Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,11

done. You should probably get cleaned up or whatever you need to do." He motions towards the small bathroom beside the kitchen before he steps back to the stove.

The door is already partially open. It gives a short squeak as I push it open further and pause. The apartment is barely lit so the bathroom, lacking in any windows at all, is black. My throat pinches shut at the sight. I glance back to Brandon who has his back turned to me.

"Uhm," I clear my throat softly, prepping for the stupidity of my next statement. "It's dark."

Brandon puts batter down on the hot pan before he turns a bit to look at me out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, you're just going to have to make do. It's fine. There aren't any monsters in there, I promise."

My cheeks flush. I touch a cheek with the cool fingers of one hand and step back to the bathroom. The sink is right in front of the door, so I stand at it with a foot holding the bathroom door against the wall to let in what little bit of light there is. I wipe down my face with my wet fingers while trying to ignore the darkness sitting in the corner of my eye. Not having a towel to dry my face, I let it air dry and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Without light there isn't much to see, but still I'm surprised at the dark circles under my eyes. My face just doesn't look right. Paler in some places and darker in others, I almost don't recognize myself.

I turn away from the mirror and step back out with the spaces between my fingers still moist.

In the main room, Brandon's already put a small stack of pancakes down at the breakfast table. There are some freshly chopped fruits and some cheese on the two plates sitting at the table. It's not exactly like breakfast at home with Mom but it still makes my stomach twist at the simple familiarity of it. I pause, frozen in spot by a pain from not one specific memory but every memory all at once.

Brandon steps out from behind the kitchen counter with a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

He can probably read it all over my face. Still I try and cover it up with a nod as I give myself some time to shove things down. "Yeah."

For a moment, it looks as if he'll call me out on it, but he doesn't. Instead he goes back to the counter and pours us two small glasses of water from the water jug which he then brings over to the table.

We both sit down at the small table. He takes a couple of pancakes and some pieces of fruit. "I don't really know what you'd eat."

"It's fine. We used to eat pancakes all the time." When my answer seems to satisfy him, allowing him to dive into his own pancakes, I get a burst of bravery. "So, uh, what do you put on them?"

When he turns to me with his brows raised, his mouth full of pancake, my whole head turns red in embarrassment. "What?"

"At home, we have syrup with pancakes. And sometimes butter."

I'm not sure what he thinks. Brandon gives a laugh before slicing into his pancake again with a shake of his head. "Syrup? I dunno. Butter we can get, but I don't use it that often. Don't want it to go bad."

My head is still hot as I cut into my pancake with the side of my fork.

We don't say much else, and in a way I'm thankful for it. I don't really think I'm capable of holding a real conversation right now. Brandon eats his meal in quick bites just like any regular guy. When he's finished, he stands up and picks up his plate and the empty pancake plate. "I have to head out for training. I'm already almost late. Do you think you can get the dishes for me?"

His back is to me as he puts the plates in the sink. Across his broad back the fabric of his shirt is stretched thin, and I can see the darkness of the tattoo. It's not small like some of the others I saw yesterday, and though I can't see its detail, I guess that it's about the same size as the tattoo Grey Eyes had.

Brandon turns around and glances at me, waiting for an answer. I nod,