Enticing Tears

Chapter Eighteen

After a long and uncomfortable night on that rusty park bench, listening to the once peaceful lullaby of nature that quickly turned eerie with the cracking of branches and screeching owls, my body feels worse than it has for a long time. The bandages on my hand feel crusty and the bones seized up. Speaking is like swallowing knives so I rely on slight head movements to respond to Katar but that brings about its own pain. Small sniffles attempt to unblock my stuffy nose so that I can breathe better. The nails on my un-bandaged hand have turned a worrying purple and I scrunch my good hand up in hopes of conserving what little warmth I have left. Itchy, split skin covers the back of both hands, travelling up beneath the hoodie sleeve.

Katar took one look at my pale, shivering, slumped over body, my eyes squinted against the harsh morning light and my lips cracked, then he announced we were going to take a taxi to Mick's place that is on the other side of the city.

Tiredly, I rest my head against the frosty window pane, watching as my breath fogs up my sight. Buildings and people alike flash past as the taxi drives down a main road, every so often the car will hit a pothole and the resulting bang of my head against the glass causes splitting headache to increase but I'm too exhausted to move even a little.

We slow to a stop at some red lights. A small yet busy bakery sits among modern and sleek office buildings. Fairy lights twist around the display cases filled to the brim with cakes and pastries. Little cupcakes in the middle are covered in different pastel coloured icing and decorations, some have sprinkles or stars or other shapes that I can't quite work out but each looks delicious. A group of teenage girls laugh amongst themselves just outside the shop, they are soon joined by another friend that exits the bakery carrying a box. Without hesitation, the group dives in and begins eating their sweet treats.

I wonder what they taste like.

The lights turn green just as my stomach starts to grumble, it feels hollow beneath the stolen hoodie and I can't remember how long it has been since I've eaten.

Not long after, the taxi driver is pulling up on the side of the road next to a block of flats. The building looks old and plain yet not neglected, the fences outside appear to have been repainted recently and some pretty flowers are beginning to bloom in the well tended front garden. However there are also signs of it being in a cheaper neighbourhood; graffiti tags litter the wall that creates an alley with its neighbouring building, empty cans and crisp packets float around the front or hide in the bushes and groups of people are spread around the street smoking and drinking even though it's only midday.

"Thanks." Katar leans up between the two front seats to speak to the driver. "My friend needs to go get the guy we're meeting from inside. Shouldn't take long."

The driver glances at me in the rear view mirror then sends a suspicious glare to the closest group of people that stand just across the road. With a displeased grunt, he nods. "Fine, but I'm keeping the metre running."

"Alright." Katar pulls back and rolls his eyes. "Best hurry then, Em, I'll wait here."

Deciding it's best not to argue, I nod and push open the car door, stepping out onto the pavement. Nervously, I make my way to the front door of the building and press the buzzer for Mick's flat.

"Yeah?" A bored voice answers.

I clear my throat before pressing the button to speak to clear any croakiness in my voice. "H-hi. It's Emory."

"Emory? Oh, right." A beep sounds then a click and the door in front of me swings open. "Come on up."

The inside is much like the outside except there's less care gone into making it look nice. The off-white walls have slightly noticeable cracks in the paint in some areas and the corners of the room are filled with dust and dirt like someone swept the floor with very little effort. A lady in a lairy, multicoloured running outfit, earphones already in as she jogs down the stairs and brushes past me without a glance towards me.

Reminding myself that Katar is waiting with the grumpy driver, I resolve to stop getting so distracted and hurry up the stairs to Mick's apartment. Luckily, he only lives on the second floor yet I'm still breathless when I reach his door and have to take a moment to compose myself. Although, that could also have something to do with the nerves building up at the thought of knocking on an almost stranger's door to ask for help.

Should I really do this?

Clicks and jangles signal the opening of the door before I can answer myself, or think about what I was actually asking myself. Dressed in baggy denim jeans and a plain tee, a rugged looking man leans against the door jamb. A scruffy beard covers the bottom half of his face and a pair of glasses covers the top half. His inquisitive gaze scans me up and down before a large grin breaks through the unruly beard.

"Emory!" Large arms pull me into a solid chest until I'm engulfed in a bear hug. His hands rub up and down my back, one slips a little too far but he quickly pulls it up again and doesn't say anything so I ignore it.

"H-hello." I mumble quietly into his chest as I stand there awkwardly and unsure of how else to react. "You're Mi-Mick?"

"Of course." Mick states as if it's obvious then pushes me away slightly so that he can see my face, the grin still present. "Don't ya remember me, kid?"

As I get a proper look at his face, I recognise some resemblance to the lanky guy that seemed to always be laughing when I saw him with my brother. Everything about him seems to have changed except that grin that is becoming a little unnerving the longer we silently stare at each other.

"You look a little different." I comment, pinching my arm afterwards for being rude. "O-oh, I-I mean-"

"It's fine." Still grinning but smaller now. He spins us around and drags me into a cluttered open plan apartment. "I know I've changed a lot.

"Sorry about the mess. Still sorting stuff from when I moved in." He moves a stack of folders and books off the sofa to place on some boxes that are stacked to the side. "I thought Zack said you had a friend with ya? Sit, sit."

"Yeah. He needs you to go down." I slide down onto the sofa, glad to finally be able to rest even if it is only for a few minutes. "Something with the taxi."

"Ah." Mick makes a noise of understanding and picks up a wallet off the coffee table holding it so I can see. "I'll just make Zack pay me back."

"Sorry." I scrunch up into myself as my cheeks heat up in embarrassment for not being able to pay for anything.

"Nah, it's cool. I'm only messin'." Mick pockets the wallet alongside his phone. "You wait here and I'll sort it."

Without waiting for a response from me, Mick leaves and shuts the door behind him. Keys jingle on the other side and I hear the click of the lock.

It must be a habit to lock the door as he leaves.

Looking around I notice that this room is made up of the kitchen, living room and dining area all in one. It is a fairly big area but the boxes and stacks of random stuff dotted around the room make the space feel more cramped. It must be hard to try to organise this much stuff when moving, especially if it's such a big move across countries.

Hopefully we don't get in Mick's way for however long we're staying here.

Dark brown curtains are pulled halfway across the main window of the room yet a decent amount of light still manages to filter in. The coffee table is a simple, sleek design made of lightly coloured glass that reflects the light. It looks to be the clearest surface in this room minus a few mini bags that I can't make out the contents of from where I'm sitting.

A fluffy rug lays beneath the table, the kind of material that makes me want to walk on it bare footed. The rest of the flooring is wooden, apart from the kitchen area which is marked out by grey floor tiles. A sort of half sized bar also cuts off the kitchen from the rest of the space and probably doubles up as an eating area judging by the two stools tucked beneath it.

The only other pieces of furniture I spot are the two matching sofas, one of which I'm sitting on, that make up the living room which takes up the majority of the whole area. The tv in the corner has a makeshift stand made from boxes that doesn't look very stable.

There's this faint scent that my blocked nose can only just pick out but it smells familiar. A bit like how my brother's room used to smell sometimes after he had a large group of friends round. They would shout and laugh as if they were just told the most hilarious thing. At least until our parents got home and kicked everyone out. Including Zack most times.