Ruin Maketh Me

36 - Things about you and me

     Whump. Whump. Whump. The fan spins around and around, stirring up stale, musky hot air. She hitches her dress higher and takes another drag of her cigarette. A lazy tendril slips lazily from the corners of her mouth.
     Whump. The fan splutters to a stop, and the heat sets in heavier over the small room.
     "Fuck." She sighs, grinding her cigarette into the chipped ashtray, "Come on, we're going out. It's too hot here."
     I pat down my shorts, stand up and make my way slowly towards the door. She readjusts the thin straps of her straps, grabs her faux leather handbag from the kitchen counter and applies her lipstick sharply.
     Drip. Drip. Drip.
     "Damn, the tap's leaking again." She slings on her heels and takes my hand. 
     "Where are we going?" My voice comes out thinly.
     Her heavy lidded eyes point down at me, "Just around. If you're a good boy, I'll buy you an ice cream."
     I nod numbly and shine a smile at her.
     Her crimson lips tilt upwards, "That's my good boy."
     She pulls me down the twisting iron stairs, into the wavering streets below. The yellow brown pavement twists and flicker in the afternoon haze, and a lean black cat screeches from behind a garbage bin.
     Pinching her nose, she hurries forwards on her thin stilettos, and leads me out of the shadow of the squat building. The heat burnt streets are empty, and a battered red car cruises by slowly in a lazy, swerving pattern.
     A man wearing a red Hawaiian shirt and cheap sunglasses leans his head out through the car window and lets out a slow whistle.
    "How much for an hour?"
     She gives her easy customer smile, "Usually a hundred and fifty, but I'll give you a discount, only a hundred."
     He jerks his head at me, "How about the boy?"
     She shakes her lank curls, "He's not on sale.
     He pushes his sunglasses down, showing his sunken brown eyes, "Sixty."
     "A hundred."
     "Tch." He sneers, and rests back into his car, "I wanted a good fuck as well."
      She watches the speeding car churning up dust down the road with a disgusted curl of the lip, "That's the kind of man you have to kick down, Ash." She bends down and there's a fever in her drunken eyes, "You're more than them."
     I give her a firm nod.
     "You understand? They're trash."
"They're trash." I repeat after her.
"That's right, good boy." She smiles, satisfied, "Shall we buy you an ice cream? You've been good lately."
We walk down the dry road to the small, dingy corner store with the old man behind the counter. His looks up wearily from his crossword, and his lips curl at the sight of us, but he says nothing, only stows his paper away and stands up.
"What flavour do you want?"
"Chocolate please."
She smiles to herself and reaches into the freezer, "Mama loves hearing you say please, if only all the other children were like you."
I stand quietly and watch her fumble through the packets, deeper and deeper until her wrist is buried beneath all the shiny browns and pinks and blues.
"You're a little prince aren't you? Mama's little prince." She turns, wraps my hand around a freezing vanilla cone, "You love Mama don't you? Tell me you love Mama."
"I love you Mama."
"Now, that's my good boy." She smiles down at me, revealing her yellow tobacco stained teeth for a second.
I take her hand and look down at the vanilla ice sticking to my hand, "Mama, I wanted chocolate."
Instantly her eyes narrow and harden, "Why are you being so difficult? You were so good before. Are you looking down on me? Is it because I have disgusting teeth, is that it?"
"No," I stare up at here, "but—
"But what?" She shouts, "I saw you looking at my teeth! You were disgusted weren't you? That's why you're being difficult now isn't it? You're lying to me aren't you? You don't love me, even though I gave up everything for you. I could've gotten out of here if it weren't for you. Why do you think I have disgusting teeth like that? It's all because of you. I love you so, so much, but you hate me don't you? You hate me!"
"No." Water trickles down my fingers, drip, drip, drip, "I love you Mama, I love you Mama, I love you, I love you, I love you, really, I love—
I jolt upwards and air explodes into my lungs.
"Cynder are you ok?" Lilith holds onto my shoulders firmly, "You were having a nightmare."
"A nightmare?" A bitterness rises up my throat like bile. That woman, that fucking woman, "Yeah, but I'm awake now. Thanks." The corners of my mouth twitch.
He helps me upright against the sofa and sits silently waiting for me.
The dryness in my mouth and the edges of the dark shop slowly recede into the golden orange light pooling onto the wooden floor, "It's the afternoon already?"
"You fell asleep, and I wanted you to have more rest."
I fell asleep on his knees? I ruffle my hair and look up at the slight apology on his face, "Were you sitting there like that for this whole time? You should've woken me, your knees must be numb. I didn't think I'd fall asleep, sorry. "
Lilith shakes his head, "It's alright, it wasn't hard really, your head isn't heavy."
"Who are you kidding?" A ball of warmth chases away the cold numbness in my limbs, "You're too much of a good person Lilith. In situations like this you should reprimand me or demand some payment."
Our gaze becomes oddly mellow, "I've never had anyone say that to me before." He says, words hazy.
"What? That you're a good person?"
"Yes." The word trips over his tongue like a held note.
"They don't know you, do they?"
     "And you do?" He says unsmilingly, unflinchingly.
     I face his eyes, let myself melt amongst the gold and the honey, "I hope I do." Because you're my friend. But I can't say it, and I stand up, and I break the contact instead. What's wrong with me?
I walk towards the window and peer out into the golden lit grass and branches waving in a gust of wind. The sun is setting again, and even though time passes by the same here as it is on Earth, the slow roll of seconds and minutes seems to exclude me from their encompassing reach. I cannot see him from here, but I suspect he's here, waiting under that spreading oak.
"Every time I come here, I lose track of time."
"Is it time for you to go already?" He asks lowly.
I turn and face his illuminated face, suddenly so angel-like in the fierce glow of light.
"He's here, your knight in shining armour." Lilith's face is contorted in a distress he doesn't even try to hide.
"You keep joking about it." I tear away from his pain before I read enough of the things within it.
"Do you really think I'm joking?" He calls after me, "Don't you think he's really your knight?"
"I'll see you tomorrow." I answer simply and shut out his voice with the arched door at the bottom of the stairs.
He doesn't follow me down or send me out this time. And when I make my way through the church my heart is heavy like lead. There's something threaded in his words that I can't unhear. I'm not a fool. I'm not a damn fool! So why am I acting like one? 
     "Cynder." Ralphus gives me a nod from under his tree.
     "Sir Ralphus." I reply with a courteous nod.
     He raises a wicker basket, "I brought the sandwiches."
     Like a ball, the warmth rolls back into my chest, and an uncontrollable laugh splurges from my lips. I try to stifle the rising laughter with my hands, but Ralphus is still standing with that tiny wicker basket in his hand, and every time I look at him another onslaught of giggles burst from my mouth. A giant like him raising a tiny basket so confidently is just... just...
     He looks at me in utter confusion, "What's the matter?"
     I hug my stomach and wait for the hilarity to subside, "It's just cute."
     "What?" He tilts his head slightly, and a strand of white hair kisses his shoulder.
     I shake my head and leap up the stairs, "You and the basket." I spread open my arms and feel the breeze fly into my hug, then turn and face Ralphus from above, "Sometimes you have a knack of cheering people up." 
      The familiar tension in his facial muscles relaxes and he looks almost innocent, "I've never had anyone say that to me before."
     A shiver travels up my neck, and my arms fall to my sides.
Platinum hair near gold in the sunset sky, eyes earnest, gaze almost quizzical, semi-sorrowful, "I've never had anyone say that to me before."
     Ralphus's warm hand envelops my head again as he peers down at me, "Come on."
     Where did he pick up this habit? Don't tell me he was conscious all the time I was stroking his head? Surely I would've noticed.
     "Don't make it a habit."
      He raises an eyebrow in question.
     "Patting my head."
Ralphus bows his head, and then slowly, "I won't."
     I give him no reply. These days have been getting more and more complicated. I'd promised myself I'd live a better life in this new world, but have I made any progress? Am I truly living better? I made a friend, although I don't show it much to him or to myself, I can't deny it, I do think him as a friend. Perhaps not the best of friends, but there's a certain warmth I feel towards Lilith. But again, like all things in this world, there's a strangeness to our relationship. In some fleeting instances, it's not exactly fondness that I feel between us, nor is it trust, and yet it's definitely not dislike or hate. Is this what friendship tastes like? When was the last time I could fall asleep naturally in the presence of someone else? And this relationship with Ralphus, what can we call it? Mutual understanding of a sort perhaps. Although he may look down on me for being  human, he knows I mean no harm to him, and although he's a demon, I know all he is is just a pent up young man. Just like how I was before, but a lot stronger.
     "Here." He passes the basket to me and strolls onto the dais.
     Bam! Ralphus unsheathes his Aureus with a clean swing and another boulder crunches into two. The pure white anger behind his hacks and slashes are more blinding than ever. Somehow unlike the quote 'strong anger can only make you weaker', the burning pinnacle of his emotions makes his cuts cleaner, quicker and sharper. On this dais, he is a warrior, a soldier, and purely Ralphus.
     I sit in the hold of dry, long grass and take out a sandwich, watching the still-existing obstacles crumble into non-existence. Today the taste of beef is different, it's saltier and the slices are thicker and incredibly tender. Savoury juice dribbles down the corner of my mouth and I slop it up with the soft, fragrant bread. Maybe this can even come on par with Lilith's rib-eye steak. A furry happiness unfurls within my chest. The streaked sky, the delicious food, the free wildness both in smell and taste are all absolutely perfect.
     An involuntary smile contorts my face, "Just who made this sandwich? It tastes different than usual."
     Ralphus dots his sweat with a small white handkerchief and sheathes Aureus, "The cook disappeared somewhere, so I made the sandwiches instead, are they to your taste?"
     Damn, the bird in my chest bursts into song, "You're a fucking genius Ralphus. This is delectable." I shake my head and swallow the last bite of beef and bread, "Do you know what they call you?"
     Darkness flickers in Ralphus's brilliant eyes, "Yes."
     "Really? Do you truly know?" I smile and lick the corners of my mouth.
     "Dispassionate." He says deeply, "They call me emotionless."
     I shoot upwards, step onto the dais and clap him on the back, "Emotionless?" I laugh to the setting sun, "If you're emotionless, then the rest of us don't even have hearts. No, don't argue with me, I think I know best after watching you train all these days. You're a fucking burning genius Ralphus." I inhale a deep breath of  fresh, sparkling air, "You hear me? Don't let other people put you down."
     He stands as still as a statue with a half smile on his face, and I feel like I'm falling and falling, spiralling down like Icarus or Lucifer or a broken plane.
     "Did you put something in the sandwich?" I squeeze out.
     There's a split second of blankness before his beautiful eyes widen.
     Oh.