The Story We Used To Know (Sequel to The Story We Live)

Pieces

The next day, I forced myself out of bed and trudged down the stairs, trying my best to keep my eyes open. I would've stayed in bed much longer but my stomach said otherwise.

Sean was already up to my surprise. He was usually up before me but I usually woke up at around ten and him, around nine. It was seven now.

He wasn't making breakfast but instead was occupied by the phone. He'd never talked from the landline before, but today he looked as though he'd been taking calls for years.

I sat myself down at the dining table and eyed him as he paced, talking on and on. He was speaking with large words, words I'd never heard before especially not from his mouth. I'm not even sure he understood the words coming out of his own mouth.

Despite that, he talked as though he had the world figured out.

I got bored after about maybe twenty minutes. I set my chin down on the table, my hands both flat under it for cushioning.

Sean, noticing my presence for the first time, attempted cutting the call short. After the call was finally dead, he set the phone back into its holder on the wall and went to searching the cupboards for breakfast without saying another word.

"Really?" I asked, giving him a confused look.

"What?" He questioned, turning around to face me.

"You're really not gonna tell me who you were talking to?" I smirked slightly, trying to hide my curiosity.

"I don't have to tell you everything that happens in my life, did you know that?" He replied sarcastically.

I laughed. "We share a life, pal."

He smiled. "True. It was just the...orphanage people." He was trying to make the words he spoke small as if I couldn't understand English. I ignored this though.

He leaned up against the counter, aware that I would continue speaking.

"So, they wanted what exactly?" I knew he'd get tired of my "interview" sooner or later but I kept throwing questions.

"Oh, no I called them. I was...well...telling them about our situation." He answered.

"So you reported us, I understand." I retorted annoyed at him being oblivious to the fact that I spoke the same language as him.

"Yeah. You say it harsh though." He laughed.

I gave him a playful mad look. "Shut up and make my pancakes." We both chuckled for a moment before someone knocked.

Sean commanded me to answer it. I opened the door, preparing to invite our guest in but unfortunately our visitor didn't happen to be too pleased.

In fact, they were beyond raged. Maybe he'd understand.