|| Theo ||
It was around midnight.
I was watching a horror movie in the living room with Clover sitting in my lap. I vaguely watched some creature creep out of the closet on the TV while spooning the ice cream tub in my hand, hyper-aware of the clock ticking.
Even though I tried to keep my eyes on the screen, they just kept fleeting to the front door. As if I was waiting for someone to come home. No, I wasn't waiting for Annabelle to get home. No way. The door design was just very interesting.
I heard footsteps coming towards the living room.
'Theo, why are you still up on a school night?" Wyatt asked.
'Just felt like watching some movie with ice cream," I replied, gluing my eyes to the people screaming on the screen as if I was so invested in it.
'If you were a girl, I would say you were on your periods," he said with an eye roll. He glanced towards the door and asked in concern, 'Ara isn't home yet, is she?"
'Oh, don't you see? Annabelle is sitting right beside me," I said sarcastically.
Wyatt glared at me. 'Will you ever let go of that name?"
'No, why? I like it."
'Well, she doesn't," he pointed out.
'Her problem."
If I wanted to call her Annabelle, I would, and no one could stop me. Besides, it wasn't like I didn't know her actual name. Well, maybe I didn't know it when I first called out to her two years ago, but every time after that was on purpose. And I absolutely loved the way her face would twist in irritation with every new name.
Besides, by this point, it would be weird to call her Arabella. I would never call her that. It was either Ara or some other mispronounced name, and she would never give me the right to call her by her nickname, so Annabelle it was.
I heard Wyatt sigh. 'It's getting late. I hope she didn't run into any troubles."
'Maybe she hit her head on a lamppost and fainted on the street," I joked, though I was getting a bad feeling myself.
'Would it kill you to show some concern for your roommate?" Wyatt scolded.
'I never know. Maybe it will," I deadpanned, taking a spoonful of ice cream.
'Whatever. I'm going to sleep now. Wake me up if Ara isn't back in two hours," he informed and walked away.
Once I was sure that Wyatt went back in, I asked, 'Hey, Clove, where do you think Annabelle went tonight?"
Clover just snuggled closer to me, hinting that she couldn't care less about Annabelle.
I petted her head and mumbled, 'You really don't like her, huh."
Clover scratched her ear in response, which was a yes.
I glanced at the front door once again and sighed.
I can't believe I was actually worried about Annabelle. But then again, it would be heartless not to. It was almost midnight and she still wasn't back home. That too, on a school night.
After what felt like ten minutes or so, the calling bell rang up.
'Who came so late?" I wondered, putting Clover down.
It probably wasn't Annabelle because she had a key.
By the time I reached the door, the person on the other side had already used the bell ten times.
'Geez, have you ever heard of the word patience?" I hollered before checking through the peephole camera. I couldn't see the person's face, only specks of light brown hair. Wait, was it Annabelle?
My doubt was cleared when I heard their voice. 'Knock, knock. Who's there? Will. Will who? Will you just open the door?" She rhymed by herself.
Sighing, I opened the door. As soon as I did so, Annabelle stumbled forward and I barely managed to catch her.
'What happened to you?"
'Oh, my. It's the apple of my eye, Theo," she cheered, grinning too widely.
'Hold on a second. Are you drunk?" I leaned my face down to inhale her, and indeed, she reeked of alcohol.
She giggled, nodding her head.
'Are you an idiot? You're coming home on a school night being drunk?" I let out, and she just kept giggling in response.
I huffed and dragged her in as she clung to me with her arms wrapped loosely around me. I pried her off, dropping her on the couch.
I saw Clover leaving the living room. She always hid in my room whenever Annabelle was home.
I looked back at Annabelle. Her hair was disheveled, so were her clothes. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot and seemed puffy.
Had she been crying? Why? What happened? Is she alright? Did she get hurt? Where was she until now? How did she get home in this state?—I wanted to ask, but I didn't.
I quietly sat beside her as she tried to wrap the blanket I had been using around her desperately. But her slurred hands were too inefficient, so I helped her to wrap it around her properly.
'These women in horror movies can never run a mile without tripping at least once," she remarked suddenly, pointing at the screen.
'Well, it's probably because they wear heels and have short legs," I answered and poured her a glass of water.
Annabelle hummed. When I handed her the glass, she raised an eyebrow. 'You didn't mix anything in it, did you?"
I rolled my eyes. 'Yes, some poison and more alcohol."
'Yay," she cheered and grabbed the glass, chugging it down in a go.
'Where have you been?" I finally asked.
'Hey, do you ever wonder why they make scented toilet paper?" she questioned after seeing a commercial on the TV, completely ignoring my question.
'I don't know. I don't make them."
'For the last few hours, many questions are popping in my head, but no one is answering them." She pouted.
'Who did you ask before me?"
'The cab driver and the cute guy in the elevator."
'Which cute guy?"
'I have never seen him before. But he lives on the floor below us. He's a little older than us. He is a brunette and has blue eyes—"
'That was a girl," I deadpanned. A college girl with short brown hair lived in the apartment below us as far as I knew, and there was no such guy—cute or not—with that description.
'But he had short hair."
'Yes, she has short hair as well."
'Oh, no. I flirted with her." She slapped her forehead with her palm.
'Congratulations. She thinks you are a lesbian now." I clapped for her.
'Ugh, whatever. She didn't answer my questions either. Bad girl." That poor girl was probably just dying to get out of the elevator. 'So, my dear roomie, you gotta answer them." She grinned widely at me.
'Go ahead, roomie."
'You are a guy, right?" she asked, and I gave her a flat look.
'Yes, unless I have a secret vagina I don't know about."
Annabelle giggled hearing my comeback. 'So I have heard that guys get hard every morning when they wake up, is it true?"
I nodded my head awkwardly.
'And can a woman actually come twenty times during sex?" she inquired.
'How shall I know? I'm not a woman."
'And a virgin," she quipped.
Could I please put some tissue in her mouth to stop her from talking?
'Hey, what would you do if I ever have sex with you and I—" I put my hand on my mouth before she got any further with her question.
'Stop asking such questions."
She tried to wiggle under my hold but seeing as I didn't budge, she nodded her head slowly.
'No more sexual questions?"
She nodded again, and the momentum seemed to have made her guts flip. And the next thing I knew, she threw up on my hand.
I instantly removed my hand and grabbed whatever that could help from her hurling on the couch any further. I handed her the ice cream tub in a panic on which she started to vomit.
I had to stop myself from throwing up at the sight.
However, after a moment, I sucked in a deep breath, cooling myself down, swallowing my disgust, and rubbed her back in circles with my clean hand.
Once she had emptied her insides, I took the former ice cream tub to the kitchen to dispose of it. I washed my hands very thoroughly before going back to clean up the little mess she had made on the couch.
When I got back, she was dancing like a maniac on top of the couch as some music played on the TV. For some reason, she had discarded her top and was spinning it around like a stripper. Thank goodness, she was still wearing her camisole.
Her dance moves were so weird and funny but somehow cute as well. But I was afraid that she would lose her balance and fall on the glass coffee table.
'Hey, get down from there," I commanded.
'No, you get up here, Casanova. Move your hips with me," she slurred.
'No."
'Comeeeee," she dragged out.
'Well, you asked for it," I warned briefly before climbing the couch and swooping her up in my arms. I dropped her back on the couch. 'Now, stay here. I'll get a towel for you." She still had some leftovers around her lips.
When I got back with the towel, Annabelle wasn't in the living room anymore. I found her in the kitchen, her nose buried in the fridge.
'What are you doing?" I asked curiously, and she turned around. I almost got a heart attack at her sight.
She had mayonnaise all over her face and sauce in her hair. 'I thought it would be cool to put some face cream on and dye my hair red. Don't I look good?"
'You look fucking breathtaking," I exaggerated.
She giggled shyly. 'Aww, don't get a crush on me. I won't marry you."
'Oh, no. What shall I do if you don't marry me? I'll have to live the life of an old maid," I played along, not knowing what else to say.
'Don't worry. I'll find you another old maid."
'Sure, sure, now let's get the makeup off. You don't want me jinxing your beautiful face, do you?" I cooed, and she shyly covered her face like a new braid.
I internally rolled my eyes and wiped her face and patted her head with the towel to get some sauce out.
'Let's take you to bed."
As I was taking her back to her room, I noticed a red spot on her collarbone. It looked like a hickey. Strange. As far as I knew, she didn't have a boyfriend to give her a love bite.
So once I made her sit on the edge of her bed, I sat beside her and asked, 'Answer me seriously. Where were you? Did something happen?"
Unlike before when she dodged my question, this time, she burst out crying.
My heart clenched at the sight of her tears.
'Hey, hey, it's okay." I rubbed her back in circles as she sobbed.
She suddenly hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around her too, without caring that the sauce from her hair was smudging on my t-shirt. 'I… almost got raped today in the restaurant I went to for an interview."
'What?" That was all I could let out.
I felt a bulging rage in me—something I hadn't felt for years. But this wasn't about me. Annabelle needed my comfort, instead of anger. However, a particular restaurant was definitely losing its license.
'Thankfully, I was strong enough to save myself, but no one believed me... They said I was shaming them because the manager didn't give me the job," Annabelle said in a broken voice. 'But I would never…"
I stroked her sticky hair, letting her continue at her own pace.
'I'm not a slut... I didn't come onto the manager… He was the one who wanted me to sleep with him, but when I didn't agree…" she tightly clutched the fabric of my shirt, burying her face in my chest, 'He started forcing himself on me… Yet no one believed me."
'I believe you," I said softly.
She tilted her chin up, looking at me with her big hazel eyes filled with tears. 'Really?"
I nodded. 'Yes, you weren't at fault at all."
She smiled at me. 'You're nice sometimes, you know? You should be like this more often," she said and snuggled up to me.
'Don't get all cozy on me."
'There you go, being a jerk again," she chuckled.
We stayed like that for a few moments before she pulled herself apart. 'I want to get some nail polish on," she announced, and I let out a sigh. She wasn't planning to sleep anytime soon, was she? 'Oh, but before that, I need to thank you."
'You bet—" I started to say, but I was cut off by a pair of lips on mine. My breath hitched at the sudden action.
Before I could even grasp my emotions, Annabelle pulled back. 'A thank you kiss for you," she sang and ran out of her room like a little child while I remained frozen.
I touched my lips where hers had been just a few seconds ago.
Annabelle took my first kiss and she wouldn't even remember it.
