Theo

When I solemnly retrieve my head from my hands, I turn to my left to find myself greeted by another figure standing there. This time, it's one I've come to know all too familiarly over the past few days.

"What are you doing back here?" I enquire, my shame speaking more volumes than my voice does.

"I thought you might change your mind."

"And why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I guess it's just because I feel that I know you so well," she says, causing me to stir up my face in distaste. The small giggle that escapes her mouth ensuring me her words fit into her idea of a joke allows my face to soften slightly.

"So you've just been waiting around this whole time?" I ask, wondering if she witnessed my last shameful encounter that is proving impossible to discard permanently from my soulless memory.

"Well I went to get a coffee, and I sat and drank it in there so technically no."

"Your money's gone," I blurt out.

"What did you spend it on? Insane amounts of beer?"

"No, it's gone, like... Gone. I thought you might have seen."

"Seen what?"

"Someone took it from me."

"Are you serious? When? How?"

"It doesn't matter how. But the money, it was taken just now. Right before you came."

"By who?"

"Another homeless guy. I tried to fight back but I... I couldn't." My words send a shiver infused with the never ending pathetic feeling that has become me, around my body, countered by the fact that I unknowingly just revealed to her how the money got removed from me in the first place. But, there is also a sense of confusion residing in me as to how I let the money go without a fight. Knowing the amount of strength that can build up inside of me, that I've exerted so venomously in the past, but not using it now, forces me to come to form the foundation of a solid inference.

It's like I wanted it to be taken. Because once it was taken, I knew that I would be back to having nothing again.

And that would make me agree to a certain offer.

"Oh my gosh, that's brutal. Do you know where he is now?"

"Why, are you going to fight him for it?" Her nonchalant expression followed after my words informs me that she is not aware that I am trying to settle the air with overt humor.

Well, I thought it was quite funny.

"Um so you still-- Are you-- You said you thought I would change my mind right?" I try immensely to get my words out in one but the pride instilled predominantly in me yet again proves to be stronger than my sour tongue.

"Yeah."

"Um... Well, it would be nice to sleep in a warm bed for once. Well, an actual bed." I stifle out a hushed moan at the ends of my words.

"So, just to clarify... Is this a yes?"

"Do I really have to say it?"

"Yes. See, it's simple. Follow my lead... Yes."

"Fine. Y-yes, I finally give in, my mouth feeling like it is on fire with the word of approval coming out of it. I can't believe I just agreed to that. I can already feel it in my bones that I'm going to regret it.

"See, wasn't so hard was it?"

I struggle to formulate a correct answer to her question, and I can see the light distress on her face at being ignored.

***

There is a mildly comfortable silence as I follow her lead, whilst receiving the mandatory looks of pure denigration from Manhattan's finest along the way. The usual smell of crisp coffee and cigarette smoke waft into my ear, but this time, there is also the smell of something else. Something unusual. Something ethereal. The smell of an angel.

"We're here."

I look up at the building in front of me, and a range of emotions suddenly transpire through me, but shock fails to be one of them.

Although not exactly the mansion I envisioned her living in, the ladder of steps that befall us - leading up to the glossy maroon front door that appears minute in comparison to the actual building itself - shows me that it is massive nonetheless. The desert sand brick building holds its own as it carefully surrounds a number of what I can only assume to be quintet glazed windows. A white balcony sits on top of the front door, and I am immediately reminded of her again. Why do I associate the color white with her?

I look down at the floor and almost scowl. Even that seems to be made of an unusual material that only the wealthy embark upon in their lifetimes. Walking on it doesn't feel like your typical walk on Earth; it seems like a walk destined for another kind.

I see her notice the admiration in my eye, and quickly snap out of it.

"Are you ready to go inside?"

My body becomes glued to the floor, as I look around and notice the similarities the surrounding houses share with the one right before me. My fingers begin to shake as the realization doesn't slip my mind that I am out of my comfort zone, like a wild forest animal finally allowed amongst Earth's civilians. Everything is foreign to me. I look down at myself in shame, then look in front of me. I am used to this lifestyle, but maybe it is what will be the death of me.

Maybe I need to indulge into a new comfort zone.

Maybe Eliza is that comfort zone.

Maybe Eliza is my saving grace.

"Yeah," I finally say. "I'm ready."

Eliza

Each step we take up the gentle stairs are imbued with the crippling sense of undying nerves that capture the majority of my inner emotions. As I rifle through my bag to locate the key once we have arrived at the front door, my heart makes no endeavour to relieve me of my stresses, and instead, I briefly endure a sinking, plummeting feeling.

But, I know the argument I must posit. I cannot let my worry undo the exact moment that is occurring at present. I will fight for him to stay.

I turn the key through the locks and push the door as far as it can go, signalling for him to go first. He walks through and stops once he reaches the end of the door, and waits for me to shut it.

I lead the way with him trailing just a few feet behind me. We walk down the hallway and then make a right turn into the kitchen, where I see the back of my mother and a laptop in front of her.

"Hey, mom," I open, a sheepish smile housed on my face.

"Don't walk out on me in the middle of a conversation and think that a simple hey would-" she stops as she spins around, and her eyes widen in alarm at the sight of him.

"Hi," he says diffidently. It's the first time he has actually looked remotely shy.

"This is who I was telling you about, mom," I begin, trying to give her a sympathetic look in the hopes that she won't just send him away within a minute of him being here. She turns back to me, her gray eyes piercing into my soul, making me fear the moment we are left alone.

"Um... Why don't you just go and take a shower quickly? You can take one in the room at the very top, at the end of the corridor when you turn right," I say to him.

He nods slightly, before turning to my mother, waiting for some sort of clarification from her. But he doesn't get any. At this point she has slammed her laptop shut.

Realizing he won't be receiving any attention or words of welcome from my mother, he slowly walks away toward the direction of the stairs, and the sound of his footsteps going up each stair fills the unbearable silence in the kitchen, until the footsteps can no longer be heard.

I look at my mother whose brassy glare makes me feel like my eyes will erupt into flames at any second.

"Mom, I know what you're thinking."

"No. No, you don't. Because I'm thinking: where did I go wrong in my parenting? For my only child to disobey a clear direct order I gave to her to not-

"I'm sorry but he-"

"Don't you dare interrupt me," she orders, waving a finger at me daringly. "A clear direct order to not let that person into my house, and you set out straight to disregard and disobey it."

"I didn't set out straight to do that, mom. I respected your decision but you didn't see him today, okay? He had been beaten up or something like that, and he really can't take the streets anymore."

"That is not your problem, and it is certainly not mine. Did you ever stop to think just why he got beaten up? That maybe he started it and he just lost? Or maybe he won and the other guy looks even worse than him?"

"But they're not the ones living on the streets night and day, wondering when they'll be able to have something to eat and to drink."

"I do not trust that boy inside my house, Eliza. He looks dangerous."

"He's not dangerous mom, he's going through the hardest time at the moment."

"And how do you know there aren't people after him? That will soon find out he's staying here and come and attack us in our own home?"

"Mom, please. You're just trying to find any excuse to not take him in."

"No, Eliza, I'm thinking of the possibilities. Something that you should have done before you carted him over to my house. You don't know who he is."

"Mom-"

"You don't know what he's capable of."

"Mom-"

"He's homeless, so how do you know he's not rummaging through every drawer upstairs in this house right now trying to find money-"

"Mom-" I shout, my voice reaching a point of desperation.

"I mean, do you even know his name?" She detects the look of apprehension on my face. "You don't, do you?"

"Mom, his name is not what's important here. It's him having somewhere to live."

"Do you realize what you've done, Eliza? You have just invited a complete stranger to live and sleep in the house only I pay for-"

"He needed help."

"That is not your decision to make. And what did I say about interrupting me? You completely went behind my back and decided to take matters into your own hands, after I told you no. You don't have the right to do that Eliza, not when you don't pay rent."

"I'm sorry, I just thought that if I brought him here-"

"What? That I would find it hard to say no?"

"That you would see how desperate he is. Please, mom. It's not like this is my boyfriend or anything and I want him to sleep in the same bed as me. He has nowhere else to go. And whether he's dangerous or he brought this all on himself, I'm sure we'll find out soon and then you have all the right to kick him out. But come on, he's homeless. You can't turn down a homeless person."

I take a deep breath as a replacement for what I gathered would be a logical argument from my mom. Instead, I can see that she is in a heavy contemplation, as she picks up her coffee cup from the table and sips it slowly.

"I'm not happy about what you've done," her voice finally sounds. I get the inexcusable urge to interrupt her one more time, but refrain from doing so in the hopes it will increase her chances of giving my preferred answer. "But you seem to want this a lot," she continues. "I'll need to suss him out over the next few days. He can stay."

My mouth erupts into a commendably huge smile as I squeal heavily and engulf her in a hug. "Ooh, thank you, mom. I love you!"

"Alright steady on, honey. Go and make sure he's settled in. And tell him he should come down for dinner at seven-thirty.

"Okay," I say, and I head up the stairs, and turn into the direction of his room. The door is slightly shut and nothing but silence can be heard from the other side. I knock on the door slightly, opening it at the same time.

"It's your house," I hear, as the door pushes open completely and the view of him sitting on his bed, with his head hung low fills my vision.

"It's yours now too," I voice, hoping to get a smile from him. Instead, he rises his head up slowly and looks at me intensely.

"I thought you said your mom was okay with it."

I pause in my tracks, and look at the floor.

"So you lied," he continues, and stands up, heading towards my direction of the door. "I have to go."

My body suddenly descends into a frenzy of panic, and I walk inside the room completely, closing the door behind me. "No, don't go. Please."

"I can't stay in a house unwanted by the person who pays the rent. And you lied to me."

"Look... I'm sorry I lied to you, okay? But I had to get you here some way, and I knew if I told you my mom was sceptical about it you would say no."

"You were right," he announces, as he attempts to move forward but I gently push against his chest.

"Yes, but... It's not that she has a problem with it. She's just wary. You're a stranger coming to live in her house, anybody would be wary."

"A homeless stranger. Because she thinks I'm going to steal some money."

"Then prove to her that you're not like that. You're here now, there's no point in you leaving. Even if it's just for a couple of days, stay."

He looks ahead behind me, his eyes stuck in a state of fixation, hidden behind a facade, just like him. "Fine," he eventually comments.

"Thank you," I breathe satisfactorily. "Okay, um... I'm going to leave you to get settled. Actually I'll get you a fresh set of bedsheets, and some clothes."

"Clothes?" He sits down on the bed, almost reluctantly, as if he feels like I would scold him.

"Yeah," I reply nonchalantly, before I notice the look on his face. I can tell that he's wondering if I'm going to be giving him a bunch of tight female sweaters and jeans. "Um, well this is awkward," I laugh. "My ex boyfriend stayed over a lot and left over a bunch of his hoodies, sweatshirts and jogger bottoms. I never gave them back to him."

"Yeah, that is awkward," his words come out followed quietly, and we both stifle a quiet laugh. "Is there any chance of him coming back to get them?"

"Not a single one. He's studying at a college hours away at the moment."

"Oh. Is that why you broke up?"

"Long distance life is not all it's cracked up to be," I reflect vaguely, a wave of nostalgia splashing over me. "I'll go get those things and be right back."

As I leave the room, I hear his voice pull me back.

"By the way... Theo. That's my name."

At the sound of that, a sense of accomplishment rushes through my body. I feel like I am slowly unlocking this boy into the person he may have been before he became homeless. And that person seems too interesting to just go amiss.

"Eliza. That's mine."

"I know. I heard your mom call you that."

"Were you eavesdropping on our conversation, by the way?"

"Sorry but... I had a feeling your mom wasn't completely happy about it by the way she was acting. I had to just find out for myself."

I nod. "Okay, I'll be right back."

He nods slightly, before turning to the bed and smoothing his fingers over it. It's like he sees it as a work of art. A piece of beauty that he unknowingly yearned for. I quickly walk on silently, knowing that if he sees me watching him he would probably be embarrassed.

Theo

I run my hands over the bed. It feels so soft it practically melts between my fingertips. I look around the room in admiration and awe, my eyes falling on the golden oak laminated flooring. It looks like it been recently fitted; not even so much as a crumb taints its appearance. My eyes lift up to the crystallized chandelier that dangles below the clear beige wall- it's not even on but I can feel the cool illumination from it penetrating peacefully into my soul.

Maybe it's hope's incarnation.

I can tell however, that when it is on, it compliments perfectly with the white framed peach flower pictures that hang above the wall behind me.

My mesmerization of this room confounds me.

I know that it is something I can't do in front of her. Eliza. I don't want to seem too grateful for this opportunity. If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's to never get too comfortable, because that comfort can be snatched from you in an instant.

I stand and move to the window, admiring the view outside. A weird feeling encompasses me and travels through my body, at finally being in the warmth, and my former home being just a few minutes away.

At that thought, I begin to pay attention to a smell that has been invading my nose for months. I know exactly where the smell is coming from. "You don't mind gray do you?" I hear, which immediately snaps me out of my intense thoughts. I spin around instantly, a look of guilt on my face. I can tell Eliza is confused.

"Um, sorry, was I... Interrupting something?"

"No." My voice delivers as a shaky husky hum.

"Oh. Well um, he's got a lot of gray sweaters and sweats, I hope you don't mind."

"No, gray's fine," I say, as she puts the clothes on my bed. At her feet lies a basket, at which she takes some sheets out of.

"Got you some fresh sheets."

"Thanks."

"Do you want me to help you lay the bed?"

"Um, no I'm fine. Um, I actually have something to ask."

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me I smell?"

"What?"

"You don't have to pretend. I've smelt like this for a while. It's easier to ignore it when there's so many other stenches in the air."

"Look, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"Yeah, I do. But um... Can I... The shower... I want to um..." I stop, embarrassment rushing through my body.

"It's your room now, Theo. Of course you can use the shower."

"Okay, well um..." I look at her awkwardly, before slightly tugging at the bottom of my sweater.

"Oh, right, yeah. Um... Enjoy your shower. And dinner at seven-thirty."

"Thanks. And um, thanks Eliza... For the clothes and sheets."

"No problem. My room's just at the end of the corridor if you need anything."

"I'll bear that in mind," I respond as I watch the door shut behind her. Once I hear the click, I look down at my mud ridden sweater and jeans. I tenderly remove my sweater and throw it on the floor, and begin analysing the body I haven't seen in a while. Scars mount my chest, stomach and arms, causing a sick feeling to rise up to my throat.

I decide to stop staring at them and reminding myself of some of the most helpless times of my life. I open the door to the shower room, walking in and instantly becoming curiously dumbfounded as to how big it is. The large sink sits against gray granite tiles, with a mirror hanging proudly above. The left side of it is filled with a large shower protected by golden glass that I can imagine won't crack easily; and a rack of smooth, white towels stand next to it. Straight ahead of the room lies a gray themed bathtub, that automatically cleanses me itself.

I internally argue with myself about which approach I should take. I know a shower is quick and effective in washing the dirt away, but a bath would give me relaxation and comfort - two words that haven't processed through my brain, or life in a long time.

I eventually decide on the shower. If there is one thing I want more than to have a good night's sleep, it's to have all the dirt that has become accustomed to my skin in the past few months finally be washed away.

I twist the lock of the glass door to the shower, opening it and stepping inside. My sense of direction is immediately obscured by the buttons and switches of the cubicle. I glide to the right side where the shower head is, surrounded by a number of buttons, but nothing comes out when I click each button one by one and hold the shower head.

I head over to the other side that has no shower head, but press each button and tap each switch one by one, however no sound of water escapes from the shower head at this action either.

I feel my patience running low and my anger rising. If this was my own house I would smash every single piece of glass into oblivion without a second thought. But it's not my house. If I did that here, I would be thrown out in a second. I want to at least make it through a night here.

I hop out of the shower cubicle and out of the room. For a few seconds I stand in "my" bedroom, before plucking up the confidence to do the one thing I really hoped I didn't have to do. Especially not on the first night.