literature

Unappreciated - 2 - MmyEdgar

Deviation Actions

devilishkurumi's avatar
Published:
316 Views

Literature Text

When Jimmy awoke, some long time later, he felt sunlight on him.  His first thought was damn, I left the window open again, but this was soon overcome by an intense pain in his stomach.  He groaned and rolled onto his side, clutching his abdomen, then changed his mind and grabbed his head as it started to throb.  Oh, for fuck’s sake.  How much did I drink?

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position, hunched over and shrugging the sweat-soaked blanket off of him.  But then he blinked, and looked at the blanket questioningly – he didn’t have a blanket on his bed, usually.

“You should probably lay back down,” a soft voice called from somewhere near the kitchenette.  Jimmy turned his head sharply, then regretted it and did what the voice asked him to do, pulling the blanket over his head and groaning.  His mouth tasted like something had shit in it, and his tongue was thick and dry.

“Here,” the voice said again, much closer this time, “Drink this.”

He pulled the cover off his head slightly, and then looked from the Styrofoam cup of orange juice to the guy he could have sworn he told to leave last night.  Still, a drink was a drink, and he took the cup, gulping down some of the pulpy stuff hastily.

“Not too fast.”

“What are you still doing here?” Jimmy asked hoarsely, glaring at the other in mild contempt.  “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

“Yeah.”  He offered no other information, and simply got up and moved back to the kitchenette.  “I’m making food.  You should probably eat something, since it looks like you haven’t lately.”

“I ate yesterday.”

“How much?” the man questioned idly, “You came in after I did and I left almost right after that.”

“I had some lo mein.  Why do you care?”

The man said nothing, just flipped something on the stove.

Despite his annoyance at this unresolved aspect to his life, Jimmy watched the other work in an idle contentment.  “...What are you making?”

“Pancakes,” the other responded, almost on default.  

Jimmy raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “But I didn’t have pancake mix...”

“You didn’t have anything.  I went out and bought food.  How many do you want?”

“...You went out and bought food?  Why didn’t you just leave?  I’m supposed to be your kidnapper, you know.”  As an afterthought, he added, “Two, I guess.”

“Yeah, you might want to work on that aspect of your life.”

“I didn’t plan it, you know!” Jimmy growled.  He would have yelled, but his head hurt too much, and he didn’t want to make it any worse than it already was.

“Yes,” the ex-hostage responded, “I noticed that.”  He sighed, and continued, “But, you are emulating Johnny, and Johnny didn’t plan it when he grabbed me... So, I suppose you could count it as a point to you.”

“So you really did get out of Nny’s house alive.”  Jimmy frowned, then groaned as he slowly got up, stretching carefully and cracking his back.  “How, though?”

The other put the pancakes onto a paper plate, frowning slightly.

“It’s.... complicated.  I didn’t get out of there.”  The other put the plate onto the counter, and Jimmy pulled one of the barstools over, sitting down and looking at the food as if it would bite him.

“You can’t not get out, and be alive.  It’s a physical impossibility.”  The other simply handed him a plastic fork, and then turned off the stove, taking his own pancakes and coming around to sit next to Jimmy.  “I mean, it’s Nny.”  The other continued to remain silent, merely handing him the syrup – also bought by him, since there was no way Jimmy would ever have Aunt Jemima in the cupboard.

Jimmy used a copious amount of the sugary substance and then put it back on the counter, allowing the other to take it himself.  He sawed off a piece of pancake and stuck it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.  “...’s pre’y goo’.”

The ex-hostage smiled easily, replying with a murmured “thank you” before starting to eat.

“Like I was saying, though, you shouldn’t be alive if you didn’t get out of his house.”  Jimmy was eating at an excelled rate, hoping that it would ease his stomach pains.  “I mean, it’s not like someone could just come back to life or anything.”

His hostage choked a little, and he raised an eyebrow at him.

“Right?” Jimmy asked, curious.

The other swallowed thickly, and nodded slowly, “Right...”  He didn’t sound so sure of himself.  “Look, um...”  The older of the two blinked, and looked at Jimmy, leaning his head to the side slightly, “What’s your name?  I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.”

“Oh, it’s Jimmy.  But you can call me-”

“Let me guess,” he cut in dryly, “I can call you Mmy.”  At Jimmy’s oblivious nod of happiness, he continued, “My name’s Edgar.”  He added, as an afterthought, “Edgar Vargas.  Anyway,” Edgar continued, “It’s really not a big deal as to how I’m here right now.  You really shouldn’t concern yourself about it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have ‘concerned’ yourself with making me food,” Jimmy retorted, finishing the pancakes with a flourish.

“You know, I could have been hungry, and didn’t plan on making you any, since you were out cold on that crappy thing in the corner.”

“If you were hungry,” Jimmy drawled, digging into the back pocket of the baggy jeans he had been wearing for three days, “You could have just left and gone home.”

Edgar was silent, and Jimmy smirked, before pulling out a crumpled pack of Marlboro 27s and a beat up Bic lighter.  Edgar raised an eyebrow at the other as he lit up a cigarette.

“Smoking this early in the morning?”

Jimmy shrugged, and got up, stumbling in a slightly drunken way to the open window.  “Yeah... sometimes, I just gotta have a smoke.”  And he sat down on the window sill, looking out idly at the greasy cityscape.  “So, you can go, now.”

“...I’m going to.  I’m just not finished with my food, thank you.”

Jimmy shrugged.  He really didn’t care at the moment, whether Edgar left or not.  He was used to being alone, and used to scrounging around for money, and used to not eating for a few days at the time.  He was fine with it, too, and didn’t mind Edgar leaving him to it.

“Whatever,” the younger finally said, taking a long drag and then looking down, “Hey, someone smashed a bottle on the ground.”

“That was you,” Edgar responded in vague annoyance, finishing off his plate of pancakes, “You almost fell out of the window.”

“Oh.”  It was a nondescript little “oh,” and wouldn’t have meant anything to anyone in particular, if Jimmy hadn’t been staring at the bottle so seriously.  He had almost fallen out of the window?  When did that happen?  God, he couldn’t remember anything.

A suddenly frightening thought surged up from his subconscious, and he spun around to stare at Edgar, who was staring at him idly.

“We didn’t fuck, did we?!”

Edgar blinked, paling a little.  “What?!” he exclaimed, in surprise, “What the hell makes you think that?!

“Well, you made breakfast.  And I couldn’t remember anything about last night.”  Jimmy treated the question with concern, before shrugging it off and turning back to the city.  “It looks like rain.  Don’t you think you should go?”

Edgar frowned, and then sighed.  “Fine, I suppose.  Not much left here.”  He went to the door, and fumbled with it for a moment, before getting it open.  He stopped at the doorway and looked back.  “And... um, sorry.  About Johnny.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The door slammed, and a huge drop of water fell onto Jimmy’s cigarette, dousing the lit end and causing it to go out.  He sighed, and dropped the cigarette out the window, closing it and curling up on his mattress.

He stared, for a while, at the plates on the table, and then at the blanket that Edgar must have put over him during the night.  Frowning, he finally tugged the quilt up and curled up into a ball under it.

His stomach didn’t hurt anymore.
Okay so here's the next chapter. It's shorter than the first because I ran out of stuff to do in Jimmy's POV.

In this chapter, stuff happens. And it's fun.

I'm so happy.

Comment on it or DIE.
© 2005 - 2024 devilishkurumi
Comments7
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In