reticent

65

• AMALIA •

Archer leads me up to his bedroom, which has boxes scattered around it. I frown, glancing down at the floor, but look up again when he sets a hand on the small of my back and guides me over to his bed.

     "Wanna watch TV?" He asks.

     "Don't you have to pack?" I question, tilting my head.

     "I can later." He says. He sits down beside me and turns his TV on, leaning back on the headboard. "What do you wanna watch?" He asks me.

     "I don't mind." I whisper.

     He flicks on a random movie, then curls an arm around my waist and pulls me right beside him, splaying his hand on my stomach. I lean on him a little, trying to memorise the way his body feels behind mine, the small thumps of his heart I can feel in my upper back, the sound of his breaths. Because after tomorrow, I'll never get the chance to feel any of it again. I'll never get the chance to see him again.

     "I think I've seen this before." I mumble.

     "We can turn it off if you want." He replies.

     "No. It's okay. I don't really remember what happens anyway."

     "Alright." He whispers, and we descend into a silence again.

     Halfway through the movie, the door opens and Archers mum walks in. Her expression is tight, but she curls her lips up into a smile. "Hi, Amalia."

     "Hi." I say.

     "Archer," she says pointedly, "you need to pack your things."

     "I'm almost done, I can do it later." He says.

     "Do it now, please. I'm going to pick Alexandra up from her friends house." She tells him, then walks out. The low tension in the room dissipates when she closes the door behind her, and Archer sighs.

     "You can keep watching the movie." He says, climbing off the bed, slipping his hand off my waist. I frown, suddenly cold, and shake my head.

     "No, I'll help." I say. "That's what I was planning on doing here anyway, remember?"

     "You don't have to." He responds.

     I stand up anyway. "What do you still need to pack?"

     "Stuff all over my room." He says, squinting a little as he looks around, "I'll go get boxes from downstairs. Wait here, okay?"

     "Okay." I reply. He leaves the room, and I look around. The first time I was in his room, it was decorated but still, somehow, plain, like he never truly found himself in this space.

     He returns a minute later with cardboard boxes. He sets them up before putting them on the floor, then opens the cabinet beneath his television. He smiles a little, and I look to see what's caught his eye. It's a large plastic box, and inside of it is a bunch of LEGO.

     I grin. "Is this what kept you busy when you got suspended?"

     He rolls his eyes. "It's from when I was little, I forgot I had this."

•

Half an hour later we have a bunch of the LEGO's splayed across the floor and we're trying to see who can make the best house.

     I stack my cream coloured legos on top of each other, leaving space for the door. Then I stick it on a long, wide green block and texture it a little for the grass.