He Didn't Say A Word [bxb]

5

It was five twenty-eight, and I started to walk out the back door at the shop, but just as I was almost there, Shawn grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me right back in.

"Nuh uh, you're going." He said. Once again, I rolled my eyes, "come on man, I like to think we're friends, even if you think we aren't, we are, so you have to do this because as your friend I say you do."

Exhaling loudly, I gave up my protest, and organized my workspace whilst I waited.

I heard the door chimes once more, and knew who it was. I felt sick to my stomach. I did not want to do this.

"Ready to go?" Blaine asked as he stepped inside.
I gave my best "maybe" look and adjusted my glasses, then followed him out.

We walked side by side in silence till we reached the coffee shop.

He ordered a black coffee and I, not speaking ordered nothing, but Blaine insisted on buying me something. He got me a small coffee with cream and sugar.

Once we sat down, he set down his drink and looked at me. I tilted my head.

"You just look familiar, that's all." He smiled and sipped his coffee.
I noticed the way he constantly tugged at the end of his sleeve as if he was nervous.

"So, you don't talk, but I'm sure you can write, and I want to get to know you"
He grabbed a pen out of his pocket, and a napkin, handing it to me before crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"Alright, where are you from?" He asked and cocked an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee. I had forgotten that I had coffee, and took a small sip, willing my face not to twist up in disgust. I hated coffee.

I wrote "here" on the napkin. I couldn't say where I was from.

He started to ask another question, but I held up a finger.
I looked down to write, "why did you ask me here?" I slid the napkin to him gently, and capped the pen, setting down on the right side of me.

"Because I thought you were cute, and I thought, what's the worst that can happen?"
At least he was honest. I liked that. So, I nodded, and smiled. Although I felt a little uncomfortable, as I had not been shown any interest from anyone in years. I also felt a little awkward, knowing that I hadn't "hung out" with anyone in those years.

My time with Blaine progressed slowly. I felt like he was interrogating me. Although, I learned about him too.

He was 19. Going to college for business, as he really had no aim in his life, and he lived in what he described as a small apartment. He said he lived in Sunset Bluff, the part of town where the wealthy people lived, so I assumed it was nicer than he was letting on.

"Let me walk you home?" Blaine asked as we stood from our table to leave. I shook my head no.

"Awe, why not?" I shrugged and he pressed to walk me home.
He was like a little puppy dog, and even when I turned to leave, he caught up with me, and I didn't really know what to do, so I took the long way.

As we took the little evening stroll, he carried on about his family and his university.
The way he talked interested me more than what he had to say. He got excited to talk about things as if he had never told them to anyone before. He really was like a puppy.

Arriving at my apartment, I mused myself with allowing him inside but decided against it. I wasn't sure why, as I truly had forgotten how to interact with people other than my coworkers.

"Hey, I appreciated this" Blaine said, and gave me a light hearted smile. It was charming really. It made me feel strange, like I had never felt before. I was almost nervous, yet it wasn't a negative emotion.

I smiled back at him and nodded my head.

"Are you free this weekend at all?" He asked nervously as he pulled on the end of his sleeve, "I don't mean to be forward" he looked down as if to express that he was embarrassed.
I thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Saturday? Say eight o'clock? I'll plan something" he asked, and I nodded, smiled, and then went into my apartment.

I had realized after the day with Blaine the reason I didn't seek people out. It wasn't only because I was afraid of them knowing what I had done, but rather the fact that I was also afraid to form relationships with people. I felt as though my silence would be interpreted incorrectly.
I feared that people would take it as if I just didn't want to speak to them. Which in Shawn's case, and possibly Todd's, was true.

Once I had returned to my living space, with a stupid grin plastered on my face, I selected a book off of one of the shelves.

I carefully took "The Giver" out, and sat on the left side of the couch. It was a book I read many times. My favorite book in fact. I had always loved it. The copy I held, was the same, paperback issue my father had bought me for my fourteenth birthday. Seeing as I was 23 now, the condition was getting worse, with a cracked spine and faded pages.

I flipped through the pages taking note at how unbelievably soft they felt. I felt as though possession of the book was almost a good luck charm to me. The story it told was one I had memorized word by word.

I read the whole novella that evening. I surprised myself in doing so, it had gotten quite late.
I hadn't gotten to bed until twelve thirty, which was unusual for me.

The next morning, I heard the aggravating beeps of my alarm clock. With some struggle, I pulled myself from my slumber.

I felt oddly discomforted that morning. Then I had remembered why; I had a dream about Blaine.
It was just an innocent dream in which we were goofing around like children. He took my book from me and held it up high so I couldn't reach it. I was not angry at him though, I felt playful. I had never felt playful. I always felt two emotions; anger and loneliness. The loneliness always made the world feel heavy, thick almost as I moved through life.