His Paper Heart ✓

•5|His Booger Fairy

LOVE IS IN THE AIR. This was said by a drunk, lonely pillock who is a stranger to air pollution. If love is the heavy smell of exhaust fumes from cars then yes, love is indeed in the air. My stomach tightens as I grab Gray's hard arm, coughing nonstop as a result of inhaling said love that is in the air. Whoever came up with that, needs to be arrested. And Gray is of no help. He watches me calmly, chewing noisily on his potato chips between each word as he says:

"Do you need some water?"

I nod and cough and cough, over and over.

"Go get some then," he adds.

"You're the worst," I whisper, cringing at the burning sensation in my throat. "Okay, next question. What's your favorite movie?"

I inhale sharply and plop down heavily on a nearby bench under a tree. I am still panting from walking a far distance from the ice cream shop to Gray's tattoo shop. Quite recently, I have been having trouble breathing. It feels as of my throat ceases up every time I am tired but I can not tell my mother. Mothers worry. I take in a deep breath and yelp at the feeling of something scratching my foot. I bolt up quickly, my heart pounding harshly against my chest as I run into Gray's arm. I coil my arms around Gray's neck, my eyes shut tightly as I shake in fear.

"Get off me, now!" Gray demands.

"There's a snake under the bench," I whisper. "I think it bit me. I am not even joking. I felt it touch my leg."

"What is she talking about?" the euphoric voice of a little boy lingers in my ears over my panting.

"I have no idea. She hugs me and when I touch her ass, she calls me a pervert," Gray answers.

I clear my throat, taking my pale hands from around his neck and stepping back. I know, I might have overreacted but sometimes, my fight or flight response might be a tad bit broken. I pat Gray's shoulder, a smile hovering my lips, then I turn to the little man who practically drove my heart out of my chest a minute ago. He has porcelain skin, but unlike me, he looks like a washed out cement. Lilac bags hang under his soft, blue eyes, his fingers tightened around a children's story book as he stares at me. The kid in the hospital clothes scratches his head before waving at me with a wide grin.

"I'm not a snake," he says.

"Sorry, I thought you were one."

"You're pretty," he adds, earning a loud scoff from Gray.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Simon."

"You ran from the hospital?" Gray sits down on the bench. Simon stares down at his toes, rocking back and forth from where he's standing. "It's okay if you did. I won't tell anyone."

"I didn't mean to," Simon mutters.

"How old are you?" I enquire.

"Ten."

"Maybe we should take him back, right Gray?"

"No!" Simon yells. "I don't wanna go back."

"Come on little Ariel," Gray starts, "don't be a party pooper. Come here Simon."

The boy dashes to Gray and climbs on the bench. As he sits, he puts his head on Gray's shoulder and exhales. I rake my fingers through my hair slowly, debating on whether to do the right thing and be titled the pooper or be a bad one, like Gray. Simon pouts at me, batting his soft lashes as Gray smirks.

"We have to take him back." I assert firmly.

"Please Ariel, just a few minutes," Simon whines.

"Your parents must be worried."