The Butterfly Keeper

26

TWENTY-SIX

      I SOON realize Sebastian has a weird way of acting around me when he's trying real hard. He's been nice to me after remembering seeing him around school my first year of high school, like really nice. He has been making me all the food I would constantly eat back home and cooking meals he, well thinks, I like.

       But, Sebastian has also been busy watching me closely, assessing the look on my face when he speaks to me to make sure he's saying the right thing or not upsetting me . He takes his time to let the words leave his mouth as if he circles what he's going to say around his head multiple times before deeming it acceptable to say out loud.

      The whole thing gives me an eerie vibe that it makes my skin itchy.

      "Is your wrist okay?"

       I blink and center my eyes towards Sebastian. He stands against the frame of the front door with his sight lowered at my wrist. I look down and see my wrist redden with nail marks. I've been obsessively scratching at it without noticing.

      I look up and him and nod while tucking both hands under my thighs. He peers down at me for a second with his lips thumbed together before walking to a drawer in the kitchen. Sebastian pulls it open and rummages through it until he finds whatever he was looking for. He turns around back to me and heads my way.

      "Here," He stretches his arm out and holds a band-aid over my head.

      "I don't need that."

      "Well..." His sentence trails off, but he continues to tower over me. "Then let me see your wrist, okay?"

       Jesus, can't he leave it alone?

      "Never mind, I'll put it on." I say, quick, and snatch the band-aid out of Sebastian's grip before he can do anything.

      Satisfied with my compliance, Sebastian returns to the kitchen as I take the bandage out of the wrapping and stick it over the mark that's spreading a shade of red further around my skin.  I glance in Sebastian's direction and see him propping a foot on a chair and hunching over to tighten the shoelace of his boot.

      His black jeans are dusted with something that makes them almost look grey and his T-shirt is rolled just over his shoulders, perfectly displaying the tattoos on his outer bicep. His hair looks like it hasn't been washed in a couple days and his arms look painfully ashy.

      "You haven't been painting," I say to which Sebastian straightens his posture.

      He cranes his neck over his shoulder and gives me a single nod. "Yeah, I've been busy working on something else for now."

       "In the shed," I add for him.

      "Yeah."

      I cross my legs and lean in forward. "Like what?"

      A wide and exhilarated smile appears on Sebastian's face, obviously stirred to share what he has been doing in the shed and he places his foot back on the ground so he can fully turn around to face me. I knew something was up.