Another grain

The car is long gone, when I finally make up a plan of how to replace the essential stuff.
Again, Oliver is the solution.
He had been many times before, being a lot more intelligent and beread than me, he comes up with plenty of good ideas. He usually got us out of the trouble, that I had got us into.
Now his role is more passive, 200 miles distance make any direct involment impossible, but I know that without him I would be lost. It alsmost seems that with him gone my brain makes an attempt of replacing his genius and somehow it works well enough for me to remeber Oliver's scout passion.
It was something I teased him about many times, all the singing and tight shorts against his pale legs, so form fitting that his lower half resembledthe one of a girl.
As far as one can see at least.
Well, his scout passion (now gone since a while, replaced by alcohol and music when we became sixteen), left some traces, one of them being a tent. It's small, but it's a tent and if I'm lucky enough I might find his old sleeping bag as well.
The interesting part is getting in.
The last thing I saw in connection to this house was his aunt and cousin vanishing in it.
I haven't seen them leave, but then I haven't really monitored the house.
So I guess I just have to take the risk.
Having a torch would be good now, but it's gone with my parents and so I have to rely on my eyes and my knowledge of the bulding alone.
One of the things I know is that they don't have a alarm system and that Oliver's mum usually leaves the window in the kitchen open, since it's facing the backyard, which in itself is conciled from the street by a brick wall hung with ivy which I use now to pull myself up.
The slick green suff is wet under my fingers, probably cause I'm crushing the poor things, wringing all it's jucies out of it, but climbing the wall any other way is just impossible.
It takes at least ten minutes until I host myself up onto the top and by then my trousers are torn and my left knee is bleeding. It's stinging, but there are things that hurt worse and I close my eyes, letting myself fall onto the other side. I land with a thumb and my footsoles tingle, but everything else seems to be alright.
Wiping the blood of my knee, I look around for the open window, but Sod's law is active like never before-all windows are closed.
I swear lightly, grap one of the bricks gone loose from the wall and make my way to the kitchen window.
I'm fully aware of the fact that a normal person must hear the sound that emits when I break the window, the glass shattering and falling onto the kitchenfloor, but nothing inside the house seems to be aware of my presence.
Still, I hold my breath as I slowly start taking out the last pieces of glass stuck in the frame and I leave them blood and sweat covered on the ground next to me, before I bring my arms up and pull myself inside.
The kitchen is completely dark, the clock of the microwave turned off, not a single ray of light
helping me find my way. I bang aginst two chairs and almost run into the counter, but after a few seconds I finally stand in the hallway, next to the stairs that lead up to the second floor, where Oliver's and the other bedrooms are.
The moon shines through the frontdoor, which is half glass anyway and I can see my blood dropping onto the floor and staining the white carpet that silences my steps when I make my way upstairs.
My eyes follow the picture frames, that line the way up, images of Oliver and his mum and even one, a really old one, of his Dad and right next to it is one of me and Oli, both smiling brightly. It's a sign. I know these pictures have been here before and they're nice to look at, but right now they're a sign, as if their only purpose troughout all these years was to be here tonight.
To reassure me what I'm doing is right.
And I know it is and it feels so good, 'cause in my mind I can almost see Oli and I being reunited, with tears and hugs and promises and all. And the moment I'm gonna set my foot onto the street towards xxxstate, it will become certain future.
A shiver runs down my spine, a draught tickles my skin, the air coming from one of the doors further down the hallway, one that stands open, but I ignore it and turn to the left, carefully pressing down the doorhandle of Olivers room.
Whereas mine was always filled with pictures his walls are bare and white, just photos put into some selected places, over his bed, next to his desk and so on.
Whereas mine is dark and gloomy, his shines brightly, the white reflecting the moonlight I guess.
His bed is neatly made, his teddy sitting on his pillow and I pick it up and press it against my chest, before I turn around and step over to his big wardrobe.
It's massive and explains how he can keep his room so clean, because he sometimes just throws his stuff into it. Bad habit, for now I have to find the tent in there. It's most likely at the bottom and I sigh and kneel down, my hand reaching for his bookbag, for something to put all the things into.
The first thing that goes in is his teddy
Everything else proofes to be a bit more difficult, 'casue during my search for the tent I come across various things that remind me of our childhood. There are way too small batmansuits and broken Gameboys and a single tennisball. I find some of his old schooljournals and some of the conversations we held in silent writing on the corner of some pages. When I reread them I notice that we were just talking about unimportant stuffs like parties and videogames. Fortunatley Oliver's statements are just as immature as mine, even though his handwriting is nice and neat compared to mine.
I overfly the journals and and underneath I find the tent, merely an edge of it poking out of all the mess. I grap it and pull quickly, the whole thing coming free so quickly that I fall backwards, some more stuff spilling over me. One of the things is the sleeping bag and I take it happily, when I notice a small box in the corner of the wardrobe. It has spiderman pictures on it and I recoginse it as something I had given him for his brithday like ten years ago when we were still little boys. I pick it up and just looking at the slightly scratched face of Peter Parker makes me smile. I'm about to open it when I hear a noise from the corridor, steps coming closer to where I am. I shove the box into the bag and grap the tent and sleeping bag, then I slowly get up from the floor.
The steps have stopped and I can hear water running in the bathroom, mixed with a faint sobbing noise. I exit the room and make my way towards the bathroom, sneaking to just catch a glance of what is going on.
When I'm close enough to look in I am greeted by the sight of Oliver's little cousin, standing crying at the sink, trying to clean his sheets under the water, a big wet stain on the front of his trousers.
His hair is as dark and curly as Olivers and his eyes are only slightly brighter, a little bit more blue maybe, but they are squeezed together tightly while tears run down his round face.
The image in itself comes so close to what Oli used to look like at that age, wetting his bed just one of the many nervous habits he had taken on after his father's death. So I take a step forward, all my guards down, now that there is a little boy that needs my help, and I place my hand on his shoulder. His eyes open immediatly and recognices me within an instant.
"Nila", he whispers, but not confused or terrified in the least. More thankful.
I nod my head and pry the sheets out of his hand.
"Let that be", I say. "Your mum can do that tomorrow."
He lets go of it and he also doesn't flinch when I pull his trousers down, throwning them right into the corner without a second thought.
"Cleaning you up is more important", I tell him, while my hand reaches to wet a flanel and he smiles and takes it from me, wiping long enough for us both to be sure that he is completely clean now.
"And now", I push him towards the door. "Now you're just gonna go and sleep in your mums bed."
"Ok."
He taps over to the door of the guestroom, before turning around and exclaiming a tiered "Good night."
"Night Alex", I whisper and then I pick up my things once more and leave the house through the frontdoor.

*****
another chapter.....
seems unimportant......?
just wait.....
you'll find out