“Just be careful while you’re out there, okay?” The words were offered quietly with just a hint of uncertainty. They were friends, nothing more. It wasn’t quite right for him to worry as much as he was doing now about the other. It was a subject neither one of them was ready to broach just yet. A subject that was likely to never even be broached, really. He was too much of a free spirit, easy to befriend others with his masked-smiles that no one ever saw too, and his friend was a loner who trusted too few people. Yael just had to be pleased with the fact that Quentin had wanted him to move in at all. The whole thing confused him still, but he tried not to think on it too much.
It had been just a few days ago that Quentin had been the one almost drowning in that uncertainty following the strange paint-color incident but things had settled easily and quickly, neither of them had really spent much time thinking about it and instead had focused on getting the rest of their little (though it was hardly that little) home decorated and set up so it could be nice and comfortable.
They each had their bedroom, his colorful and filled with pillows, a seated hammock in a corner, a small desk in another since he had a whole room to himself on the lower floor to use for art, he didn’t keep much more than a sketchbook or two in his bedroom. Quentin’s bedroom he had only seen glimpses of, didn’t dare go in unless he was invited. The other demon was much too secretive about things at this point. Still he had seen pale and dark intermingled somewhat, he had seen a darkly covered bed and heavy curtains over the window.
He wanted Quentin to trust him on a basis that was more than merely just because they both were demons. They both were different from the world, it was what had drawn the weaver demon to him. They were of two different breeds of demons but still they were not human, in any little way at all so it had felt different to meet the introverted young man. He had sensed a differences but he hadn’t been able to really tell what kind of demon this one had been either until he’d been told.
So even if he was curious to know just what kind of person Quentin was, he didn’t poke around, he didn’t dig. It wasn’t his place and it never would be unless the other opened up to him in some way, that really was all there was to it.
Quentin had looked at him with some curiosity when he’d offered his worried words. They always were careful when they were out but in the few weeks he had known and spent time with him, Quentin had never gone anywhere much further than the store, a few streets away for a walk or the park. This was a first trip out of their little city and even beyond the country. Yael was aware he couldn’t force Quentin to stay in, even if he had himself more than a bad feeling about the situation.
So all he could really do was worry as he waved his friend off, a small travel bag on, filled with thick socks and a coat heavier than he’d ever had any need for but the other had mumbled something about a brief trip off to where he had spent his childhood because someone had kept on writing to him about getting back together to discuss the good old times.
“..he didn’t sound like they’d been good old times to him when he was packing up.” Of course he was going to worry. His one mock-steady link with life (humans he spoke to now and again aside) was wandering off to spend time who knew where out into the cold.
Having the house to himself made it difficult to keep from snooping into that stark bedroom and digging around into whatever he could find about Quentin but he behaved, instead he mostly kept to his studio to the point where he fell asleep on the floor several times. He was working hard on a new piece, something that had been commissioned him by a client who seemed to appreciate the style he worked with, since this wasn’t the first time they worked together.
What made it difficult to really focus, however, was that Quentin hadn’t told him just how long he was going to be gone for. He had said a short while but it was hard to know just how long that way, no two souls had the same definition of a short while. So he let a few days go on by. Then a week. After the second one he started to really worry but since he had absolutely no idea as to his friend’s whereabouts, he could hardly do a thing about it.
Yael started falling asleep on the couch by the third week, hoping, expecting and waiting a return that seemed too long to come. It was by the end of the fourth week that he woke, early in the morning, just a little before the sun had begun to rise, to the lock clicking open on the door and the hinges creaking just softly as the door swung open.
Hopefully, he thought, maybe just hopefully, next time, that little while wouldn’t be quite so long. For the time being he rolled over and huddled a bit on himself. He would let Quentin come in, settle and do whatever it was he would need to do to settle back in before bombarding him with questions, if he even did that. If there were things to tell, maybe they would be told without needing to be asked for.
Tugging the blanket over himself a bit more securely, Yael simply listened to those steps as they stopped a few paces away from where he was. There was no shuffling and no words, only those steps starting again, heading down the corridor that lead to that stark bedroom he had avoided for the sake of things, for the fact that he wasn’t a snoop and he hadn’t belonged in that room.
He heard the dull thud of a bag being dropped to the ground and strained to hear anything else. All that came was a distant rustle and then the sound of water. The shower more than likely. Bathroom time was sacred time so Yael tried to close his mind to everything that surrounded him, tried his best to fall back asleep. It was best at this point.