Re: Quiet Home: Misha & Oliver
Oliver thought of comfortable quiet as his late nights, alone with canvas and the empty echoes of that big house in the wood. Or quiet could be Jude's arms and a head on the shoulder, Jude's car on a long highway to the next adventure. He liked the name of this place for the same reason, the Quiet Home. Even if solitude terrified him.
Oliver made certain to ignore all of that talk of Misha liking him as a person, because he'd already qualified the boy as Crazy, which felt comfortable. Crazy people probably liked all sorts of bad stuff. "I don't want to talk to your doctors," again, insulted… but secretly worried, like he knew talking to those kinds of doctors would reveal something terrible that would likely get him or his brother both incarcerated. No, thank you.
The fiddle started up again, and the questions. Oliver scooched his chair nearer to the big window, and he didn't say anything for a long time while Misha played. The sun was getting lower, slowly slowly, and Oliver knew that he was going to be missing his brother's bonfire party. Jude wouldn't be sad, but probably worried, which was maybe worse.
"I'm not for screaming anything out. I'd rather not feel nothing at all. Not like anyone at all. Just be a statue one day, if I can."