Once lost, Now found

Chapter three

Cas

Never in my life would I have thought I'd be taking a drunk home. I mean it's not something I would have ever done, but he looked so pitiful, so down in the dumps. I could well be taking a murderer home or at least he could rob my arse. But its not exactly warm out at the moment. The rain even in these summer months bring with it a chill to the air. I didn't want to leave him then hear on the news a body had been found dead and it was because I just bypassed him and left him defenceless against the damp coolness of a summer's night. I just just pray to god that I won't regret this. 

On the way back to mine he mumbled and fell over a good few times. He smelt really bad after vomiting down himself. I don't know what he had consumed during the day for it to smell so rotten, but mixed with alcohol it was even worse. Then I thought about what he had said, that he had nowhere left to go. What had he being doing up until now? Where had he been staying? What had caused him to have nothing? Immediately I felt sorry for him. If I hadn't had my grandmother's place I would have most likely been in his situation. I couldn't imagine how bad it would be for me, yet he looks tough where I'm not. I'd be dead I reckon. Well, I'd caused a huge problem for myself, he was half naked in my bed, the only bed in the house after my grandmother emptied the other bedrooms. I could have put him on the sofa, but its old and going into storage. Its sentimental value was to high and I'd rather not have vomit or the stink of alcohol on it, where as my bed, it didn't matter, it's only a temporary bed anyway. So now I have a drunk in my bed and arms full with vomit filled clothes and he just snores his pretty drunken head off as if nothing happened at all. "Stupid idiot and stupid me." I muttered to myself as I chucked his clothes in the washer. The night dragged on and that guys heavy snores could be heard around most of the damn house. Yet it kind of makes me chuckle. I couldn’t even tell what colour his eyes were when I first saw him slouched on the damp floor, when he looked up at me, but he had dark hair, darker than my own brown hair, and a more masculine build than my own. I guessed him to be at least a few years younger than me, which put him in his early to mid-twenties at best. What a crazy night and will definitely become a crazy morning when he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed and house. I'm not quite sure how I should act, or what I'm going to say when he does wake in a most likely 'what the fuck' situation. 

So I finished my cup of tea and laid my head on my pillow on my grandmother's old sofa. It's still uncomfortable, even more so that I'm bigger and not the small kid who would fall asleep on one end while my grandmother did her knitting on the other. My feet now hang off the end and the cushions had the most uncomfortable indents from years of wear. Doesn't look like I'm getting much sleep, not tonight anyway.

Once lost, Now found

The sun beams in through the closed sliding doors, I'd forgotten to shut the curtains the night before and I started to sweat from the hot rays. I got up and opened the doors, I let the warm air circulate and I practically hopped into the kitchen when my stomach knotted after hearing a deep grumble from upstairs. "Shit." For a few moments I'd forgotten about my drunken guest and now it hit me like a tidal wave. I heard heavy feet, thump thump and creaking of steps. He was on his decent. I hurried the percolator and started to wash up the few remaining bits in the sink. Again another grumble. 

"H….hello." I heard his voice. He sounded husky and strained, yet not in the slightest angry at his unfamiliar surroundings.

"In here." I yelped. I felt that flush of embarrassment when my voice came out like that of a girl. 

"Oh…." He said, standing in the doorway. He looked pale, and dishevelled. Poor guy. "Erm…."

"Coffee?" I asked, interrupting him. He gave me a small nod and sat at the small kitchen table. "You look awful."

"Right? Erm….what's going on?"

"I brought you to my house." He scratched at his head as his other hand was tapping generously on the table. He's nervous. "Sorry, you looked like you needed somewhere to stay."

"Well…." He said, then shut his mouth and carried on tapping his fingers on the wood. I wondered what was going on in his head, I could see the wheels turning, I could see he had questions, yet he didn't speak another word, so I passed him a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"Milk, sugar?" He shook his head and took a long gulpful. His eyes squinted in pain as the hot liquid slides down his throat and he let out a gasp. "You should be more careful."

"I needed it. I'm kind of confused."

"I thought you would be." I sat in front of him. I watched him for a while then I noticed his eye colour that I couldn't see last night. Hazel, he has bright hazel eyes.

"By the way, my clothes?"

"I washed them. I will put them out to dry shortly and with the heat they shouldn't take long to dry."

"Right, thanks."

"Why did you get so drunk?" I thought maybe I hit a raw nerve when his eyes glazed over and he looked away from me to pick at this thumb. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No!" He piped. "I was upset, I guess." He said softer that time.

"Oh right." I gave him a soft smile so he knew I wasn't some creep, that maybe, if he wanted to, he could talk to me. My grandmother often told me that sometimes telling a stranger all your problems would make you feel less heavy. I wasn't sure if that was ever true, but I thought it was worth a shot with this guy who looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

"I….erm, broke up with my boyfriend…."

"I see." He shot me a quick glance then took in the rest of his coffee. "Did he leave you?" I asked.

"Sort of." He really does look so sad, like any minute he will start crying. "I'll leave once my clothes are dry….so, thanks for your help…."

I cut in as I passed him the percolator jug. "I'm Cas." He smiles, taking it from me.

"I'm….Luca." We sat for ages in silence, drinking nothing but coffee. Taking glances every now and then, trying to figure each other out without so much as a word. It's a strange feeling having him sitting at my table in a house I've not been in in years. It felt quite comfortable and warm. But they say all good things must come to an end and he will be gone soon and again I will be alone, in this house.