2.

August looked strange with the background of the kitchen behind him as he sat at the table. Rowen leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and her eyes were glued to him as he would scoop milk in his spoon and dump it back into his bowl. He continuously did that until he finally leaned back into the chair, running his fingers over his left forearm.

“Is it bothering you?” Rowen asked, announcing that she was still there. She watched August look up at her and his face light up. She stepped carefully across the kitchen, for her mother had dropped a glass earlier and Rowen wasn’t positive she had cleaned it all, and dropped into the chair across from him.

“No, it’s fine. It just feels weird. I wasn’t able to feel it after they numbed it. It just started to wear off and it’s different,” he stood up and stumbled over to the sink. It was then that Rowen realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt; how had she missed that? He set the bowl in the water and leaned against the counter, facing her.

“Is it alright if I go change real quick?” Rowen slipped out of the chair and pointed unhelpfully behind her. She raised her eyebrows as August began laughing. “What’s funny…?”

“You’re asking me if you could change in your room?” He gazed over at her, shaking his head slightly. “It’s your room, Rowen. It doesn’t matter.”

She rolled her eyes and put her hands in her jacket pocket. “Well, I didn’t know if you were going back up or not.”

August shrugged and crossed his arms, hiding the gash on his arm. “I’m going to take a shower anyway. It feels nice to be out of bed, you know?”

Rowen nodded, slunk out of the room, and bounded quickly up the stairs, skipping a few. She pulled her hair out of the braid she slept in and found it unfortunately wavy as it fell over her shoulder. Deciding she’d just wear it up today, she pushed into her room and flipped the light on, wishing she hadn’t.

Clothes from the both of them were everywhere, stacked in random piles, and her heart sunk. Was any of it clean? Rowen dove into the nearest pile and pulled out a tank top that looked relatively clean, until she looked at the front. Not even knowing what it was, she threw it across the room and dug through it some more, finding a good pair of jeans. She stood up and jumped over to her closet, closed and hopefully untouched.

She pushed the hangers of her shirts across the bar, her eyes were keen for a good shirt to wear. Pausing at an old Beatles shirt, she yanked it off the hanger and shed her current shirt, a Vans shirt she had from an ex-boyfriend. She slid the vintage shirt over her head and fixed it as she pulled it down. Grinning, Rowen opened the other closet door and looked in the mirror: it was a little tight, but it still fit nicely. She danced her way out of the Spandex she always slept in and stepped into her pants, which were ripped largely in the knees.

Rowen walked out of her room, but realized halfway through the hallway that her shirt had a large hole on the side. Right there, she pried it off and crumpled it into a ball. Just as she was tossing it at the wall, she caught a glimpse of August at the edge of the staircase. She froze, for some reason, and her wide eyes met his shocked gaze. Immediately, he spun around just as she did.

“You know, the whole purpose of changing in a room is so people don’t see.”

“Yeah, I know. I was…just…I don’t know. But, do you need to get in the room?” Rowen fumbled for words, just barely catching them.

“I need clothes, granted I’m half naked too. But, I think you should get a shirt first. Am I right?” August’s voice was smug in a strange way as he spoke and it carried around her like a cloud. Rowen sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Um, sure. I’ll be quick,” she raced into the room and scoured for a tank top, knowing she had a good one somewhere by the window. Luckily, Rowen found a teal tank top and pulled it on as she made her way across the room. She stepped out into the hall and found August leaning against the wall directly across from the door.

“Better,” he said with a smile on his face. He pushed himself off the wall and he shuffled into the room, holding the towel around his waist with one hand. Just before he closed the door and Rowen was halfway down the hall, he called out, “It’s a nice tattoo, you know.”

Rowen spun around faster than she thought she was capable of as the door clicked close. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, wondering how he caught sight of that; granted, he did turn around first. She huffed and set off down stairs to the bathroom.

She turned right and followed the white hall all the way to the end. Rowen walked in and was greeted with a strong smell of perfume. Holding her breath, she stepped in and shuffled up to the sink, greeting her tired reflection with dead eyes. She immediately flipped the faucet on and splashed her face with the cold water. Rowen stared at her brightened face and her eyes caught her empty gauged ears. She lunged for the cabinet on the wall and pulled out the tiny plate that held her white tunnels.

She ran them under water for a quick second then put them in, grinning at how they looked. Somehow, they completed her look oddly. Rowen twisted her head to the side, then the other, and scoured the drawers for the brush that seemed to find a new place every time she tried to search for it. The thing had legs, she thought. She found it, luckily, in the first drawer she tried and she ran it through her dusty blonde hair, straightening out the waves.

Rowen slipped all of her waist length hair over her shoulder, running her fingers through it along with the brush. She began braiding and listening intently to the music August had blaring from upstairs. She could feel the bass rock the walls and it travelled through her body, rocking her side to side. Rowen finished the lengthy braid off with a clear hair tie and she twisted the entire braid back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She pinned it there and hair sprayed it a bit. Already having brushed her teeth, she poured mouthwash in her mouth and swished it around quickly, before spitting it out messily.

Deciding that was all that was needed for her day out, she tore through the make-up drawer for the gold eye liner that made her green eyes even brighter, just in case. She turned the light off and skipped down the hall, her body bursting with energy. Rowen stumbled into the living room and pounced on the couch, peering behind it for her purse. Seeing it, she lunged for it and pulled it out, shaking off pounds of dust as she did so.

“What time is it, Rowen?” August asked from the bottom of the stair case, just out of sight of the clock. She glanced up at him, wearing a light gray V-neck and black straight legged pants, and twisted her head to the clock.

“One ten.”

Rowen looked back over at him, no traces of a sickness found on his appearance. His hair was spiked into a faux hawk, the tips curled naturally, and his septum ring was in. Catching her stare, he grinned and shuffled down the rest of the stairs. “What time are we leaving?”

“When do you want to leave? We’re not supposed to be there until two thirty, so there’s quite a bit of time. Do you want to go out and do something while we wait?” Rowen suggested, shrugging and digging through her bag as she spoke. She found her wallet and clicked it open, a wad of twenties tumbling out. A wide smile cracked out on her lips and she stuffed it back in, closing it. She returned her eyes to August, standing with his hands in his pockets in front of her.

“I’m in the mood for coffee. What about you? A coffee, then maybe a park?” He shrugged and gazed down at his feet, covered by mismatching socks.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Rowen stood up from the couch, “Now?”

“Sure,” he grinned and set off into the kitchen, dragging his feet along the tile. Rowen stuffed her wallet in her pocket and kicked her shoes out from underneath the couch; they were her checkered slip on Vans and she quickly put them on before walking into the kitchen.

 In the middle of the table were the keys that belonged to her mother’s car, left in the driveway for Rowen to take August to the doctor. Rowen swiped them into her pocket and glanced out the window above the sink as snowflakes tumbled gracefully out of a light gray sky. She grinned and trotted over to the doorway, where her jacket was still laying.

“You ready?” she asked as she pulled her jacket down, fixing it and slipping the keys into the pocket instead. Rowen looked over at August, who was crouched by the door putting on his black combat boots. He shifted to a straight position and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah.”

Rowen narrowed her eyes, seeing that he had no jacket. “I don’t mean to be your mother, but going out in the snow without a jacket won’t help your pneumonia. Go find one. Maybe a hat too…”

August laughed, but still shuffled past her and bounded up the stairs, cackling all the way to the room. Rowen strode across the kitchen to the light door, resting her hand on the handle. She listened to the silence that hung over her and August piercing it with random lyrics he began to sing. Not being able to suppress it, she chuckled as she remembered one of days she had hung out with him, before the whole gang thing happened.

“You need to sing professionally,” Rowen had said while they were driving to find somewhere to eat.

“It’s not something I could make a living off of. I’m not that good,” August had scoffed, silencing the radio that tempted his voice. He had been singing along to a Foster The People song, just a few octaves lower, when she had interrupted.

“I think you are. Oh, hey, I need a singer to accompany my compositions,” she had added lightly, kidding since she thought he would never take the chance. Without verbally responding, he just shrugged and turned their conversation a different direction.

Rowen, out of her memory, put her hood up while August made his way through the kitchen, a scarf and beanie adorning his person. He wore one of Rowen’s jackets, the teal one that was slightly too big, but it fit him nearly perfectly. Glancing up at her, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged, slipping his hands into the pockets. “Is this alright, if I borrow it?”

“Of course! I never wear it anyway,” Rowen said as she pulled the door open. A freezing gust of air violently raced into the house, sending chills up and down her body. She threw her hood up over her head and carefully stepped down onto the porch, realizing it was covered in an invisible layer of ice. Rowen let August pass her and then she locked the door behind him.

“I love the snow,” he sighed contently as he stepped down the stairs, leaving footprints in the thick untouched snow. August stopped at the bottom and twirled around to face her, a smirk on his face.

“It’s just frozen rain, you know. I thought you hated it,” Rowen lightly said, hoping that he wouldn’t be affected the by her implying that night. She marched down the steps, making sure that she wouldn’t slip like last time, and walked across the icy driveway. Unlocking the car, she glanced up at the sky, still snowing, and stared over at August as he shuffled up to the passenger door.

“Well, I wasn’t left to die in the snow, now was I?” He looked expectantly over at her before yanked the door open and sliding in.

Rowen rolled her eyes at how casual his tone was and got in the car, immediately flipped the heat on. She jammed the keys into the ignition and backed out of the slippery drive.

“I’ve always loved it, actually. There’s something so pure and innocent about the snow. It’s like there’s still good in the world, you know?” August clicked his seatbelt on and twisted to face her. He sighed, pulling off his scarf off and sending it into the backseat.

“Yeah, but growing up in it proved that it wasn’t so innocent,” Rowen put her seatbelt on as well and drove up the street, feeling the heat kick on.

“A little too many snowball fights?” He grabbed the CD case that was always between the two seats and leaned back into his seat, unzipping it.

She glanced over at him and she eased on the breaks at the stop sign. He was flipping through the slips with pursed lips and his attention was only half on the CDs. Rowen sped up to go through the intersection and shifted in her seat, “Actually, there was a perfect amount. The violence was a little much.”

August laughed, crisp and warm in the cold car, and pulled out a silver CD. He stuffed it into the player and turned the volume down to where it was just barely audible. Instantly, Rowen recognized it and shut it off, groaning. “I can’t believe that’s in here! I told her to never play it again…”

“No, no, Rowen! Your music is beautiful and of course your mom has it in here for obvious reasons. It calms your mind, you know,” August objected as he turned it back on and the piano music resumed. Rowen sighed, took the case from between them and tossed it onto the backseat.

“This was from freshman year. My new stuff is better than this, yet she still has it.” She turned the corner and came up to the highway. “Where do you want to go? Hot chocolate instead of coffee?”

“The gas station up on your left has amazing hot chocolate,” August pointed across the street as Rowen switched lanes, into the turning one. She followed his finger and maneuvered into the parking lot, weaving through the gas pumps to the parking spaces.

Rowen glanced over at him, a sneaky smirk on her face, and she pulled the keys out, tossing them into her pocket. She got out and was met by a heavy snow, one that just began to fall. Pulling her hood off, she turned and slowly walked up to the sidewalk, meeting August there within seconds. He linked their arms together with a grin and they strode into the warm building.

The girl behind the register perked up from leaning against the counter as soon as she saw them enter. Rowen ignored her overly excited greeting and the burning feeling she had in her back that told her the girl was watching them walk down to the drink section. August seemed completely unfazed by it was he dragged her along to the hot chocolate machine. With one hand, he took out a cup, handing it to her, and pulled out another for himself.

She turned the tap on and the liquid tumbled gracefully out; like a muddy waterfall, Rowen thought as she watched it.  Once it was just barely to the brim, August slid his underneath and she slipped her arm out of his to search for a lid. She shuffled around the aisle, passing a strange array of pastries to go with the hot drinks, and finally found the lids beside the extra cups. Taking two out of the tray, she came up to August’s shoulder, situating one on his cup. She slipped around him and pounded the other onto her cup.

Wrapping her hands around the hot cup, Rowen beamed as they walked up to the counter. She set her cup down as she took out her wallet and carefully slipped a twenty out, for that was all she had for bills, and slid it over to the flawless face that had her eyes glued to August. Rowen slapped it to break the cashier out of her trance and she did just that. The girl typed in the drinks and hurriedly gave back the change. August caught on just then and swiped his drink from the counter, taking a subtle step back.

Rowen stuffed the change into her pocket and followed August through the doors, just as two thin, but muscular men walked through the other door. Instantly, he froze and Rowen could tell there was great effort for him to keep walking. The two men noticed this and they both began laughing as they entered. August stumbled out into the snow and reached out for Rowen’s free hand. She, concerned and nervous, took it and pulled him closer to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, dipping her head to look at his eyes that were intently staring at their feet. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and anxiety clenched her stomach.

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes for a brief moment, before resting his head on her shoulder. “Those two were part of the gang.”

Author's Note

:D