Bowerbirds

The next morning I was up before anyone else. I couldn't sleep much longer than the warm-milk-and-chocolate-chip-cookie-induced slumber. That meant I spent six in the morning slipping into a sweater and heading down the stairs.

Other than the small squaks of dismay, I had reached the living room almost silently. I picked up the book from the couch seat, realizing James must've left it there last night. I smiled at the memory, remembering the way his eyelids would fall gently, fluttering open to gaze back at me with same warmth in his eyes every time I spoke.

I tried to chase the thought away, walking into the kitchen and sitting down.  It'd be useless to have anything more than a friendship with James, considering how soon I'd be out of here. Maybe once everything cleared up, I could visit him. The idea made me grin fondly, wondering what he'd think of the idea.

A low cough caused me to look up, greeted by an entirely groggy Alex. His hair, an absolute teenage mess. He rubbed his eye, grunting a 'hello' at me as he walked towards the kitchen. He turned on the stove and filled up a kettle with water. As he continued on getting sugar and creamer from the cupboard, I decided to begin this conversation as best a dropout college student could,

"Good morning..." My voice drifted towards a topic, "why are you up so early?"

"I'm always awake at this time," He murmured, "Why are you?" He seemed interested in talking to me, any self-doubt I had dispersing rather quickly as I answered,

"Couldn't sleep." I put my book down beside me, glancing out the window,

"Does dreaming about my brother would affect you that much?"

I frowned at the comment, my eyes piercing through him as he turned around. Surprisingly enough, there was a grin on his face. For the first time since I had been here, he actually looked... happy? Joyous? Carefree? Whatever it might be, where was this humor when I first met him?

"First of all, I don't dream about him," I huffed, looking away as I touched my cheek, feeling how warm it was, "and second, you're a teenager. Aren't you supposed to enjoy sleeping?"

I quickly jumped into another topic, which Alex seemed to catch onto rather quickly. Still, he kept quiet about it as he turned, a goofy grin still smeared across his face,

"I should... but I'd rather spend my morning doing something productive." I shook my head at the answer, watching him get two mugs,

"Wrong answer," I deadpanned, "What's the real reason?"

Without even missing a beat, he responded,

"Dear ol' James Buckley snores terribly loud, and his crappy walls are paper thin," I could hear the smirk in his voice, making me chuckle as I leaned back in my chair,

"Funny, I never noticed."

"That's because you slept first, he was up for awhile yesterday."

"How do you know?" I cut in, making him pause what he was doing, before hastily continuing,

"He's usually awake by now, the bastard," He yawned, walking into the back room and coming out with a carton of eggs in hand, holding them up as he glanced at me, "Want one?"

I nodded, opening up my book as I felt the conversation lull gently. It didn't worry me as much as it would have, the small conversation between us feeling like a step in the right direction. I glanced at him one last time, before adding,

"I'll do the dishes once you're done."

"Sounds good."

And thus was the end of the conversation, and I returned to reading as we drifted into a comfortable silence.

-

I was simply drying off my hands when James stumbled down the stairs. His eyes held bags underneath them, making his eyes appear far more sunken in and swollen.

While Alex's hair had been a mess, James' was a disaster. His normally fluffy, unobstructed curls were twisted at odd angles. Part of his hair was flattened while the rest was running wild. I could only imagine how many times he'd run his fingers through his hair to create that mess, wether knowing it or not.

He was dressed in dark, navy blue shorts, and lacked, shockingly enough, a shirt. My eyes glanced at his chest, before I averted my gaze and focused on his face.

His features were twisted into a storm of shock and confusion, as if he didn't really believe I was here. Or existed, more likely. He wavered, taking a step back and rubbing at his eyes, much like a dazed child than anything else. Worry shot through my chest like a bullet.

I put the dish towel on the counter beside me, walking up to him as if he was a deer in headlights. In reality, he was taller, stronger, and if anything, far more mentally sane than I was. But he looked so undeniably lost, I could barely raise my voice above a whisper,

"What's wrong? Did... something happen?" He looked into my eyes, before looking away and nodding slowly. I waited for an answer, and when it didn't come I walked over to the table, suddenly on some form of emotional autopilot as I pulled out a chair. I looked at him, seeing a slight confusion on his face,

"Sit," I said quietly, and surely enough he listened. I watched him sit down, turning to get him a glass of water when he grabbed my wrist. His touch was so light, I wouldn't have felt it if I wasn't paying attention. I turned back, hearing the silent words on his face as I got a chair for myself and faced him, sitting down and waiting for him to speak.

He ran his hands through his messy hair, rubbing his eyes again. He wouldn't meet my gaze for a few moments, a silence lingering between us. I didn't think he'd speak, until he looked up and me and spoke,

"I think I had a pretty bad nightmare," He began, a hint of sudden embarrassment in his voice, "and now that I woke up it feels like a blur, and I must sound like such a kid right now, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, a slight breath of relief leaving me. Nothing too harrowing, thank god. I reached over and touched his hand,

"It's okay, I've had some pretty bad dreams before that I can barely remember, and considering how late you slept-"

"How do you know?" He questioned, much like I did to Alex only an hour before. It made me chuckle,

"Alex told me you're normally an early bird, which now makes me wonder if I'm becoming a bit of a distraction." I meant it jokingly, but judging by the shocked expression that came across his face, it must've come out wrong.

"Wait no, that's not what I-" My frantic rambling was interrupted by laughter. Genuine, breathy, calm laughter. James' previously tense face looking much more relaxed as he giggled. I went quiet, a small frown on my face that couldn't stay on for much longer,

"I get what you mean, and no, you're not." He grinned at me, before yawning and covering his mouth with his hand, "You're more of a relief than anything."

My cheeks warmed at the words, but I tried to ignore it, simply standing up so he wouldn't notice. I could feel his curious eyes on me as I headed to the stove,

"Still, it seems like you need some coffee. I can still hear the sleep in your voice." I poured some into a mug I had just washed, earning a hum of agreement from him, "You even forgot to put a shirt on before you came down here."

I turned around, seeing the slight surprise on his face. I smirked, realizing that I tripped him up out of his own accord. Per usual, he bounced back with his own comment as I sat down, passing the mug to him,

"Of course you would notice that, Miss Colette," He looked at me as he took a sip, his brow raised as I managed to roll my eyes and scoff.

"Don't blame me for noticing something so obvious."

"You're right, but I could use it against you and make you go on the motorcycle with me to the store."

I studied him as he offered, his face partially hidden by the mug. His voice was as calm as always, but I could see the slight doubt in his eyes. Still, I leaned back, pretending to think about it before answering,

"I'm accepting, but it's not because I'm guilty," He chucked, watching me inquisitively, "It's because I need to convince you to buy enough snacks for thirteen days of Queendom."

He rolled his eyes, finally standing up as he finished the rest of his coffee, walking over putting it in the sink as he answered,

"Not gonna happen."

"You don't know that. Queendom also gets more persuasive as the hours go by."

I pointed out, a sweet tone is my voice, watching him turned to look at me. Our eyes met, and we both looked away, yet his voice remained as sure as ever,

"Then I'll be counting the hours, as well as the days, until I give in."