No Place Like Home ✔

Six

Day four. Day five. Day six. Day seven. Day eight. Day nine.

It was now day ten. 

It had been ten days since I'd made the decision to begin feigning misfortune. To play the part of a homeless man. To set aside what little sense of morality I had left just to take advantage of good people. Good people that shouldn't have to spare me a second glance on the street. Good people that should've just ignored me the first time they laid eyes on me.

But, even though I had made the wrong decision; all the right things had been happening throughout. I'd begun making money, I'd made a friend, and I felt so much more at ease than I did prior to said life-changing decision. 

It had been ten whole days.

And he was still here. 

"It's warmer today than the rest of the days," he said, panting all the while like a thirsty dog. "Still hot, but not as hot as the other days. How are you coping?"

I shrugged. 

"Are you going to say anything? You've been awfully quiet today," he noted. "Did I do something wrong? Am I bothering you? In that case, I can leave right now if you want me to."

"Don't be silly," I interrupted. "You're not bothering me at all. I'm just thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Make that fifty bucks and I'll consider."

"You're being difficult again," he stated. "But that's okay."

"And you're always being philosophical," I said with a small smile. "But that's okay."

He said nothing. I continued: "I'm just thinking about how life was so much simpler before things came to this, you know? How life was so much simpler back when I still had a roof to live under. Still had parents. Still had friends. Still was in touch with my siblings. I had nothing to worry about - and now I have everything in the world to worry about."

"Not everything," he started in a peculiar tone. I already knew a self-absorbed comment was coming. "With me by your side, you'll always have one less problem to worry about." And then he shot me a cocky grin.

I raised my eyebrows at him, "Your ego is so fat."

"Not really," he said. "Just trying to make you feel better with egoistic jokes."

"You don't have to try to make me feel better," I spoke. "I'd rather not feel anything at the moment."

"Deep," he commented - and that made me laugh. 

I was always laughing around him - something I'd come to realize in the past few days. 

I didn't enjoy it nor did I hate it. I enjoyed his company. 

"Do you have anyone who makes you feel like home?" he inquired out of nowhere.

"I'm homeless."

"Don't be-"

"Difficult," we said in unison.

"You didn't answer the question," he remarked. "Do you?"

"I don't have anyone aside from you in my life at this point," I confessed. "So for what it's worth - I guess, yeah."

"So you're saying I'm your home?"

"Not quite but.. somewhat, maybe. I don't know, take it as you will."

"Hm, let's just say you're unsure," he offered. "Are you going to ask me the same question or am I going to have to answer without you asking at all?"

I rolled my eyes, "Do you have a home?"

"Don't phrase it like that!" he laughed. "You're so difficult."

"Shut up," I chuckled. "Do you have a person you'd consider your home?"

"Not really."

"Then why did you ask me to ask you the question?"

"So I could answer it?" he deadpanned.

"Now you're the one that's being difficult."

"In what way?"

I shrugged. 

"Strange," he said after a moment of silence.

"Huh?"

"Strange. You're strange."

"No, I'm Eden," I joked.

He glanced at me with an unimpressed expression on his face, "This is what I mean when I say you're difficult."

"Adam, I'm not difficult. I'm Eden. We've already been over this."

"Stop it you, that's not even funny," he complained - yet he was laughing anyway. 

"Oh shut up," I began. "I could recite the days of the week backwards and you'd still laugh."

"I swear it's like a super power or something that you have!" he exclaimed. "I don't know what it is. I've never laughed this hard with anyone else before. You're a magician, aren't you?"

"Shut up," I interrupted. "I'm no magician. You're just a fool."

"A fool for laughing?" he inquired. "That's harsh."

He was still smiling and so was I.

"Do you ever wonder if people think you're homeless too just because you sit beside me all the time?" I asked.

"Perhaps they do," he hummed. "I wouldn't know. I'm not other people. How am I to know what's going through their mind?"

"That's not what I-" I began, but gave up halfway through. "Fool."

"You use that word quite often," he said. 

"And you tell me I'm difficult quite often."

"That's because you are."

"Or maybe you just don't understand why I work the way I do," I suggested. "That's quite shameful of you, Mr. Philosopher."

"Mr. Philosopher?" he parroted. "Is that what I am now? Huh, I kind of like it. Philosopher Briggs."

"Briggs?" I repeated.

"Adam Briggs. Briggs is my surname."

"That's cool," I nodded. "Mine's Becker. Eden Becker."

"You sounded like James Bond just now," he gasped. "You know when he introduces himself and he's all like.. Bond, James Bond. Do you? Have you read the books? Or watched the movies maybe?"

"Shut up," I sighed. "Do I look like I have a home to do all those things?"

That silenced him and I instantly felt a rush of guilt. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he mumbled silently, fiddling with his fingers.

"It's okay," I reassured him. "I tend to forget that I'm homeless sometimes too."

"The Earth is your home," he began. "So you're not really-"

"Shut up, I'm not in the mood for the philosophy talk, Mr. Briggs."

He laughed, "My bad, Mr. Becker. Anyway, I have to get going now. I need to make dinner for myself."

"Alright, you go do that," I yawned, waving him off.

I hadn't realized how late it had become.

Time flies when you're having fun. Is this what having fun felt like? I honestly couldn't tell.

I watched him leave, the guilt still eating away at my heart. 

I was such a horrible person.