Page 21 of Bazooka
After I left the groceries on the countertop, I headed to the bedroom, only to find the bed empty. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw Luz sitting on the window seat. He was dressed in my clothes as when I left him, but his hair looked damp as if he’d just showered. He was gazing into the distance, but I knew he was aware of my presence, although he didn’t say anything.
I gave him a quick once-over, scanning the visible wounds on his body. He looked better, just as John Smith had said, but his expression spoke of other kinds of trouble.
“What’s so interesting outside?” I asked him instead of the logical “How are you?”.
He smirked. “I hate this fucking city.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a war zone. You have the Cemetery in the west, which, if you didn’t know, is the most notorious part of town. Across from it, in the east, is the Loser’s Division with the worst cops in the country, present company excluded. In the south, outside of town, there’s a military base. In the north, the prison. And we’re smack in the middle of it.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
Luz’s smile was bitter. “‘Cause I have no reason to leave? Not the one that counts. Why did you come to this dump of a town, anyway?”
I shrugged. “To do some good.”
“Good,” he murmured, mulling it over.
When his turquoise eyes found mine, they were glowing with the purple light of the sunset behind him.
“You’re nothing like I thought you would be, you know?” Luz said, sounding almost accusatory, as if I’d tricked him somehow.
He wasn’t what I expected either. Not now, not in this room. His compulsory naughty smile and habitual flirting were gone. His devil-may-care attitude was buried under what I presumed was a mountain of pain. He looked sad and seeing him sad was unnaturally hard for me. It turned him into a person I didn’t recognize, someone hidden under all the bullshit he wore like a shield of armor. It was so obvious to me that I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it before.
Looks-wise, Luz was a ten out of ten, and I could say it objectively. Slim, athletically built, and tall, he was toned but not too skinny. He had dirty blond hair, short on the sides, and a rumpled mess of waves on top. The symmetrical bone structure of his face reminded me of the Greek statues from history books. Ridiculously colored eyes, a mish-mash of green and blue, were a definite standout. Another standout were his full, pouty lips that had no place on a man’s face. He was a manly guy, but he had a bratty aura about him that was in contrast with his looks.
“How are you?” I asked him the necessary stupid question.
“Fine.”
“Did you have trouble showering?”
“Not initially, but it became a bitch after a while, and now I can’t walk because my ankle is killing me. And I forgot to pee.” He shifted his foot and hissed in pain. “Fuck! I’m going to kill that toothless bastard when I find him. Fuck him! And fuck my life!”
He was spiraling. All the signs were there. He was hyperventilating; his face was pale under the bruises, and his eyes roamed wildly. I could see it all. The panic. The fear. The pain. It was so unexpected that, for the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do. And I found it unacceptable—both him spiraling, and me not knowing what to do.
I walked up to him and took his chin in my hand, making him look at me. He blinked in sudden confusion as I inspected his face.
“You look good,” I said.
He snorted. “I look like shit.”
“Better, then.”
“Ugly.”
“You’re not ugly,” I said, pulling him to his feet. When I lifted him in the air, he squeaked in surprise before wrapping both his arms and legs around me.
“Number one or number two?” I asked him, suppressing a smile as I carried him to the bathroom.
“Fuck off, Bazooka.”
He was still there somewhere… old Luz that I knew … and I could hear it in his voice. The insolence. The disobedience. The pluck. And I wanted him back.
I left him to do his thing and headed to the kitchen to take care of the groceries. When I returned to the bathroom, he’d just finished washing his hands. I lifted him the same as before, but this time his arms and legs wrapped around me readily.
“You smell good,” Luz murmured, drawing a deep breath. “Vanilla.”
