Page 82 of Encounter

Biting down my lip, the blood in my veins rose to the boiling point.

If I told you Blake was the one to start the fight, would you see him as a simple-minded, pathetic loser? Or would that still be me? Would the blame still somehow fall on me?

“It had nothing to do with that,” I murmured, almost offended he would think that. I wasn’t as childish as him. He was the one hiding things from me for no reason, pushing me away, instead of telling me what I wanted to know about my own mother. How arrogant did he have to be to think I acted out because of that? “Whatever.” Mustering all of my courage, I dashed toward him and grabbed my bag. Staring at me like he expected me to quietly take it as always, Dad opened his mouth as I moved past him and reached for the door. “I’m going to study at Zola’s. I’ll be back tomorrow,” I mumbled, hoping he would ignore my shaky, pathetic lie and just not care like always.

“Galen!” he snapped, but didn’t try to stop me. “You better have a long think about your goddamn behavior!”

Pressing my lips together and breathing deeply through my nose to calm down, I rushed off the driveway, zoning out his shouting behind me. Rummaging through my bag, I got out my headphones and turned up the first song that came up so I could hear nothing but the calming instruments as I got away.

I was running away again. I was running away, but this time, it felt like I rantowardsomething, rather thanfrom.

Glancing at my phone, I wondered if Chast was that goal.

Did he hate it? Me, always bothering him. Sometimes, he would become distant for no reason—not in a cruel way, but in a way I couldn’t understand. I would usually text him between lectures, but I figured he was already used to me calling in whenever. Surprisingly, even I was getting used to it—I never used to be spontaneous. Ever since I could remember, I would get anxious and shaky over any slight change of plans. I would go through everything that was supposed to happen that day in my head right in the morning, even as a little kid.

With the ringing in my headphones, I tried to make sense of all the emotions swirling in my chest, mixed in with the stinging lack of oxygen as I kept dashing across the street, unable to stop.

“Hey, Gale.” Chast sighed on the other side. “Did we have a session today?” Judging by his tone, he probably had a long day.

“No... No.”

“Oh. You usually call earlier is all.”

Was I bothering him? I really didn’t want to go back home. I couldn’t stand it without arguing with Dad or doing something worse. “We don’t have to, if you’re busy or—”

“I put a ‘lil too much on my shoulders today,” he admitted, a low chuckle resonating through his voice. “Think it’s because all the time I spent layin’ around the past few weeks. You can still come here if you want.” Like my body expected those words—begged to hear them—it responded with a fuzzy buzzing sensation passing through my torso. Suppressing a smile, I looked down on my feet as I walked, now finally slowing down.

“I’d like that,” I whispered, deciding to push aside the voice telling me I was a burden—that he didn’t want me and found me annoying—and instead relished in the calming sensation I experienced. “I’ll get a taxi.”

?

By the time I arrived at Chast’s building, most of the tension in my body was gone. Aside from the aching in my arm, I was at ease and ready to spend the evening doing nothing, ignoring everything and everyone.

As always, Chast stood in his balcony door, watching me. I had to double check when I noticed he didn’t have a cigarette in hand.

Walking up the stairs, I realized I still had my uniform on and probably looked like shit, too. Chast waited in the open door, leaning to the side. Kitty sat next to his leg like a bodyguard or some majestic Egyptian statue, rubbing her skinny, balding body against him.

“Hey,” I said, smiling softly. With a nod, Chast moved aside. As I followed to the living room, I bent down to run my hand down Kitty’s back, earning me a loud purr.

“How was your week?” he asked. Instead of heading to the couch with me, he went to the fridge and like always, brought me a can of soda.

“Al-alright,” I lied, hoping my disinterest and a shrug would let him know I didn’t really want to focus on that. Instead, I took in the smell of his apartment—Kitty’s elderly, somewhat musty scent, the tinge of nicotine soaked into the walls, and the prevalent spice aroma. I couldn’t understand why it all felt soright, so familiar—ten times more so than my own home. Why I felt so comfortable on Chast’s old, stained couch, in an area Dad would always tell me was to be avoided at all cost.

Tiredly plopping on the couch, Chast scared Kitty, making her jump off with a surprising amount of energy and turn to us with a disgruntled meow. Chucking, he gave her an apologetic smile and tried to lure her back, but she was clearly over it. With her tail up and bumhole on full display, Kitty swayed it from side to side and headed to the bedroom, where I heard her jump on her cat tree.

“Jeez,” Chast mumbled sarcastically while he handed me the can. “She’s been a right moody bitch lately.”

Smiling, I stretched my hand to get the soda, forgetting about the pain. Grimacing and barely holding in an uncomfortable grunt, I tried to act like it was nothing and leaned back into the couch. Unfortunately, those brown eyes were already focused on me—there wasn’t much I could keep from Chast. He was a soldier at some point, after all. He had to be aware of everything and everyone, and he was.

Fixating on the dark blue nazar eye amulet above the TV—nothing more than a nod to his background, rather than something he really believed in—I tapped against the can, waiting for him to ask.

“Somethin’ happen?”

I felt bad, almost like I was coaxing him to use that worried, low tone, because it made me feel good. Like someone really cared about me. The moment his fingers caressed my cheek, I tensed up. Meeting his gaze, I held my breath, lips parted, while he checked my face for injuries.

“I umm— I decided to fight back for once,” I mumbled, smiling faintly as I averted my eyes down. I could tell it took Chast aback. With brows raised, he pulled away, leaning against the armrest of the couch and sipping his beer. “It’s only my arm that really hurts, but I’ll be alright. It... ended up much better than I would’ve thought.” I snorted.

Wish I could tell him one of those ‘you should see the other guy’ lines... I’m sure Chast would like that.

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