Zavian’s boots splashed the water as he walked through the soaked sidewalk.
Somewhere out there someone's rain drum echoed through the neighborhood as the rain stopped.
The melody was soft, like a sad lullaby from a lost prince.
Zavian would like to imagine it that way every time he walked to hear the rain drum when the rain stopped, maybe he hoped its melody would comfort his sorrow somehow.
It never worked anyway.
That’s just life. He never gave up though.
Something could help him.
Certainly, someone would help him.
“Zavian! Ah, how’s it going, my friend,” Arlo called out to Zavian, only then did Zavian’s head turn.
“Huh.” He glanced up at Arlo.
“Y’know I see you just about every week wandering out here when it rains. Don't you ever get sick?” Arlo’s bright eyes focused on Zavian. A stupid smile was painted on Arlo’s face.
“No.”
“Lucky. If I were you, I’d be sneezing and coughing like a madman, y’know what I'm saying?”
“I’m not like you and you’re not me.”
“Yeah. Guess I'm not. Well, mom's supposed to make some food; you could come in?”
“No thanks.”
“Gee.. Maybe some other time then..” Arlo watched Zavian go, his smile fading off his face.
Pitter patter.
Soaked boots.
Muddy floor.
Now there's a trail. A trail to Zavian’s room.
The boots are outside his door, residing on the floor.
He lay on his bed, hoping someone would show up. But sometimes you get tired of waiting for someone who'll never come..
—
“Mom, I hate this so much! Zavian just doesn’t like me! And trust me this time I tried your method! He doesn’t like me!” Arlo sighed.
“I say give it a rest. You know how..depressing the other side of our neighborhood is. He's just like all the rest of them. You never know, maybe it’s good you can't be his friend. He might taint you. I was only lucky to have tainted your father ‘cause you would have been an absolute nightmare.” Cello responded, turning to her son.
“A nightmare..? They’re not nightmares. I wouldn't have been a nightmare.”
“Hmm. It’s almost like seeing myself again through your eyes.” Cello put her hands on Arlo’s cheeks, smiling softly as Arlo frowned.
“No, I'm going to be his friend and it’s all gonna work out.”
“If you say so. It’ll be a real disappointment if he taints you cuz’ then I’d have to disown you haha.”
“Not funny Mom.” Arlo rolled his eyes and got up from the dinner table. “I'm going outside.”
Arlo slipped on his shoes and went outside to the yard.
The grass was still wet, and somehow, he still pictured Zavian coming down the street; one day, they could be friends.
Only if Zavian was willing to try anyway.
It didn’t make Arlo sad.
Everyone is different and he knew that well.
Maybe Zavian just didn't trust him, and he had every right not to trust him, yet he would try to talk to him every time.
Each time Zavian talked a little more, each time Zavian recognized Arlo’s voice, Each time.
The sun was waving goodbye as the moon shone for those who appreciated her beauty, welcoming the night and all Arlo could do was wait, wait for someone who probably wouldn’t arrive.
“Arlo.” For a second Arlo was sure he'd been imagining things again until a rock hit his arm.
“Ow. What was that for Zavian? Wait, Zavian!? Dude you came to me! What's up?” Arlo hopped up and ran over to Zavian.
“Hi, Arlo.” Zavian’s face rested in a sort of neutral expression, hard to read.
“Hey, what’s up?” Arlo put both his elbows up on the fence and cupped his own face, waiting.
“I thought about it. I do want to come in. I do want to hang out.”
“For real!?”
“I guess.”
“You’re gonna love this c'mon in!” Arlo let Zavian in.
There was a huge, very loudly exclaimed difference between Zavian’s side of the neighborhood compared to Arlo’s.
It was almost like he knew he didn't belong and it made him a little uncomfortable to be coming out of his shell.
One,
Two,
Three steps inside.
Four,
five,
six,
Up the stairs
Seven,
Eight,
Door.
There was a door blocking their path, a sign hung from it.
‘Arlo’s Room’ it read.
Arlo opened the door, and the room was decorated with everything Arlo loved; his personality shone through his room.
“Sit wherever you like.”
“Is your mom ok with me being here?” Zavian stayed frozen outside Arlo’s room.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Cmon.” Arlo held out his hand for Zavian to take. Hesitant, but somehow trusting, Zavian took his hand and stepped inside. Zavian looked around.
“It’s a lot.”
“Huh?”
“A lot. It’s a lot, there's a lot of stuff scattered everywhere. Why is there stuff on the walls?”
“They’re decorations. I got some LED lights and posters of my favorite singers and actors, and little stuff I love is over there, and everyone’s gotta have a bookshelf even if it’s not for a book. That's why I have a bunch of figures on here and bobbleheads. They’re cool. You know, you could have one.” Arlo ranted.
“Why would someone want that?” Zavian sounded almost disgusted, and it slightly offended Arlo, but he tried not to show it. Instead, he grabbed a figure and handed it to Zavian.
“Take that one. You’ll thank yourself for taking it from me.” As Zavian walked home he thought about Arlo’s words, figure in hand.
Two sides to a town, the Night and Day sides, obviously separated by aesthetics. one side belonging to the gloomier people of the neighborhood and the other belonging to the happy, spontaneous people. Friendships are common between the two sides but die quickly, that's if a person isn't tainted. Arlo is determined he can be friends with a particular someone in mind without having to change him or having to change himself to remain his friend
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