***
It's another cold, grey evening. We've eaten, if you could call it that, and I'm sitting out back, despite the weather, gazing into the dark, rolling clouds, absorbing from them the heavy feeling of loneliness that they seem so badly to want to communicate to me.
Jonas' footsteps scrape the ground, but I don't turn to look at him. It just makes me miss Oscar, and that, in turn, accentuates the isolation. I can only look up at the clouds and empathize with their deep sorrow.
He walks to my side, sits down, and says nothing. The clouds roll and churn, and I think they might weep. They're always weeping, and no one ever cares to ask why.
"So," he says. "Sleepwalking. That's a new one."
His voice interrupts my reverie, sending me crashing toward the practical. I look at him now, feeling like I'm waking up. Feeling like I'm not sure where I was a minute ago. "I feel really weird," I mumble half-heartedly.
He frowns, and reaches out, and touches my cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You don't look so good," he says. His fingers are cold against my skin, but soothing. I'm glad that he leaves them there a moment before he takes them away.
"I'm fine," I say, looking down. I almost laugh at my own lie.
"You're starving," he says. He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and takes out a small parcel wrapped in paper. He passes it to me. "Here. Eat."
I look down at the package he presses into my hands. "Where..." I begin, but he's already shaking his head.
"It's for you," he says. "You're the skinniest of all of us. You need it. Eat up."
My fingers, trembling, unwrap the paper to reveal a sizable hunk of bread. There are raisins in it. It's still moist. Not stale. I look at Jonas. He looks back. Finally, I forget my questions, and turn to the bread. It's thick and sweet. Almost as good as Oscar's muffin. I try to make myself eat slowly, but it's impossible. At least I manage to hold the chunk out to Jonas. He waves me off. I keep eating. For a moment, I forget everything else.
When I'm done, we sit there in the quiet. It wasn't that much bread, but I feel very full. It's more than I've eaten in a while. The world slows down. I lean back on my hands. I actually feel, for a bit, OK.
When I look at Jonas, he's already looking at me. Part of me wonders why he's always looking at me like that, anymore. It's not an admiring look. It's far off. Analyzing. Like he's trying to figure me out. Like he's not sure he wants to. Uneasiness threatens to creep in, but I refuse to let it. I cling to whatever closeness, whatever security I felt a moment ago.
"It's that tower, again," I say, wanting to confide in him. "There was a door in it, and I was going to open it."
He studies me, frowns. "Wonder what's behind it."
"Well, I guess I'll never know, since you stopped me from opening it," I joke, absently whapping his arm.
He smiles, just a little. And he's quiet again. Suddenly I want to curl up against him, rest my head on his chest, feel his arms around me. More than anything in the world, I want that. But I don't. I look away, feeling wistful, and again, deeply lonely. "There were like... all these Sentries," I say, because I can't stand the quiet. "They were chasing me."
I'm not looking at him, but I sense his shiver. Still, he says nothing.
I sigh. After a while, I glance at him, and he's looking at me. Again. Still. I'm never good at reading him, but there's a guardedness in his expression that's hard to deny. We look at each other across what might as well be a chasm that reaches to the center of the earth. The small space between us is an immeasurable distance. And still sinking into me is the deep, echoing loneliness. I close my eyes, feeling it. It seeps in so far that I'm sure it doesn't show on the surface. I'm calm, and even. So this time, it's me that says: "It's cold out here." I climb to my feet, already heading away. "C'mon."