the summer - part 2

33 - 34

Ezer's fingers stilled as he watched the stranger's hand, waiting for a grimace or a hiss through clenched teeth. Yet, there was none—only minor twitches, involuntary betrayals of muscles below the surface. The tall figure remained as stoic as marble, enduring the ministrations with a hardened resolve that left Ezer wondering if his touch was as fleeting and inconsequential as the breeze.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he couldn't help but ask, though the question hung in the air unanswered, dissolving into the backdrop of their peculiar intimacy.

The silence stretched between them until it was broken by the stranger's movement. With an unexpected grace, he lifted his uninjured hand towards the makeshift knot atop his bandage. The butterfly swayed gently, its fabric wings fluttering clumsily at the prod of a curious finger.

"Hey, don't," Ezer said, his voice laced with a mild reprimand, though the edge softened by the intrigue in his eyes. He reached out to still the other's hand, but instead found himself faltering, his balance wavering like a candle flame in the wind.

Without a word, he leaned in, his palm resting against the cool leather jacket that draped the stranger's frame. His own breath hitched, betraying a fatigue he hadn't acknowledged, even to himself. The solid form beneath him offered an unexpected reprieve—a momentary anchor in the midst of chaos.

The stranger seemed unperturbed by the sudden closeness, the intrusion into his personal space. He merely paused, his gaze briefly connecting with Ezer's—a silent acknowledgment passing between them before he resumed his gentle prodding at the bandage's whimsical adornment.

35 - 36

The world seemed to swim before Ezer's eyes, the edges of his vision blurring as if dipped in water. Heat crept up his neck, a tangible weight that pressed down on him with an unrelenting force. He swayed slightly on the spot, the stack of books in his arms suddenly feeling as heavy as lead.

"Whoa," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. The act of standing upright was becoming a task, each second an effort to keep from crumpling to the ground.

A firm touch on his shoulder startled him, dragging him back from the brink of unconsciousness. It was the stranger, his presence a steady reality amidst the haze. The hand was warm on Ezer's skin, anchoring him with an unexpected gentleness. "I'll take you home," the person said, voice as cool as the shadows that danced just out of reach.

Ezer blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The words registered sluggishly, and he had to fight the urge to lean further into the comfort offered. "Home?" His voice cracked, a testament to his disoriented state.

"You look like you're going to pass out," came the flat response, devoid of any inflection that might suggest concern. It was a simple statement of fact, delivered with an air of detachment that somehow didn't match the concern implicit in the gesture of support.

Ezer wanted to protest, to insist he was fine, but the ground beneath him felt tenuous, unreliable. He swallowed hard, the parched sensation in his throat reminding him of his body's need for respite. With a nod, more acquiescence than agreement, he allowed the stranger—Jay—to guide him away from the unforgiving sun and toward a semblance of stability.

37 - 38

Gathering what was left of his strength, Ezer pushed himself away from Jay's supportive hold. His balance wavered for a moment before he found his footing. "Huh," he murmured absently, as though the word were a lifebuoy thrown into the confusion of his thoughts. He straightened up, brushing off the sense of vulnerability that clung to him like an unwanted shroud. 

His gaze flickered around, seeking something familiar to anchor him in reality. "I need to check the Map, I still have to carry my books," he mumbled, more to himself than to Jay. The scattered array of textbooks and notes seemed to spread out before him like a physical manifestation of his disheveled state of mind. 

Jay's cool eyes followed Ezer's gaze, taking in the heavy burden with an unreadable expression. There was a slight tilt of his head, a silent communication that needed no words, as he gestured towards the pile of books. It wasn't just the offer to help that surprised Ezer; it was the ease with which Jay seemed ready to shoulder someone else's load, despite their brief and bizarre interaction.

39 - 40

Ezer hesitated, his gaze riveted on the bandaged arm extended towards the haphazard mound of textbooks. "But your hand..." he began, the protest dying in his throat. The lingering discomfort from his near-faint spell had not dulled his concern for the stranger's apparent injury.

The white-haired teenager merely offered a half-shrug, as if to dismiss Ezer's worries without need for verbal reassurance. Then, with a casual ease that betrayed no hint of discomfort or strain, he slipped his good hand beneath the stack. Sinew and bone moved subtly under pale skin as, defying expectation, the entire collection rose smoothly into the air, balanced effortlessly in Jay's grip.

For a heartbeat, Ezer watched, transfixed by the incongruity of the sight—fragile bandages against the strength that belied them, the lightness with which the burden was hoisted. It sparked an odd sense of dissonance within him; the world was tilting again, revealing an unexpected facet of this person who'd crossed his path by mere chance.

41 - 42

Ezer's mouth remained agape, his thoughts snagged on the inexplicable ease with which Jay handled the books. The warm air buzzed around them, thick with the scent of summer asphalt and a faint underlying tang of blood that lingered stubbornly in his senses.

He trailed behind Jay, their shadows merging and stretching on the sunbaked sidewalk. The heat seemed to press down upon Ezer, reminding him of his body's protests against the day's surprises and exertions. The world wobbled slightly as he walked, his vision swimming at the edges. 

The white tufts atop Jay's head danced with each gust of wind, a silent symphony of movement that contrasted sharply with the stillness of his demeanor. It was then, amidst the dizzying motion and the disquiet settling in his chest, that Ezer realized how little he knew of his unexpected companion.

"Hey," he managed to croak out, voice hoarse from the dry air and the remnants of sleep that still clung to him. Jay paused mid-stride, turning slightly, an unspoken invitation to speak. 

After a moment of hesitation, where Ezer's tongue felt too large for his mouth, he asked the question that had been prickling at the back of his mind since the oddity of their encounter began. "What's your name?" 

The words hung between them, carried away by the breeze, leaving Ezer anxiously awaiting an answer that would anchor him in the surreal whirlwind of the day's events.

43 - 44

The reply came as a murmur, almost lost to the bustle around them. "Jay."

Ezer blinked, taking in the single syllable that seemed to hold more weight than he had anticipated. He nodded, not sure what else to say, but feeling a sense of relief at having something concrete—a name—to associate with his enigmatic savior.

The bus arrived with a shuddering halt, its doors opening with a pneumatic hiss. The cool rush of air from within felt like a balm to Ezer's overheated skin. He shuffled forward, his movements sluggish, and climbed aboard, Jay following closely behind.

They found seats at the back of the near-empty vehicle, the familiar hum of the engine thrumming through the floorboards. Ezer sank into the worn fabric, grateful for the momentary respite from the sun's relentless glare. He glanced sideways at Jay, who sat with an unreadable expression, gaze fixed on the window, seemingly unbothered by the day's chaos.

Ezer's hand fumbled for his phone, the device slipping slightly in his clammy grasp. His thumb hovered over the Line app icon, hesitating before tapping it open. He scanned through his contacts, then turned to Jay, feeling an inexplicable pull to bridge the gap between them.

"Can I add you on Line?" he asked, voice steadier than he felt.

Jay's attention shifted, a slight nod his only response.

"Okay, just, um, type your ID here," Ezer said, extending the phone.

With a fluid motion that belied his earlier indifference, Jay took the offered device and keyed in his information. Ezer watched the characters appear on the screen—one simple action that somehow felt significant.

"Thanks," Ezer murmured as he reclaimed his phone.

"Sure," Jay replied, his tone even, giving nothing away.

Ezer's fingers danced across the screen, sending a quick friend request. It was done; a digital tether now connected them.

He leaned back against the seat, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The vibration of the moving bus and the low chatter of its few passengers lulled him into a drowsy half-awareness. The events of the day swirled in his mind, coalescing into a singular thought—he had made an unexpected connection, a new acquaintance named Jay.

45 - 46

Ezer's thumb paused mid-scroll, his gaze fixed on the name 'Jay' in his contacts list. He had been pondering over the impulse that drove him to care for Jay's wound, to add him as a contact. It was akin to the nurturing instinct he felt during labor class when they tended to the hatchlings—this need to ensure the well-being of something fragile, something he had a hand in mending.

The memory of the gash on Jay's arm flashed in his mind, and Ezer realized it wasn't just the injury he wanted to protect but the progress they had made together, however small. He felt responsible for the bandaged wound, almost proprietary in his concern.

Letting out a slow breath, Ezer recalled Jay's appearance: the sharpness in his eyes that could cut through pretense, the standoffish vibe he exuded like an invisible barrier. Yet, beneath that seemingly impenetrable exterior, there was a flicker of something else—perhaps not warmth, but not cold indifference either. Jay was like a puzzle, complex and intriguing, with pieces hidden beneath layers of self-preservation.

"Seems alright," Ezer whispered to himself, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The word resonated with a truth he felt but couldn't quite articulate. Jay may look aloof and a bit fierce, but there was an undercurrent of solidity about him, a silent assurance that, when needed, he could be relied upon. 

In the quiet of his room, surrounded by the comfort of familiar objects, Ezer allowed himself to feel a tentative thread of connection to this enigmatic person who had abruptly entered his life. It was unexpected, but perhaps that's what made it all the more compelling.

47 - 48

The morning light had barely begun to filter through the blinds when Ezer's alarm buzzed into life, jolting him from a dream he couldn't quite remember. With practiced movements, he silenced the alarm and swung his legs out of bed, feet finding the cool hardwood floor. It was the first day of summer break, but old habits died hard, and Ezer was up at six as if it were any other school day.

He shuffled to his desk, where his German books lay in an orderly stack, the spines lined up like soldiers standing at attention. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of pages as he flipped open the textbook to continue where he'd left off. For half an hour, he submerged himself in the complexities of the language, reciting verb conjugations under his breath, his voice a steady whisper in the dawn's tranquility.

Once finished with German, Ezer turned his attention to the review materials spread across his desk. Calculations and essays awaited him, each demanding a portion of his focus. With a meticulous hand, he penned three test papers, his mind churning through formulas and theories with the ease of long practice. By the time he set down his pen, the clock hands pointed to noon, and his stomach grumbled a reminder that he hadn't eaten since the previous evening.

The scent of home-cooked food wafted from the kitchen, and Ezer's mouth watered in anticipation. Aunt May, ever the culinary guardian angel, had prepared a meal for him. Walking into the dining area, he found dishes laid out on the table: steaming rice paired with vegetables and a protein that changed daily—today, it was grilled fish seasoned with herbs.

"Thank you, Aunt May," Ezer said with genuine gratitude as he took his seat. She wasn't really his aunt, just an old family friend who had become part of the household fabric over the years. With his parents often lost in their world of scientific research, Aunt May's presence was the closest thing to maternal care he knew. She was the one who made sure he ate well, who listened to his school stories, and who gently nudged him towards the balance of work and rest.

"Make sure you eat everything," Aunt May instructed with a fond smile, placing a glass of water by his plate. "You need your strength, especially now that you're on break and have more time to run around."

Ezer nodded, though both of them knew his version of 'running around' was more likely to involve libraries and laboratories than fields and sports courts. He filled his fork and brought the perfectly cooked fish to his mouth, savoring the blend of flavors. In these moments, with the familiar taste of Aunt May's cooking, he could almost forget the strangeness of yesterday's encounter and the uncharacteristic impulse that had led him to reach out to someone like Jay. Almost, but not quite.

49 - 50

Ezer's chopsticks paused midway to his mouth as his phone vibrated against the polished wood of the dining table, a stark contrast to the quiet hum of the air conditioner. He glanced at the screen, the characters on the notification blurring slightly before coming into focus. The group chat icon flashed with urgency, and he tapped it open with a resigned curiosity.

"Strict inspection this week," the message from the summer camp coordinator read. "Please continue your studies at home and await further updates." It was an impersonal reminder that their structured world of academia had been momentarily upended.

He chewed thoughtfully on the tender greens Aunt May had prepared, scrolling through the flurry of messages that followed the announcement. His peers were sharing their thoughts on the sudden change, their texts a mix of excitement and anxiety over unscheduled freedom. Some proposed meet-ups in local study cafes, others pondered starting online group sessions. 

"Hey Ezer, what's your plan for the summer now?" one message stood out amidst the chatter, prompting several others to chime in with similar inquiries. 

Each buzz of his phone punctuated the silence of the room, a reminder of the social interactions that often felt alien to him. In the back of his mind, he knew his response would be practical, predictable; much like the routine he adhered to with an almost religious fervor. Yet, staring at the glowing screen, Ezer found himself hesitating, the ghost of yesterday's spontaneity whispering at the edge of his consciousness.

He set the phone back down, letting the device light up and dim with unanswered questions while he continued his meal in solitude.