When Felix woke up the next morning, the first thing he wondered was why he was sleeping in a very uncomfortable position on the floor and not in his bed.
He then noticed the television on the screensaver screen, and everything came flooding back. The strange white creature in the rain. He was still having a bit of trouble believing that it happened.
He stretched, his arms and back cracking, and stood up to go the bathroom, deciding not to wake the creature up yet. He padded down the tiled hallway, tiptoeing past his sleeping devil of a pug, and into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror – his dirty golden-blonde hair was sticking up all over the place and there were dark circles under his eyes. Oh well, it was too early in the morning for this crap.
The winter sun was streaming through the small window of the room, landing on the corner of a backpack sitting on the tiles. Felix blinked, trying to remember where it came from.
That thing had it, he thought suddenly, and he crouched down to look at it. It was just your everyday run-of-the-mill backpack you could buy at K-Mart for ten dollars. He carefully unzipped it to see what was inside, wondering how a tiny creature with no arms could carry a bag. What, did it drag it around with its mouth or something?
He snorted at that.
But what surprised him was the contents of the bag. There were human-sized clothes in there. Why on Earth would that little thing have human clothes with it?
He also noticed that the clothes were still wet. So he hurriedly grabbed the bag and set up his clothes horse next to the heater. Turning it on, he hung up a green hoodie, black shirt, blue jeans and even underwear. There was also a watch in there, and he put that on the windowsill and pegged the bag up to dry, too. Looking at the clothes, he noticed that they were about the same size as his own.
He returned the bathroom and had a quick shower, not wanting to take too long in case the little creature woke up and wondered where he was. He ran a brush through his hair to make it lie some sort of flat, and decided to go make sure the little thing was alright.
He rolled his eyes at his yawning dog as he ventured down the hall again. He softly knocked on his bedroom door, and heard a small “Oh, fuck!” afterwards. Felix faintly registered that it sounded similar to the deep masculine voice that the creature had used the previous day. Suddenly worried, Felix opened the door to see…
A male human sitting shirtless in his bed.
Where the actual fuck did this guy come from?
The doona covers were (thankfully) covering the guy’s hips and legs, and he was covering his face with his hands. He looked so pale, Felix had never seen skin that pale before. Dark brown bangs fell through the gaps between his fingers, such a dark brown they looked almost black.
“Who the fuck are you?” was the first thing Felix said, and he immediately regretted it as the man flinched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be that rude,” he tried to amend himself, his voice trailing off.
The man chuckled. “So you still meant to be rude?” he asked, and his voice was so deep and smooth that it sent shivers down Felix’s spine.
“N-no, that’s not what I meant!” Felix stammered, trying to regain his composure. The man’s voice had thrown him off. The man in general had thrown him off. “Just, who are you and how did you get in my house?”
The man didn’t take his hands away from his face. “Believe it or not…” he started, and then he laughed softly. “I’m that little critter you picked up last night.”
Felix stared at him as he picked up something that was lying on the bed beside him and held it up. It was a round mask, with the face of the white creature.
“What the fuck?” Felix said.
The man put the mask down again. “Honestly, you’re one of the few people that have reacted this way. Most people start screaming and cursing and usually tell me to get out of their house. Then again, not many people help me.”
“Who are you?” Felix asked again.
“Call me Cry,” the man said, peeking at him through his fingers. Felix was suddenly staring into electric blue eyes, bright as the sky in summer, and he couldn’t look away. “And don’t ask why.”
Felix blinked, and was nodding before he could stop himself.
“I don’t really remember much of yesterday, did you pick up my backpack?” Cry asked.
“Uh,” Felix started, and then wanted to slap himself. “Um, yeah, I did. Everything’s still wet, they’re drying in the lounge.”
“Would you kind getting them for me?”
Felix blinked. “I just told you, they’re still wet! You can’t wear them or you’ll get sick!”
Why was he worrying so much about a strange boy in his bed? How old was he, even?
“Listen, friend,” Cry said, and suddenly his voice was low, quiet, dangerous, his piercing stare making Felix go cold. He could tell that there was a big story hidden in those eyes, and in that voice. A story full of endless pain. “You want me out of here as soon as possible, and then you want to forget about me. Forget I even existed.”
Felix’s first instinct was to listen, to do what Cry was telling him, but something in the back of his mind questioned it. Why? Cry wasn’t hurting him in any way, and he’d seemed so helpless last night, as that little creature that had nowhere left to go.
Something had made him walk outside in the rain, something had made him walk down to the log; something had brought him to this boy.
Felix tilted his head to the side a little. “But why?” he asked, and Cry’s gaze narrowed, like he was confused.
“What?” he mumbled, seeming like he was asking himself.
“Why do you need to leave?” Felix pushed. “And how the fuck do you expect me to forget someone like you?”
Cry just stared at him for a minute, and Felix stared right back.
“I want to help you, if you let me,” Felix said, his voice trailing off into a quiet tone he didn’t think Cry heard.
Cry seemed to sigh into his hands. Felix watched him, looking for a sign of… something. When Cry finally nodded, Felix suddenly wanted to jump for joy.
Instead, he grinned. “Great!” He moved into the room, heading straight for his clothes drawers. “I think you’re a similar size to me but I’m not too sure, so I’m sorry if these don’t really fit you.”
Cry said nothing, but Felix could feel his icy gaze on his back. He dug through his clothes to try and find some decent and comfortable ones for the boy.
“So how old are you anyway, Cry?” Felix asked, trying to keep his tone light.
There was a pause. “Seventeen,” Cry finally answered. Felix froze. Cry was the same age as him – what the heck was going on? But Felix mentally slapped himself and kept moving.
“Same age as me, then,” Felix said, and Cry huffed acknowledgement. “How long have you been… on your own?”
He’d wanted to ask how long he’d been like he is, changing shape like he did, but he couldn’t.
Pause. “Almost seven years.”
“Holy shit.” Felix turned around, a bundle of clothes in his arms. He walked over and dropped them on the bed next to Cry. “What were you doing alone when you were ten?”
Cry didn’t answer, just completely covered his face again, and Felix got the hint. “Here’s some clothes, sorry if they don’t quite fit. I’ll be outside if you–”
He whirled around as he heard scratching at the door. He saw a little black furball dash into the room. “Edgar!” Felix said loudly, moving around to the end of the bed to see his little pug clawing at the doona, trying to climb up onto the bed. “Edgar, deutschland!”
Edgar dropped down onto the ground where Felix scooped him up into his arms. He glanced over at Cry to see that bright blue stare on him again, and he flushed.
“Sorry about my dog, he’s a nutter,” he said, slightly embarrassed as he looked down at Edgar. “Anyway, I’ll be in the kitchen, so come out and eat something, okay?” When Cry remained silent, Felix went on, looking sideways at the boy. “And please don’t leave, okay?”
A pause, and then a slight nod.
God, why had he asked that? Felix wasn’t really sure. Something told him that he shouldn’t let Cry leave. Not now, not ever.
But nevertheless, he saw Cry’s nod before he turned and walked out, gently shutting the door behind him. Felix walked quickly to the kitchen and poured some food for Edgar Allen Pug and started boiling water in the kettle to make a coffee for himself. He would made one for Cry, but he didn’t know how he took it, or if he even drank coffee. So instead he scrolled his Facebook feed (Jack and Mark were going to the movies in the closest big town, Ken was having a home day, and Mary and Marzia were going on a shopping spree) to pass the time. He looked up when he heard footsteps coming down the hall, and a few seconds later Cry appeared in the doorway.
Somehow, Felix’s clothes fit him fairly well, but the jeans were a couple of centimetres too short. Cry was running a hand through his hair, and his bangs fell over his eyes, and his other hand was tucked into the pocket of the pants.
Felix’s thoughts scrambled when he saw the suddenly attractive boy standing in his kitchen doorway.