Muted Voices

5

He pulls me into a hug which takes me by surprise.

"Dude, where the hell did you go? You shouldn't just leave like that for the entire day," He says.

I wrap my arms loosely around him, and pat his back.

"...Sorry..." I whisper.

He pulls away from me and stares at me, "You talked."

I nod, my face heating up slightly.

Then, he does something that he doesn't normally do; He smiles.

It's a small, short, barely noticeable smile. But it's a smile, none the less.

I smile back at him, then he pulls me back into a hug, "Don't fucking do that. I was worried."

But you wanted to be alone. Right? Right. You said you wanted to be alone.

That thought made me remember that he plans on moving out too.

I let out a sad sigh, "S-Sorry."

He then grabs my jacket and walks towards the dryer.

I follow after him. No, I can do it myself. You don't have to.

I reach out to grab his sleeve, but then reconsider after assuming that it would be an unwelcome invasion of his personal space.

After completing that, he turns back to me, "You're drenched."

I nod. No, really? I didn't notice.

He hands me a towel.

"You should at least dry off," he tells me before walking off elsewhere.

I watch him walk away, then look down at the towel in my hands.

He's too confusing, sometimes.

I put the towel back in the closet.

Then I head over to the kitchen.

I turn on the sink and start washing the dishes.

At least he ate...

The previous thought reminded me. I forgot to eat today.

I shrugged it off. I'm not hungry anyway.

Maybe I should eat more. I'm almost never hungry. Maybe I'm dying. What if I am dying? What if I'm starving to death and I just don't realize it? Oh jesus!

I shake my head, as if that would shake the paranoid thoughts away.

"What are you doing?" I turn to look at Craig as he wanders into the kitchen.

Washing dishes. What does it look like? I look at the dishes then back at him.

"I told you to dry off," he says.

I don't see why you suddenly seem to care so much now.

I motion my head towards the dishes again, this time staring down at the soapy water.

"You're going to get sick," says Craig.

Oh, I'm sorry, mother, but can you not see I am preoccupied?

I shake my head, just before he walks away again.

I shrug and continue washing a plate.