Part Eleven

As Clayton reached for the scissors again, Oren reeled back in terror. His hand instinctively jerked away from Clayton's arm, only to be kept stationary by the vine that twisted around the limb. "C-Clayton-- please don't do that again, I promise I won't-"

Clayton's eyes darted up to Oren's. "Shh. Just trust me."

Clayton cautiously opened the blades, using one to pry it from his arm. The blades never closed to snip the plant free. Oren sat there in fear, eyebrows drawn as his eyes darted from the blades to Clayton's strenuous facial expression.

The elf winced as the scissors were removed from grazing the plant. Once Oren's hand was free from Clayton's arm, the vine slowly shrunk in length, but not fully gone. It swayed upright and twisted, almost as if it were waving at Clayton.

"I'm sorry." repeated Oren. Clayton tilted his head and laughed softly, crinkles densing at the corner of his eyes.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. We're just gonna have to figure out how to control that stuff."

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When Clayton began to lace up his boots and throw on his jacket, Oren grew chary. The blond leaned over and grabbed a leather travel bag that hung on the right headboard pole of his bed. As he slung it around his shoulder, the contents inside clattered and jiggled, eliciting a baffled look from Oren.

"Uh.. Where are you going?" Oren asked, voice weak as he eyed Clayton's wear. He wore a grey striped sweater that began to slip down his shoulder. His thick glasses complimented the lazy beanie that sat over his head of straight blond hair. His jeans were ripped at the knees and his army boots were the thing to top it all off. His attire looked casual and rather sloppy; but a nice kind of sloppy.

Clayton turned to Oren, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Going to school. I'll be back at seven." The elf froze. Seven? As in... the evening? Oren's jaw locked and his teeth grinded nervously.

"Why do you get back so late?" the question slipped like water from Oren's hands. He wasn't used to Clayton leaving him home alone with his mother. After opening the leather bag and checking everything inside, Clayton looked back up to the elf and closed the bag. He strolled towards Oren, who was laying in his bed with a drying wash cloth rested over his warm forehead.

"Just the schedule I guess." he leaned over as he spoke, pressing a hand to Oren's shoulder. "It's only four hours. Let's see, it's three so-- yeah, four hours." He leaned down, breath now ghosting over Oren's ear. "Take care while I'm gone, kay?"

Oren scrunched his shoulders up to prevent the shiver crawling up his spine. "Okay." he replied.

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The four hours were stressful for Oren. Without Clayton there to talk to him, he felt lonely as he laid in bed with the same wash cloth draped over his forehead. For the first hour, the elf distracted himself with watching Clayton's TV. Then, he grew bored. He raised a hand into the air as he thought, palm open as his hand faced the ceiling.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. 'I have to get this under control. If not, this could get dangerous.'  With a gentle wave, the elf felt his hand begin to prickle with an all-too-familiar searing burn. He opened his eyes to look at the hand to see a small torrent of ivy crawling down his wrist and weaving around his fingers. In bewilderment, Oren twisted his hand around so he could see his palm. The plant was sprouting from the direct center of his hand, which he found mildly disturbing.

His eyes drooped shut again as he imagined the plant disappearing somehow. He concentrated, thinking of some way the ivy can leave. Then, he felt the plant retract from his wrist, sliding back up to his hand gently.

The vines that wrapped around his fingers loosened up and centered back in on his palm. With a grunt, Oren snapped open his eyes to see nothing sprouting from his hand.. His palm was clean, and the skin was unhindered by the rupture of the plant.

He gave his hand a weird stare before turning on his side. The wash cloth fell from his forehead, but he didn't mind. Besides, his fever had already dissipated into nothing by now. He was sure the wash cloth had done enough for the day. He still couldn't come to the fact that plants can grow from inside of him. He wasn't used to it, and he didn't think he'll ever be.

His head filled with foggy thoughts as his vision grew dim. He sank into the pillow and sniffed the fabric of it. The same smell of Clayton wafted into his nose as he nearly melted into the bed.

His eyes closed and soon his hand had traveled over his chest, down his ribs and over his abdomen. With trembling fingers and a hefty blush of green at his cheeks, he reached farther down and huffed into the pillow. His hips itched to roll forward at the sensation in his shorts.

His toes curled.

'There's something wrong with me.'

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When Clayton came home, he greeted Ava at the door and enveloped her shorter figure in a bear hug. "How's Oren?" he asked as he pulled way from their embrace. Ava looked up at her son, her gleeful expression now dropping as she pursed her lips.

"Actually, he hasn't come down at all today. Maybe you should check on him."

Clayton went still for a long moment and before rushing off, he kissed his mother on the cheek. He swiveled to the right on his heel and dashed up the set of stairs, his bag swinging with every step he took.

He opened the door to his bedroom after turning to the hallway. With shoulders slack and a breath escaping his lips, he found the sleeping elf, half in the covers as the sheets draped onto the floor. His back was turned to Clayton was he faced the wall.

"Asleep, are you. Not a surprise." he muttered with a chuckle. He dropped his bag and quietly shut the door behind him. He was oblivious.

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Thanks for reading Part Eleven!