#spoonkara

You slowly walk closer, and see that he seems to be about the same size and age as you, but apart from that, he looks nothing like you. You squat down next to him, wondering whether you should wake him. He doesn't seem dangerous. But maybe you ought to call the police?

Just as you are thinking about that, the boy blinks slowly and then opens his eyes. He looks around, stares at you for a few seconds and then groans, shaking his head.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbles.

'Are you alright?' you ask.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' he answers just before he grabs his neck as though he is in pain.

'Do you want to call someone?' you ask.

The boy shakes his head. 'I'll get home by myself.'

'So, what were you doing in my garden?'

He looks around. 'Well, I have no idea why I ended up specifically in your garden,' he says, 'but I guess it's just as fine, isn't it? I mean, I could have fallen down a cliff or something, too.'

'Were you drunk?'

'No. Things like this just happen when I sleep.'

'So, you're a sleepwalker, then?'

'I guess.'

'Where did you come from? Where do you live?'

'Oh, quite a few blocks away,' he says as he gestures in a vague direction. You are convinced that he is speaking the truth, even though his story is somewhat crazy. You have never heard of a sleepwalker just walking into people's gardens. Especially not yours.

'Do you want a cup of coffee?'

He looks up. 'Yes,' he says slowly, as if he's still thinking about your offer. 'Thank you.'

Judging by the way he speaks, he's as American as you are. Somehow, that puzzles you. A lost, drunk foreigner waking up in your garden would have been crazy, but at least it would have made sense. This guy seems perfectly sober, just very tired. You have never seen him on the streets before, so how far away would he live? Somehow, you see him before your eyes, wandering on the streets at night, as cars nearly miss him. And you are worried. Worried for this dude you don't know, worried that he might do this again.

'Are you gonna be okay?' you ask him.

'Sure,' he replies, still not entirely awake as he follows you, his eyes on the grass. 'I just... I just need to hide my keys so I won't walk out of the door again.'

'Do you live by yourself?'

'Yeah.'

You offer him your couch as you go get some coffee. You remember that there was rain forecasted for last night. You look behind you, where he sits on your couch, silently waiting for his drink. Come to think of it... it must have been pretty cold last night.

'Say, weren't you freezing?'

'Yeah, I was. I still am.'

Before you ask him anything, you walk off to get him a blanket. He accepts it with a smile, then yawns, then shivers heavily. Your coffee is ready, and you bring it to the table.

'Dude, I didn't scare you, or anything?'

'Well, not really. I just didn't expect you to be there.'

He grins, taking a sip from his coffee. 'That's only logical.'

'Is the coffee okay?' you ask, pointing at the cup he's holding. It has the Starfleet logo on it and in fact, you're quite proud of it.

'It's great,' the sleepwalker answers. 'Especially since it's recommended by the fleet. I had no idea the coffee from the Enterprise was this good.'

You smile. It's always good to find a fellow Trek fan. It always feels like coming home.

'Are you tired?' you ask, as he yawns again. 'If you wanna sleep, you shouldn't drink coffee.'

'Nah... I'll be alright,' he says softly.

'Sure?'

He nods.

  'Oh,' he suddenly bursts out. 'I haven't even told you my name. What an inconsiderate bastard I am.'

'Oh, that's okay.'

'No, it isn't. I look like a criminal or a junkie just lying around in your garden and you give me coffee, and I don't even tell you my name. That's just inexcusable.'

You smile. 'So what is your name?'

'Noah. Noah Antwiler. And what would be yours, young gentleman?'

'Lewis Lovaugh.'

He nods. 'Lewis. That I can remember.'

For a moment you sense something, some sort of vision, telling you that you are going to get to know Noah better. This isn't going to be the only time you will see him. You have a feeling that he will stick around, perhaps for years. Maybe it's something in his eyes. They seem to tell you that he won't disappear, like so many others before him. But maybe it's just your own imagination, yelling at you not to let him go just yet. Not so easily.

'You know, I'm probably going to become really tired around noon,' Noah announces. 'Do you have anything scheduled for today? Because if you have, I'll get going.'

'Oh, no, I haven't, actually,' you say truthfully. All you had planned for today was go to the comic store, read a few comics, work on a school project a little and post a review on the internet. It's a Monday, but your Mondays are easy. 'I'll be here around that time.'

'Will it be okay if I stay here until I have slept a little? Or is that a problem?'

'No, not at all. Stay as long as you want.'

'Because you know, if I go around sleepwalking again now, I won't be at my own place. I'd probably... well, fall off these stairs or something.'

'Really?' you ask, suddenly worried sick again.

He shrugs. 'It's happened before.'

You know, very clearly, that you are not going to leave him alone during his nap. For his own safety, and for the safety of your stuff. Even though you feel a little wrong for wanting to do that. As if sleeping is something highly private. As if you're breaking his privacy if you want to sit next to the bed in which he is dreaming. Maybe because he won't know what is happening around him while he is asleep.

'What do I do when you get up and start walking into the walls?'

He looks up to you. 'Hold me.'

You blink a couple of times. His eyes are serious. You just don't know what to say and wait for an explanation.

'Just hold me. Try maneuvering me back to bed. It's the only thing that works, I'm sure. Someone once did that for me and I didn't panic, I just went back to sleep.'

He snorts at your surprised expression. 'I know it sounds weird. I'm sorry, it's just the only thing that ever worked.'

'Okay. I'll do it, then.'

'I hope I won't get up at all.'

'Yeah, I can imagine.' You think about what you were about to do when you set foot in the garden in the first place, and remember your breakfast. You were just taking out the trash, and when you walked back to make yourself a bowl of cereal, you found Noah. You're still hungry. And he must be hungry, too.

'I'm gonna make some breakfast, you want some?'

'Oh, please!' he laughs. 'Can I help?'

  You move to the kitchen, where you make your favourite cereal and Noah is busy cutting tomatoes for your sandwiches. He is quite clumsy with your kitchen knife and cuts his fingers more than once, so you hand him some band-aids. As the food is finally finished, and you sit down at the kitchen table, you think: 'Hm, this went well.' Not once during this time in the kitchen have you felt awkward, out of place or embarrassed; emotions that you usually have on a regular basis. Not when Noah's around. You feel like you're his equal. Even when you eat, it seems so normal. There's no tension, no fear of being different. You're just joking around, talking about Trek, about movies, even about 4chan. Noah is a nerd if there ever was one, so he knows everything you bring up, even some of your more obscure comics.

'No! Fuck countdown and everyone related to it!' he yells with a grin as you mention the series. You almost spray your cereal on the kitchen table and need at least a minute to recover. Then, as you look at him, smiling at you from the other side of the table, noticing his lips, trying to stop yourself, you involuntarily feel a stab somewhere in your stomach. It confuses you. And the moment after, you don't understand it anymore. But it makes sense somehow. You and Noah seem to be the perfect match so far. Everything you say to him, he returns with a smile. But you... you and a boy you barely know? You and a boy? You and anyone? You shake your head and return to your cereal. It's better to stop here. Noah could become a good friend of yours, if things keep going this direction, and you would never want to ruin that. Besides, now that you look at him again, there's nothing. And you must admit, that is a relief.

  After you have both finished eating your breakfast, you offer him some clean socks and a clean shirt, and politely move him to the couch where he sits down and watches some TV, while you run upstairs to get the comics you had scheduled for today. As you put them on the table, Noah leans over out of curiosity, and before you know it, you are reading your comics together, thinking up jokes on almost every page. You read some X-men, some spinoffs, and some funny obscure stuff you just picked up from the store because they had an interesting title or a flat out stupid cover. Because you get up to sit next to him on the couch and read over each other's shoulders, you suddenly feel as though Noah is a close friend of yours. Time flies, and you are unaware of it. As you just keep on talking, wandering away from the original topic until you are somewhere between quantum physics and the endlessness of the universe, you sometimes check the clock, as if you are doing something that is taking way too long. But then you wonder, what would you rather do? Was there something more important or more fun scheduled for today? So you shrug and continue.

  However, there comes a time in every conversation when there is nothing left to be said, at least not today. You find yourself coming back to the same topic, and both of you have slowed down the pace. Noah yawns, his mouth wide open, before he hides it with his hand and grins.

'Okay. I need to sleep.'

You take a quick look at him, and his eyes seem more tired than they were this morning. As you look at them, he struggles to keep them open, and appears to lose all the strength and vigor in his body.

'Come on, I'll show you the spare bedroom,' you say and get up. He looks so powerless, hanging on the couch, that you reach out your hand and help him up. When you're walking up the stairs, he almost leans on your shoulder, and you move very slowly. You reach the spare room, and when you arrive at the bed, he almost immediately drops himself on it, with a smile, as if he wants to say that he can't help it, and he's sorry. He moves around for a few seconds, pulling the blanket over his waist, rolls over, and falls asleep. The returned silence in your rooms is overwhelming.

  You sit down next to the bed and see if he's alright. His breathing sounds steady and calm, and his pulse seems perfectly fine. But still, you can't leave him just yet. What if he gets up and falls over? Okay, it would be a funny sight, but you are responsible here, all of a sudden. Even though you have promised yourself you would sit by his bed and watch over him, even if it was just for the sake of the furniture, you feel strange while doing it. What are you supposed to do? How long will he be asleep, anyway? You think about sleep and everything you have ever read about it, but realize you have not the faintest idea of what this condition means. If only you could ask Noah how long this usually takes. You walk over to the window, and watch the birds in your garden. A plane flies over, far away in the afternoon sky. Maybe you could go to your own room, next to this one, and play around with the computer for a while. But you don't feel like it. You could get your nintendo DS from downstairs and play a game. Maybe you should do that... But the moment you are about to step out of the room, you know you can't. You return to the bed, and sit down on the carpet, your head on your arms, your eyes closed.

  You are startled by a sudden sound of something hitting the wooden bed. Were you asleep? What time is it? You look around, the sunlight hurts your eyes. When your vision is clear again, you get up from your uncomfortable position and check on Noah. Did he just make that sound? You suddenly notice his eyes are half-opened. As you stand watching, doubting whether you should ask him if he's okay, he kicks the bed, confirming your hypothesis. You are all awake again, and stare at Noah with big eyes. It fascinates you, somehow, as if you are witnessing an experiment, something that not many people get to see in their lives. Noah mumbles, throws away his blanket. You take a step backward, to give him space, knowing that you will be close to guard him if something happens. He puts his feet on the ground, sits on the bed for a short while, and gets up, just like that. He takes a few steps towards the window, and a few steps to the other side of the room. He seems to be oblivious to where he is. He starts to make strange, wide gestures, almost hitting a desk and throwing off a few books. He takes a step in your direction, and another. It's almost as if he's trying to run towards you. You look behind you. There's nothing there but the white door leading back to the hallway. You take a deep breath; this is it. You remain where you are.

  Noah stands in the middle of the room for another minute or so, mumbling incoherent sentences you don't understand. His head is hanging, and he's staring at a void. He doesn't see you, has no idea where you are. Then he walks in your direction, in a normal pace that he would use when walking on the sidewalk, shopping for groceries. He starts making those weird gestures again, and he hits you on your shoulder, and hits you again. For a moment, he scares you immensely. His eyes see nothing, but it's as if he wants to kill you. His movements are uncontrolled, but strong, and you have no clue of what he wants. He's only a step away from you. He swings his arm at you violently, but you manage to hold him down and wrap your arms around him tightly, in the same movement. He breathes slowly. You can feel it.

  His aggression disappears immediately, and he's perfectly still in your arms. He lets his head rest on your shoulder, and his black hair tickles your cheek, but you just can't move. Your heart beats at an insane speed. Noah's body is still so warm from sleeping. Should you say something? Should you try to put him back in bed? You sigh, you don't want to.

You don't want to do anything.

  Suddenly, Noah twitches a bit, and makes a sound. Have you woken him up? You realize, as you see his eyes are still on autopilot, that you are going to have to put him to bed now, so you let him go, and push him in that direction carefully. When you're at the bed, he finishes the job himself, and wraps himself in the blanket, his eyes closing again. Standing by the bed, you breathe in and out for a while, before you feel warm tears rolling over your cheeks, and hear them dripping on the floor. All the life has disappeared from the room the moment he returned to bed. You can't remember to have ever felt so alone.

  You watch him sleep, as if you are hypnotized, and the mere sense of Noah sleeping is making you fall further and further in a dream, yourself. You know the sunlight is changing, and time is passing. But this room seems to be immune to it.

Then, after who knows how long, Noah blinks, and turns around, facing you. He blinks again, and zooms in on you. He seems to be at a loss as to where he is, in whose bed he has just woken up. You do not make any effort to enlighten him. He looks around, and his eyes return to you. Then, he smiles in recognition.

'Did I get up?' he asks curiously.

You nod.

'Did you hold me and put me back to bed?'

'Yes, I did.'

'I didn't hit you, did I? I do that sometimes...'

'No, you didn't.'

A grateful smile appears on his face, and he gets up and gives you a hug. 'Thank you so much, you really helped me out today.'

You think you should be happy with this hug, but you're not, not really. You have experienced a hug containing so much more love than this one that it's making you dizzy. And Noah doesn't remember it. He didn't even know what was going on when it happened to you both. The thought is like a ton of weight on your heart. And there is nothing that you can do about it.

  He keeps the smile on his face, every moment you still have together. He smiles as he explains he needs to take the bus to get home, he smiles as you offer to take him to the bus stop. He smiles gratefully when you bring him there, and he smiles sadly when he states this will be goodbye. You look in the direction the bus is supposed to appear, but it's not yet in sight. There is not a soul around, anyway. The bus stop is hidden behind a park at one side, and there is nothing but a big, empty company building at the other side.

'Thank you for the coat, and the shoes,' he says and smiles once more. 'I'll return them one time, I promise, okay?'

You have given him one of your old coats, and the shoes you used to wear at gym classes when you were fifteen. His feet are so much smaller than yours, they fit perfectly. You have given him your address and phone number so he can find you, and return them, even though you don't care and think he should have them. Even so, you are glad he has to come back, one day. You could never have let him go without an excuse to see him again.

  You check your watch. 'It should have been here by now,' you mumble.

You had never expected Noah to do this, but he does. He puts his arms around you and comes closer, and before you realize what he’s up to, he kisses you, right on your mouth, his eyes closed, his body so close to yours you can hardly breathe. Your skin seems to catch fire. You don't have the courage to answer his hug, and just keep on standing there, enjoying the unknown feeling of being kissed, sensing his warmth just like earlier this day. Every cell in your body seems to be on hyper-sensitive mode. Everything makes your head spin. Then, Noah lets you go, and just looks at you quietly. You don't say a word, either.

  The bus arrives, and both of you seem to be startled by the sound the engine makes, unaware of why you were standing here again.

'Do you have...'

'Yes. Don't worry.'

'Just...take care of yourself.'

'I will.'

'Well...see you.'

'Bye, Lewis.'

  He steps in the bus, you hear the sound of the falling coins as he's paying, and the thing drives off. It is only after it has disappeared from your sight that you realize the next stop of this bus is at least a mile away.

  As you enter your house, everything seems so vague and unreal. The only thing clear to you is the feeling of his lips on yours, that still remains.

    Thursday, the 9th of December 2010