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Lance

I lay awake in the motel room, staring up at the ceiling. Through the open window, I could hear the sound of crickets and the occasional car passing, it's headlights casting light across the walls of our small room. The floor was hard and uncomfortable and it smelled like puke and piss, but I wasn't about to crawl up into the bed with Keith.

I wasn't really mad at him still, but I wanted him to at least apologize. It had hurt like hell, but I was able to fix it, after all, and I'd given him enough silent treatment. I just wanted him to be sorry.

And maybe that was stupid. It probably was, considering what he was. I didn't know if devils could feel empathy, regret, shamefulness, so I didn't know if it was possible for Keith to even know what it meant to be sorry, but I wanted him to know. I wanted him to be... so many things. More considerate, more sensitive, more careful.

I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes. I liked that he could be funny, in the driest way possible. I liked that he knew what happiness was and that his smile was rare but real. I knew that he had strong morals and knew what he wanted.

I admired him for those things. I didn't know what it meant to be stable with my choices and sound with my decisions. I just did what was expected of me, never knowing what would come next, always wondering what would be my next challenge.

Keith was nothing like that. He knew what he wanted and how to get it, and he seemed to always know what he was doing, even if he didn't. He reminded me of Adam, in some ways. Cool and strong-hearted.

I glanced up at the bed Keith was sleeping in. Or, he could be awake, I didn't know. I wanted so many things, it was hard to keep track. I wanted to be valuable, for someone to think that I was good enough. I wanted to be strong and grounded. I wanted to be smart like Matt and brave like Adam and kind like my mom.

I wanted to have a place in the world, and so far, I hadn't found it. I didn't... know what my life meant if you could even call it that. I was just spinning through the years, doing random pointless things and constantly trying to be good enough at something.

Where was my place? Where was I wanted?

I flipped back onto my back, sighing quietly. The crickets chirped below the sound of Keith's soft breathing. He sounded asleep, and I don't know why, but I called out quietly to him.

"Keith?" I whispered, fingers laced over my stomach. No reply. I closed my eyes, pressing my lips together.
"I... I just want you to say sorry," I breathed, then pulled my blanket over my head and fell asleep, a pit of sadness knotting in my stomach.

...

For the first time in 4 days, I woke up on my own. Sitting up, I looked around the tiny motel room, quickly realizing that Keith wasn't there. In a way, I guessed that was a good thing- it meant that I could sleep in if I wanted to, but upon looking at the clock and realizing that I should be getting up anyway, I decided to just get ready for the day.

Keith's bed was made neatly, and there was a piece of paper on the comforter. Picking it up, I recognized Keith's curly, looping handwriting.

Going out.

Wow, very descriptive. Sighing, I looked outside. The sun was climbing steadily in the blue sky, and I could see heat rolling off the pavement outside. I checked my phone. It was April 28th, sunny with a high of 74 degrees.

After folding my blanket from the floor and putting it and my pillow on the bed, I walked into the kitchen to make coffee and root around the kitchen for something to eat. I found a small container of instant coffee and some sugar in the cabinet, but not much else, except some peanuts and a bottle of Tums.

Sighing, I mixed the coffee into hot water and poured some sugar in it. I needed to conserve my Energy if I had to produce some sort of breakfast for Keith and me, so I guessed I'd be having black coffee until he showed up.

As if on command, I heard the door open behind me. Turning, I was met with a sweaty Keith, who happened to be carrying several shopping bags and a gallon of milk. He didn't meet my eyes as he set the bags down on the kitchen table, then set to unlacing his shoes.

I pushed myself up to sit on the counter, watching Keith carefully. I'd given him money yesterday when we'd stopped at CVS for snacks, so he probably used his leftover cash to pay for everything.

"Hey," I tried, and Keith's head snapped up so fast I flinched. His eyes were wide. I tried to keep my composure, trying to look calm and collected.

Keith shook himself, then looked back down at his shoes. "Hey," he murmured.

I swung my legs slightly, leaning back. "I see you went shopping," I said slowly, "Thank you."

Keith finished untying his shoes, setting them neatly by the door, whereas I had, somewhat recklessly, kicked my own shoes off and they lay haphazardly around the doorway.

"It's no problem," he replied, finally holding my gaze. The collar of his shirt was damp with sweat.

"What'd you get?" I asked casually, hopping off the counter to peer through the bags.

Keith started pulling items out of the plastic, "Eggs, butter, bread, peanut butter, jelly, crackers, Oreos..." he trailed off. I slowly stepped closer to him, then closer still. I didn't know what to say to break the residual tension.

Looking down at Keith, I made him meet my gaze. I could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. "Thank you," I repeated, trying to put more than that into my words. It was more than a thank you. I was trying to excuse him for what had happened last night.

I wasn't sure if he understood until his eyes softened a bit, eyebrows drawn together, the slightest bit of remorse creeping into his voice as he, too, repeated, "It's no problem." His dark eyes shifted around my face, unable to focus. I was the first to step back, just a little bit relieved.

...

"Should I just stop asking where we're going?" Keith asked as we sped along the highway, following the snaking line of cars to our destination.

I let out a small laugh. "Probably, yeah. I can't see why you'd keep trying- I love surprises."

"I'm not sure I could say the same," Keith commented, fidgeting with his seatbelt.

I smiled to myself and turned up the radio. Things between Keith and I were more comfortable now, which I was thankful for. I didn't mind too much that he hadn't specifically apologized, but I got the feeling that maybe he wasn't that kind of person.

Maybe he was the kind of person who tried to show that he was sorry instead of actually saying it. Or maybe he was just a devil who didn't know what being sorry meant.

As we slipped into traffic, the road narrowing from highway to a single two-way street, carrying us past palm trees and dry shrubs and over hills. Soon, the long line of cars passed under a huge banner, announcing our destination.

Keith read it aloud slowly. "California... Poppy Festival?" I grinned.

"Yep. Welcome to the actual first stop on your list. I took you to the flower shop to see what your favorite kind of flower was, and, extremely ironically, it was the poppy bouquet that you wanted. So, of course, the Poppy Festival is where we had to go. You're lucky we made it on time- it's kind of amazing that you chose poppies right when the famous festival is happening."

Keith didn't reply. I looked over at him nervously. What if he didn't like it? But, Keith's face was alight with excitement, something I rarely saw, and he flashed me a small smile.

"Thanks, Halohead," he said before pressing his face to the window, looking outside to admire the stands and tents we passed, full of the bright orange color of the flower. There was poppy clothing, poppy food, poppy plants everywhere, and as the orange petals surrounded us, I felt satisfaction roll through me. I was doing alright.

I had completed Keith's first request without any major problems, so I had to be doing okay if nothing had gone wrong yet.

...

heeeeeyyy guys happy monday! a new week, a new opportunity for procrastination!!

qotd: favorite restaurant? for me it's chick-fil-a and johnny rockets yummm

iiiii love you!!