Foreign Tongues

He’d continued to lie down on the bench without much care of his surroundings. His appearance was just so carefree; not a care in this world noticed. I couldn’t judge however, as there was no key of locks to his thoughts. The wind ceased to blow and the sky turned brighter, warmer; it had been cloudy and windy before. Beads of sweat travelled down our foreheads to our flushed cheeks, our guardians had long wandered off, gone as they had matters of their own to settle. It were just him and I, the two of us, on our very own world of unsaid and mutual understanding.

‘Gah!’ He suddenly screamed but not out of fear, ‘How do you survive in this damned heat? It’s like a bloody oven,’ He complained.

‘Ya just have to, it can’t be helped. I am astonished as to how you have yet to adjust.’ I say with false surprise, slowly my face forms into a mocking smirk, but playful. The wind returned, unbound hair blows in its direction. ‘Do winds have mood swings?’ I added on and he gave no comment. It was expected as the lying figure had fallen asleep once again.

The short moments of silence continued as well as the short-lived conversations. His desire to sleep due to the heat was problematical, at least on my side of the view. We would start conversations only to have it end sentences later. It was time yet again, he woke, and I spoke. Only that this time I’d taken his hand, the very one that laid sloppily swinging by his side.

Surprisingly, his hands were big, yet so fragile at the same time. I took it and played with it for a while; ranging from random timespans. Pinching his hand and by pulling on his bony fingers by skin. ‘You have big hands…’ I state and perhaps praised. ‘They’re like a girl’s.’ He returned. Voice dripping with silent… frustration? He didn’t like his bony, famine hands. Yet I found them surprisingly nice in a way.

Slowly, he broke contact of his skin from mine. He withdrew his hand, basically; and stared blankly at his palms. ‘Too thin...’ He mumbled softly, but not to the point it was unheard. I heard the hidden comment and giving no words I reached for it. His hand.

---

‘Will you stop grinning already?! Geez…’ My voice wasn’t loud but it clearly displayed the embarrassment I held that was truly-but-failing-horribly. Trying to hide it made the situation worse. Ever since I told him to sleep, he’d been looking at me, grinning, from what? I did not know; but he laughed first, though. Movements in his fingers were wave-like patterns, I continue to pull on them, occasionally pressing the popping veins. There was nothing to do then.

Open interaction was not so good an idea?

Softly, noises in the background could be heard. He and I did not give much mind to it but the noise gradually grew closer and closer. Louder. It was his name being called, the voice familiar, it was his friend.

His original purpose here was a class meeting. Skipping out on such, he was finally found and retrieved back by his peers. They were seated out at a café, at Table 2. Loud conversations and continuous laughter could be heard from the across the street. We arrived to their table sooner in time and the journey wasn’t a long one. In fact, the bench we met at was rather close to the one they held the gathering at but not so much that we were seen. Upon his arrival, they grew louder and so did he. Of gleeful ‘Hi’s and hello’s’. They spoke of topics unknown to me, catching up was seemingly impossible.

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I sat next to him, not attracting much attention to myself. I continued sipping on an unfinished and seemingly neglected milkshake, falling once again into a deep, unfocused gaze. We were close, so, so close only moments ago. Yet the gap between he and I are so far apart now. At first the blame went unto his friends, they took him away; into a world I held not a key to. The curse went upon myself mere seconds later. I was being unreasonable and selfish, self-loathing or blame changed nothing or much for that matter. I couldn’t change anything, it wasn’t even a ‘won’t’.

Despite the loud bunch that I was seated with, not many scornful gazes fell to us. It wasn’t anything to be surprised about really, since there was almost no one to start with. Silently, I thought to myself how I desired the peaceful and wordless moments between him and me again. Whereupon we were alone; and It hasn’t even been half an hour yet. My gaze fell unto him, doubting he noticed. Crowds were never a thing of mine. What about him?

---

A girl’s voice, then a man’s. My eyes were shut, boredom had overtook me and I’d resorted to playing games with myself. Lonely, I know. Differentiating ones voice to another, separating them. Their language was the same as the one I’d spoken my entire life but it was somehow foreign.

Under no warning, he suddenly stood. He was smiling but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. No one seemed to notice apparently and he politely excused himself whereupon the surrounding people didn’t mind. Was he uncomfortable due to the heat or did one of his friends push a wrong button? Taking hold of my wrist, he wished a final goodbye and pulled me along. I ceased to struggle despite the tightening grip around my wrist. It wasn’t enough to cause a bruise but surely a reddened mark.

‘Hey, where’re we going?’ I asked in a worried, leisure-like voice. The point was to make him feel or look less anxious. ‘Back, we’re returning and going, back.’ As predicted, anxious. ‘To the bench?’ I asked, puzzled. For the first time, ever since the eternity of a meeting he looked at me. Right in the eye. Expression turning soft and pained. Somehow.

His back was broad I’d noticed. To make things more awkward, he even stopped speed walking while he turned his head to see me. Then came a voice, full of comfort, control and relief; ‘Yep.’ he said. The grip on his hand to my wrist did not lessen but tightened instead.

So, he didn’t like the crowd I noticed soon after. Were they too loud? Or maybe they asked something inappropriate perhaps? A thousand questions ran through my mind and before I noticed, we had already arrived at the bench. He offered me a seat and I silently accepted. He then laid his head on my lap. Shocked at first, the awkward fidget during the first few seconds stopped. I stroked his head as I would a cat, or dog. Maybe a turtle even and he smiled. ‘What happened?’ the words finally slipped and there were no hesitation in them. Unlike the usual scenario whereupon a person would have to control as to not stutter I was the total opposite.

It had its pros.

And cons. I mean, there was a slight chance it might’ve appeared nonchalant and uncaring. L

His eyelids were closed, replaying the same scene over from the look in his expression. I gently caressed his head. The texture was soft and it was not expected. It always looked rough, sometimes weird at one point a time.