Crazy bastard.
We both hover on the line, neither of us wanting to go, and it’s so... crazythat the world feels brighter. That I could be so hopeful.
My emotions are on my tongue, and it takes every ounce of effort not to let them spill out. Not to ramble.
“I'll see you soon,” my goodbye is gentle. A single splinter holding back the tide threatening to spill from my lips and his response is just as hopeful. Just as tender.
“Soon.”
When I hang up, I feel… anxious. Like a thousand bees are buzzing around inside me.
No, never mind I feel nauseous.
Fuck, what did I just agree to?
I hear the shuffling of feet, and when I look around, Lucia is waddling into the living room to collapse onto the couch opposite me, wearing long pajama pants and a baggy, long-sleeved shirt.
I ignore her morning groaning before gathering my courage.
“Lucia,” I start slowly, “realistically speaking. If I weren’t human, how freaked out would you be?”
Lucia turns her head, squinting at me with an expression that says, ‘what fuckery are you really asking me at 7 am?’.
“Are you still drunk?”
“I'm not,” I growl.
“I'm not awake enough for this kind of question.”
“Then wake the fuck up.”
She groans as she slides from the couch to the floor dramatically, but I'm used to her shenanigans by now.
These past few weeks, she's really gotten better.
“So what,” she finally answers, still half-asleep, “like a monster? A demon?”
“... A shape-shifter. From a different planet.”
I didn't think her face could contort even more, “The fuck?”
I ignore her confusion, “Would it scare you?”
“… Who the fuck wouldn't be scared of a shape-shifting alien?”
... Good point.
“Personally though,” even with her eyes still closed from sleep, she grins at me, “I’m not afraid of any bitch who gets drunk on white wine.”
I grab the nearest pillow and throw it violently so it smacks her in the face. “You passed out too, dumbass.”
She snorts, “I don't kill people for a living. You should be ashamed.”
I throw another pillow.
I never would've expected Lucia to be... my door of normalcy.
The time I spend with her is a breath of fresh air after stepping out of Reuben’s world. No guns. No knives. No people to kill. No people trying to kill me. No one to protect—though once or twice when we've gone out, some guys suddenly find the nerve and I have to step in front of her and tell them fuck off.
