I sniffled, gazing at my lap in shame, tracing the image of a cartoon lime with my thumb upon an unopened soda can. "Leemer's Lime Blast" it was called. A soda brand I had never seen before.
Audible slurping overtook the silent car as Claude chugged down his drink, his attention purely focused on the road. It was as if my little embarrassing hiccup at the gas station had never happened. As if the comic that the lady at the register had slipped me was nothing significant.
I guess it wasn't. And perhaps he already knew that. It wasn't like I had a phone to dial the secret number with. And it wasn't like I had the willpower to try.
What would change if I did?
Nothing.
I was still in the beginning of the comic, before the world was saved. Before it was put into any real danger, in fact. The government, as the city of Rossenwood knew it, was currently falling apart. Corruption was running rampant and crimes were spiking in intensity. What was one more crime added to the mix?
And let's say, for argument's sake, that I did call and they did pursue the case. What then? It wasn't like they could send me back home.
To my real home...
I glanced at the side of Claude's face. I tapped my index finger upon the can in thought.
"Do you miss it?" I tentatively asked.
"Home?" Claude accurately guessed.
"Yes."
"Sometimes." Claude admitted.
I paused, shocked.
Were we... having a moment? Was Claude opening up? I thought Claude was an emotionally closed off character...
"But, I miss the times we shared compared to the location." Claude gave a slight smile. "I can never forget that one time my mother and I tried to bake cookies together."
Claude released a slight, almost sorrowful chuckle. "We both didn't know what we were doing. She never really cooked before and I was too young at the time to even read."
I struggled to swallow the lump forming in my throat.
"So there we were, in the kitchen, just messing around, trying to read a cook book." Claude laughed, fully, this time. "I remember I kept on trying to color in all the circles in the text. I don't know why--I just figured they'd look nicer filled in."
He took another sip of his pop before continuing. "I'm trying to read! Stop dipping your hands in the flour!" He mockingly said, no doubt trying to mimic his mother.
He laughed once more. "I didn't stop. I figured I'd show her the finished product and she'd understand what I was trying to achieve."
He paused, gripping the steering wheel.
"By the time we were done, we had made blobs of half cooked dough that didn't come close to tasting like a cookie.
"Honestly, it tasted more like an extremely salty bread dough..."
His grip around the steering wheel tightened.
"Before she... left... she admitted that she just wanted to try out a stereotypical family moment for once before she... handed me over. And... she regretted it."
I gulped, dread filling my stomach.
"She hated that I never listened. She compared me to my father, her ex-husband. Said I couldn't do anything right and had ruined that moment for her..."
Silence filled the car.
"What about your coloring?" I whispered.
"Ugly piece of shit." Claude answered. He paused for a brief moment before finishing. "I liked it, though... It was colorful. A bit of flour, melted chocolate chips, a bit of egg yolk... Looked kinda like polka dots."
I fiddled with the can in my hands, unsure what to say.
"What about you? You got something you can't forget?"
"My father's smile." I muttered. Not Darron's smile, my real father's smile. "It was a tired smile most of the time, but it was a smile nonetheless."
"I... I wish I could say the same." Claude sighed. "I thought she was smiling at the time, but... I guess she wasn't."
I cracked open the can of soda, listening to the fizz crackling inside of the can.
"I guess the moral of my story was... try not to forget the good stuff. Even if it was at the expense of others. It'll be the only thing keeping you going."
I chewed on the dead skin on my lip, the taste of stale copper overtaking my tongue.
This...
This entire conversation made me realize that I knew nothing about Claude. I thought I did, with what the comic showed me, but it seems like I barely scratched the surface.
It seems like the story he told was the truth. After all, in the comic it was revealed that Claude's mother was a single mother at the time trying to make it through. When the finances kept piling up, and the conditions kept on getting worse for Claude, she sold him off to The Pawn in exchange for some quick cash.
Similar to Darron...
It was after The Pawn was done shaping her victims that the House of Thorn was created.
The House of Thorn was where I was going and was the very place that Claude was a "teacher".
I lifted the can of soda to my lips, the sweet scent of citrus filling my nose as I took a sip. I savored the mellow sweetness bursting on my tongue, closing my eyes. It took a couple of seconds before I gathered the willpower to swallow.
Honestly, it was like drinking fire.
The fizzling liquid dragged down my throat, almost as if I had swallowed a bunch of twisted needles. Each burst of a carbonated bubble stabbed into the walls of my sore throat, leaving a searing burn that lingered. I bent over and began to retch, tears streaming down my face.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Claude commented.
"Yes." I croaked between sputtering coughs.
"Focus on the flavor." Claude took another sip of his drink. "You'll get used to it after a while."
I focused on breathing through the pain, peering out through the windshield. We were still traveling through the dark, but the faint outline of a tall building could now be seen just beyond the horizon.
A spark of fear lurched from within at the sight. However, strangely enough, just a glance at the side profile of Claude's face was enough to settle my anxiety somewhat.
Why was that? Why did Claude have such an effect on me?
I peeked into the can within my grasp, almost as if I could catch a glimpse of the translucent liquid within if I stared hard enough. But instead, what gazed back at me was a void of darkness.
A void of darkness that I couldn't pierce through...
***
It took a while before we reached our first stop. By then, the rain had begun to settle down to a steady drizzle; the sky brightening to a soft blue. We had stopped in front of a cozy little breakfast place called: "Berry's". How did I know it was a breakfast place? Well, it was a frequent point of interest that multiple characters in the comic visited on their journey, one way or another. Be it to grab a simple cup of coffee, to plan a certain night's raid, or simply to duke it out between Villains, this was the place.
Also, the big, bold neon text that hung over one of the windows that read: "Breakfast Club" was hard to miss.
Seeing as this breakfast place was just about on the outskirts of the city, it was understandable that this was a place most frequently visited by those with secrets.
I guess it was fitting, in a sense, that my first stop would be here: the place where nothing and everything happens all at once.
Claude lazily stretched, letting out a slight yawn. "Well kid, ready?"
I nodded my head. "Yeah." I replied, my eyes locked on the glass double doors of the restaurant. Despite my answer, to be honest, I was a bit hesitant. I never for a second believed I would ever be able to visit a restaurant that all the main characters ate at. The prospect was a bit... intimidating...
Maybe I'll finally be able to try York's Famous Double Chocolate Pancakes? Or maybe Austin's favorite hamburger with extra ranch? Or... a slice of Fervor's favorite Cloudy Strawberry Cake?
I chewed on my lip once more, fighting back the sudden nostalgia.
"Well, let's go." Claude instructed, exiting the vehicle. I quickly followed, trailing behind his back.
By the time we reached the doors, and just when Claude grasped the metal handle, I couldn't resist the urge any longer. "Hey, Claude?"
"What?" Claude turned his head back to look me in the eye.
"Is it ok if we get something to eat? Before you go?"
Claude raised an eyebrow. "Sure?" He then furrowed his brows questioningly, as if realizing something. "How did you know I was planning on leaving you here?"
My heart lurched inside my throat as I hastily answered. "Intuition." I lied. "It didn't seem like you'd stay here long."
"Right..." Claude studied me for about two seconds before opening the door. "Well then, you have great intuition for being so young."
"Thank you."
Together, we stepped inside.