Athena
I am usually a sure person.
I know what I want, and I know what I need. I tell people about it, address the situation, then boom, I'm as satisfied as a pug given an apple for a snack.
It's just him that makes me question everything.
We have been working on my paper for the past four hours now, and still, no one has come to our rescue with the whole locked door situation. Our work was entirely civil. I talked, he typed, and yet, I can't help but watch him.
Owen.
His focus was unwavering, and not once did he check his phone or even turn to look at me and actually have a decent conversation.
And so I watched him.
I watched how his fingers danced on my keyboard, as if they're twin blades in sync with every word I spoke. His eyes were shooting directly at my screen, with his face illuminated slightly by the light emitted from my laptop. His posture was a bit hunched from typing, and his wavy locks kept going in the way of his vision, to which he always combed back with a hand but a strand always kept coming back in front.
He was a busy little bee, and exhaustion was obviously surrounding his whole aura.
It had already been hours since we started, and night had finally dawned upon us.
I was starting to get tired from this whole talking thing and Owen was too, although he won't admit it or even ask for a short break.
I experimented. I stopped talking, and almost immediately, Owen turned his head toward me, that one wavy strand over his forehead bouncing a bit as he moved.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked.
I stared at him for a while, and I had a feeling it lingered a little longer than usual, since he seemed a bit flustered, causing him to look away.
I chuckled a bit.
He's still adorable, I see.
"No. Nothing's wrong. I just thought we might need a break, that's all. We're almost done with the entire paper and I could finish it up for the rest of the week. A break sounds really tempting." I told him.
Owen had a hesitant look on his face, his dark brows scrunched and his lips were almost to a pout.
He wants to finish it.
"If you're almost done, we could still try to finish. So you could do other things and all." he mumbled, avoiding my eye.
Yep, he does want to finish it.
I gave him a small smile and at that, Owen's cheeks reddened a bit and he looked bashful all over again. I tried not to mind it.
"Owen, I can do this. I'll finish it up over the next few days and you, stop forcing yourself to finish it. It's not your paper. It's mine. And we could both need some rest after this." I said, fixing my posture against the hard, cold walls I was leaning on.
Owen had an uncertain look on his face as he saved the document we had been working on for hours, and unwillingly, shut down my laptop.
"Of course. Rest." he muttered, as he carefully handed me back my laptop.
I gratefully took it from him, and with a hand, I cautiously shoved it back in my bag.
After I fixed my stuff, Owen and I have nothing left to talk about.
I can't just strike a conversation with him about the weather or how his day was. I can't even tell him how Fitz sometimes leaves his underwear around our small, Pringle-smelling room, and I definitely can't tell Owen how I missed his calming cleanliness when it comes to his things when we used to be roommates.
Certainly not that.
"Do you have classes tomorrow?" I blurted.
The awkwardness between us was so uncomfortable. To think that I used to share almost everything with him was weird, and I itched for how we used to discuss things, argue about something, then make up over food or Netflix.
It was simple back then.
Owen looked at me again, and I can sense him mustering up all his confidence as he sat straighter beside me; inches taller even. I looked up at him.
"Fortunately, no. You?" he finally answered.
I shook my head, watching that one wavy strand over his forehead bounce as he turned.
"I don't have classes either." I admitted.
I didn't know why I asked Owen if he had classes tomorrow or not. I still remember his schedule.
Owen and I were both silent again, but I feel the heat of his body pulsing from him, signifying that we were close enough to touch.
As much as I want to, as much as I'm ready for everything to be normal again with him, I don't want to force him into anything.
We just sat there on the floor, backs to the wall, eyes ahead of us.
I have so much things to tell him, so much drabbles and random stories I picked up from the other kids who went to school. But instead of overwhelming the guy out, I remained silent, same as he.
With a quick side eye, I watched Owen fidget with his hands. He kept wringing and cracking his fingers, his gloves already discarded to his side.
He's anxious.
I don't want things between us get all weird just because we broke up.
"Owen?" I started, looking at his side profile that resembled one of a Greek god.
"Hmm?" he said, turning to me, his eyes still as mesmerizing as when I first saw them up close.
I cleared my throat and looked away for a while.
I want to break the ice. Seal the wound. Stitch the damage.
"We never got to talk, didn't we?" I muttered, loud enough for him to hear.
It was time, and I don't think we would ever get a chance like this if we pretend the other doesn't exist every time we see each other. I care about him a lot, and I don't want what we had previously become a whole shitshow.
"Talk? About what?" he finally asked, looking innocently confused.
I shrugged and shot him a serious look.
"You know, what happened. With Maya. Elliot. Us." I said.
Owen's innocent expression immediately darkened, and he was quiet. He was quiet for a bit, and it was obvious a dozen thoughts were running around his head. I only wish I knew what they were.
"I didn't want to break up with you in the first place." he muttered.
As expected.
"I know, Owen. I know." I said in agreement.
He said it before we broke things off.
It was for our own good.
We both needed to find ourselves. Owen needed time to take in the harsh reality of college things, including that unforgivable one night stand with Maya and his battles with his thoughts. I needed time to forgive Elliot, get my head straight, and find out who I am without a guy to base my decisions off.
I made that mistake when choosing universities, and I will never do something that significant and major just to be near a guy you aren't even sure you'll end up with.
"It's just, college can be demanding. We didn't have time for each other. And, --things happened." Owen silently admitted as he lowered his head and slumped down.
I had always been there, you dimwit, I thought.
Without even thinking, I laid my good hand over his shoulder and gently massaged it. It was the only solace IÂ could offer him now. He flinched at first, but he later began to relax.
"We could've talked things over. Shared our worries and doubts, and just stay til 6am doing reqs and stuff. You could've told me everything, and I would be there for you. Whatever happens." I told him.
Owen slowly raised his head at me, his dark hair all messy and all over his forehead. Behind them, his eyes looked sad, and he seemed conflicted.
"I didn't want to bother you. You were happy with where you are, and I,-- I was a wreck. Being me, you always have to exert much more effort than any regular person would do with college. I failed at that. I spiraled down, Athena. I don't want someone like me make you feel bad about your choices." he said, putting my hand down from his shoulder, placing it back onto my lap.
I looked at him disbelievingly.
"I never felt bad about you." I muttered.
He stared at me, and I felt the slightest rush of adrenaline pulse through my veins, realizing I need something to follow up.
"I mean, I certainly did have my moments, but, I found a way. College is a pain in the ass, yes, but I could've helped you. We all need someone to help us along the way. Weirdly, Elliot was one of the people who helped me. Somehow, you did too." I said, shrugging.
Owen managed to smile a little, that crooked little smile of his. I missed that.
"Elliot. Weirdly, I still don't like him." he admitted.
I snorted, although I didn't mean to.
Was I allowed to?
"I know. He told me the first words you ever said to him when you were both at the hospital was 'I still don't like you.'" I told him.
That managed a small chuckle out of him.
God, was it sexy.
"Sorry." he said.
I sighed.
"You don't have to apologize. I mean, you know I hated him too but, he's good now. Really good." I said as I nodded at him.
It was too good to be true. Elliot being nicer and more sensitive and stuff was totally unlike his usual entitled prick demeanor. It was a whole new side of him. Like a limited edition character unlocked in games.
If there's one thing Owen breaking up with me did right, it was making Elliot become more aware and sensitive around people. Around me. He listens now. I'm proud he's gotten this far.
"I'm glad you found peace with him." Owen finally said, after a short period of him making weird, uncertain expressions about how Elliot's one of the good guys now.
Just watching him scrunch his nose and furrow his brows was plain humorous, and I choked out a quick laugh.
"You talk like Elliot died or something. You know he can still beat your ass with my permission." I said knowingly.
That, I was certain he would gladly do.
"I'll leave the country then." Owen said with a shrug, a tight, forced smile growing on his face.
I chuckled and looked at him as he shyly looked away and pulled back his hair. It always bounces back in front, much to his annoyance.
"I miss this." I admitted.
I didn't mean for it to slip. Well, I do miss the times we spent doing whatever, but--
"Me too." He muttered, a sly smile forming on his face.
My heart seemed to skip a beat.
Wait, no, erase that.
It didn't skip any beat at all. It just, stopped.
I mean, I'm not dead yet, thank god, but like,
HOLY FUCK--
"Owen, tell me a story." I asked, in attempt to erase that small rush of euphoria that coarsed through me just moments ago. Although I think I came off a bit too demanding when I asked him to tell me a story.
I just want his attention to not linger on how hot my face is and how red I am.
Where's a blackout when you need one?
"What?" Owen stammered, blinking at me.
"Tell me, a story. Anything." I continued.
Owen raised a brow at me and for a moment, he seemed almost as comfortable as he had been when we didn't, you know, fell out of things.
"Fictional?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.
I shook my head.
"No. Something real. Something about you." I said.
I didn't mean for it to go this deep. What started as an excuse to stop him from seeing me turn into a tomato became something more. And I was surprised I found myself wanting to actually hear something from him.
I missed him.
"If you insist, then sure. I will." Owen finally said, a few moments after I think my face turned back to it's usual shade.
Owen cleared his throat, turned to look at me for a moment, before he looked away and toward a random stack of paper right in front of us.
"I never liked people." He started.
That got a smile out of me.
"I know." I said.
What he threw me was a heartstopping grin, one that made my chest elate with so much giddiness, I only wished he didn't notice how big my smile was getting.
Owen stopped for a moment to look at me, and he immediately reddened for the nth time as we looked at each other, big grins and all. It was as if the world stopped, time stopped, everything stopped. It was just me and him. Him and me.
Both on some cold, news room floor locked in school grounds with no one else, but us.
I kinda wished he didn't break eye contact after a few seconds.
"Ever since I was young, people always made me feel uncomfortable and awkward. Aunts and grandmas you barely know come and give you hugs, though you didn't ask for one. Uncles and grandfathers always talk too much, and as a kid, you always never know what the hell they're talking about." He said with a shrug.
I don't have anything else to say.
It was a part of his story, and I just nodded along.
"So a few months after the accident, I was still mostly in the hospital. I stayed there for a while." Owen continued.
He never told this part of his childhood to me.
I remember bits of him telling me how he feared for his sister more than he feared the aftermath of his accident. He told me how he got his childhood stuffed dragon, Eragon, from his mom who gave it to him after it happened. He told me how hospital food was shit.
I didn't know how long he was stuck there. And I could only think of how his train of thought ran when he was in the waiting area with Elliot back at the hospital when I broke my arm.
So I stayed quiet and for what seemed like the longest time, I listened.
"You know how children's hospitals have this certain room where all kids can play? My mum always forced me to go there to make friends but, to cut the story short, the nurses were my friends." He said, a ghost of a smile on his face.
He seemed a bit amused at himself, smiling and not smiling from time to time as his gaze seemed a bit thrown off from reality.
"Why?" I asked.
With that, Owen finally turned his head to look at me. We didn't say anything for a while, but he broke the awkward silence with him shuffling a bit in his seat to look at me better.
"Let's say I was terrible at trying to initiate conversation. I don't know sign language to make friends with the deaf kids, the amputees think I'm boring, and the sick kids think I'm weird for reading the Wimpy Kid books." He said, slightly narrowing his eyes as flashbacks seemed to run around his head.
I tried my hardest to picture the scene.
A kid version of Owen with his head buried deep into a book popped into my head, and kids playing with toy swords, or building Legos were all avoiding him. I mean, my younger version would probably annoy the hell out of his younger version the same way I kinda annoyed him when we met but, I would definitely play with the other kids and leave him alone if he keeps his business to himself.
But knowing him, he doesn't seem like the type to approach people to make friends with. And from there, I started to get curious.
"You didn't actually try to make friends, didn't you?" I said, almost deadpan.
"Bingo." He said, grinning.
Damn, it's that smile again. That annoying, horrid, adorable smile of his.
"I had always been in one of those brick tables, and instead of playing with Legos, I was reading. Well, the part about the deaf kids was certainly not an assumption, since this one girl was reading Dork Diaries right in front of me." he said.
I raised a brow at him and shot him a playful look, the corners of my mouth quivering upward into a smile.
"A reader. So did you kiss?" I asked.
Owen's eyes widened a bit in surprise, and he choked out a brisk laugh.
I would do anything to hear that laugh more often these days.
"Why would children even kiss? Besides, we didn't even become friends. I don't know ASL and my handwriting back then was terrible. Even if I tried, I couldn't hold a decent conversation with people." he admitted, shrugging.
I nodded.
I heard Owen sigh as he relaxed his posture and leaned back onto the same hard wall I had my back at. This was nice. Really nice.
For a fact, I realized how many stories I haven't heard from him. Before, I had always been the one to tell him stuff; whispering my fears at night when I can't sleep, telling him how amazing my parents were, and how bummed I was that I need to earn money to get to travel out of the country just to see them personally again.
He was a listener, and with him being the one to talk now made me realize how valuable stories are. How valuable mere communication is.
A relationship can't go in a single direction. It goes both ways.
And I had a feeling in my gut, telling me that what we had before wasn't enough, even for the both of us.
I was so deep in my thoughts, I hadn't realized I had been uncomfortably quiet. Owen had been staring at me for god knows how long, and I turned my head to stare back at him.
I took in his features, and memorized them in my head. His dark, wavy hair always in need of a little trim were always down on his forehead, some even shielding his field of vision. His eyes, like before, were a light shade of blue, almost icy if someone would give it a feeling. His thin nose was dotted with a few freckles, only seen once you get real close to him. And his lips, god his lips, they were a bit chapped, but they were full and had a slight pinkish tone. Almost too kissable.
He was a masterpiece. An imitation of an intricate ancient statue.
Who was I to deserve him? All of him?
"You know, out of all the people I've met, you are one of the rare ones I have no problem sharing things with." he suddenly whispered, his eyes still locked on mine.
Even a whisper of his voice was rich and audibly smooth. It melts like butter on toast, cream cheese on bagel. He spoke with an accent that, to this day, I still find incredibly sexy.
"Owen," I could only mutter.
"People can be harsh, but you aren't like them. You're kind, caring, and thoughtful, above many other things. That's why I like you." He said, looking at me, now with a soft smile on his face.
All of the sudden, something in me sparked. It was not that destructive kind of spark that leads to terrible things. It was a gentle one.
One that offers warmth and care, above all the other things I could possibly wish for.
I smiled at him, and I held my breath as I took the risk to close the gap between us. Now, the awkward distance was gone. I felt the heat of his body pulse through me, even if it had just been our sides touching. He looked surprisingly fine with it.
At that, we became silent once more, but instead of dreading conversation, we indulged in the calm quiet of the night.
We had both been tired from the day, and it became pretty obvious once Owen yawned and blinked away his exhaustion.
"Tired?" I asked.
"A little. But I think I can stay awake until someone gets us out." he admitted.
I looked at him sternly and poked his side. He flinched and looked at me.
"Owen, you need to sleep." I said.
He shook his head.
"I can't just yet. How about you? You're the one with a broken arm. You should be the one to rest first, not me." he explained, although I can't quite seem to get his thinking.
I have a temporary injury, he has something more, permanent. Between us, Owen should be the one getting sleep first. He already does so much just for people to see eye to eye with him. If high school still allows us to sleep a lot, college kinda demands you to stay awake. He needs to not stay awake. We both do.
"Don't be ridiculous. You need rest too. You've been hacking for hours on my laptop, and I heard your classes are pretty hard." I said.
Owen looked exhausted; tired, but skeptical. He was quiet for a moment, but it was not too soon before he sighed and turned to me.
"Fine. I'll sleep then. But are you sure you're alright with sleeping upright? I could lend you a jacket to sleep on, so you could lay down." he said, offering a maroon hoodie he pulled from his backpack slung over his chair inches away from him.
I shook my head.
"No thanks. I'm good." I said.
Owen looked a little defeated, but he took it with a grain of salt and only nodded.
We were both tired.
I felt my body give in, and I adjusted my seat on the floor, yawning a bit too. My eyelids felt heavy, and before I could go, I turned to Owen and found him already looking at me, sleep already in his eyes.
"Good night, Owen." I muttered, offering him a parting smile.
At that, he grinned a little, shuffling bit in his seat as he grabbed his hoodie, and threw it over us. Before I could tell him I don't need it, he gave me a kind look that seemed to tell me that I shouldn't bother trying to get rid of it.
"Sleep well, Athena." he finally said before his eyes closed, his long lashes fluttering a bit before he slept.
That was fast.
He must be really tired.
I was tired too, but I couldn't help but watch him sleep.
His breathing was calm, and he seemed better around me now than a few hours ago, when we were both clueless and awkward around each other.
Owen's head was lolling to his side now, until it fell lower over to my shoulder.
I felt something spark in me again, and it fet good. Extremely good.
His hair was all fuzzy and soft, tickling my ear, although I didn't want to move or remove his head on my shoulder since he's tired and all. So I let him be.
Noticing his long fingers from under our shared hoodie blanket, I suddenly felt something tug at my brain and tell me to do something with it. I stared at it for a bit and analyzed the smaller details of his hands.
His hands didn't don his usual fingerless gloves anymore. They were naked, a bit calloused at some parts, and his fingers were long and thin. They even had a few burns from what I was guessing could either be from his lab works or from the dorm microwave.
I want to hold his hand so much, but I don't know if I could.
Slowly raising my good hand, I wanted to try something. I wanted to see if that spark within me was telling me something, and I hoped that it was good.
I cautiously removed the gap between his hand and mine, first tracing my fingers along the tips of his own, drawing circles around them. It was only moments before I slowly slipped my hand into his, lacing my fingers ever so gingerly.
A sudden burst of what might have been fireworks sparked within me, and I smiled at that.
Owen moved a bit in his sleep, his head burying deeper into my shoulder. I held my breath as he squirmed, fearing he would wake up and notice how I held his hand.
Instead, I was the one left in surprise noticing how he laced his own fingers around mine, squeezing my hand gently.
He held my hand back.
That was enough to guarantee me a good night's sleep.