–Do you guys really believe in the end of the world?
–I don't.
–Well, I... you never know, right?
–So that means you do.
–I don't, but how can anyone be so sure that the mayans weren't right?
–Well, that means believing.
–Don't worry, there's an entire year left.
–Then, it's all gone!
–You guys shouldn't play with something like that. Who knows...
The three were speaking at the balcony. That was one of his many homes, as he liked to call it. It was a big house with rooms delimited by walls meeting themselves at funny angles. Some were at the television room, playing Call of Duty, which one was irrelevant to him. It was a fun game, he liked shooting and all, but it just wasn't all that much.
Others were chatting at the kitchen, they were the ones with the duty of feeding the gang. Perhaps that meant calling the closest pizza store. He liked the idea of giving duties to each one, it was good to be the leader. Or at least to believe it.
It was good to have his soldiers back.
One left the balcony, they were two now.
–It's been a long time since we got to get everybody together like that, right?
–Yep, guess that's normal. People get their own lives and all.
–But the group is still here.
–Yeah.
–Also, you haven't showed up for a while.
–I got back to playing. Also, I had to study for all the month of November, you know the story.
–What have you been playing now?
–Ah, Borderlands. It's insanely fun. Just like the old times.
He knew there was no actual interest in gaming coming from his friend, but it was okay. That is a part of social activities, showing interest in people.
–Cool, man. Just don't stop showing up.
–Haha, I won't.
They played and chatted, eating and drinking. And in the wee hours, it was time to go back home.
The night watched with a million beautiful eyes.
–Wanna drink some Sprite?
–Not really, but I can keep you company.
–Ok, let's go.
They walked to the kitchen, he didn't need to turn on the lights since his eyes were already accustomed to the dark. Always fancied this routine. Keeping eyes closed during the night and then having some sort of night vision afterwards.
He grabbed the bottle inside the fridge. A sudden thought struck.
Holding the beverage, he closed the door and looked at her. She stood there, not smiling nor frowning, the eyes were firm though not serious nor staring.
–Sorry about asking that at the bedroom.
–What do you mean?
–You don't drink, do you?
–I don't.
–I barely forgot that for a moment.
–No problem with that.
–Well, okay.
He filled the glass.
–You're not afraid anymore, are you?
He halted. Coming to think of it, he wasn't so afraid anymore of her sliced mouth.
–I guess I ain't.
Strange thoughts about knives and flesh flew by.
–I think I am getting used to it. Also, it's fun to have someone to talk to.
–That's different. Your reaction at first was... Even more exaggerated than most people.
–Well, I apologize for that...?
–You don't need to.
For a fraction of a second, he saw something in her eyes. But managed to convince himself not much later, that it was perhaps some reflex or just the darkness that made things look strange.
But there was something sad there.
They sat at the benches close to the table.
–Has it ever told you about when I was a child?
–No, what of it?
–I was very afraid of horror movies.
–But you said you liked them.
–I do, and I also did when I was a child. But I was terrified when the time to turn off the lights came. You know, "don't be afraid of the dark, be afraid of what lies inside it". Also, as I saw in the movies, things could attack me from anywhere. And I believed it, because, well, I was a kid.
–I understand. So you overcame it.
–Yes I did.
–Most people never do, though most react not as bad as you did, they never stop running away or screaming.
–But you do like that, don't you?
–Pretty much.
–I would enjoy frightening people too.
–It feels good most of the time. But you don't get to speak much.
–What do you mean?
–It's kinda lonely being scary.
–Ah...
–It is also good to have someone to speak to.
–I say the same, I don't have many people standing awake at such hours. So, to some degree, I get you.
They remained in silence for a while, he would drink a little bit here and there.
–Have you ever been afraid of the dark?
–No. Never.
–I see... Well, I have to go to sleep now. It's getting late and I'll probably be messed up tomorrow.
–Sure.
–You can stay at the lower bed.
–You know I don't sleep.
–I do, that I didn't forget! But, you can lie there for a while until it's time for you to go. If you want to. Must suck to stand on your feet doing nothing for hours.
–Though I can only be around while it is dark, I will accept your offer.
–Good. Let's go.
Wondering about those vacation days. Though there were about a hundred days free of university and studies, he didn't travel nor do anything of the like. Not that it felt bad, but he felt as if something was missing.
Things were working out fine at the psychologist. He could enjoy nights out a bit more, never letting go of money completely, but not feeling like if he spent money, he ought to enjoy a lot. Sometimes the fun was just being there and all, but it was hard to just accept that was it. But how could he go after something he couldn't even describe?
Perhaps movies made him believe that every day can the day of your life.
At some point, he realized he was changing. During one session she made him remember how it was when they first met. It felt weird to come to terms with that, for many years he stated being the same person ever since elementary school. Some people are just averse to changes.
More sociable, less worried and more tired.
There were days in which he did dozens of things untirelessly, and days in which sleeping eight hours straight felt like being hit by a truck. Sleeping was always a bizarre activity. At least the weird dreams didn't change, if that meant something good.
"Growing up means being tired", the idea was forced into his head. So it was okay.
One of these common nights, in which his family would gather friends to play poker, it came back.
During the break, a period of fifteen minutes that not too rarely lasted for one hour, he went to his bedroom to get some rest. The night had a mild temperature and the wind sometimes decided to move leaves around. Eyes closed, thinking on pretty much anything but poker.
–Hello.
The voice butchered all that performed inside.
"Hi."
–I have seen that you miss the past with your friends.
"What do you mean?"
–You know what I mean. It must suck not being the boss anymore. But it's okay right, "people get lives of their own".
"Wh... I don't get it."
–Watch out for the trees, these days. There is no fixed date but you will get it.
He opened his eyes. Disliking to have it wandering though his head, he rushed to the bathroom sink, to wash his face and get back to the game. Or wait for it to start again in the company of people.
The night was still nothing short of common. The breeze.
But could that mean something?
He looked through the window for the entire rest of the game.
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