This. This was the day I had been destined to become the lord of this house. No one would stop me as I'd cause devastation and leave scorching fire behind my heavy steps. This house would burn down fast along with its unsuspecting owner.
I'd be the king of this peasantry!
"You!" - I pointed at the owner, just as he walked into the kitchen - "You shall surrender to the flames that I will leave in my wake! You shall burn, BURN I say!"
The bored Galacta yawned in my direction, ignoring my display of sheer masculinity and bravery towards the bad monster that was him. He just arrogantly pushed my pointing finger away, lazily walking over to the coffee machine and pressing a few random buttons out of routine to see the sickly brown liquid gather inside the cup under the 'tap'.
I growled quietly - I hated being ignored. And, seeing as Galacta was slowly warming up to my antics, it allowed him more leeway into not taking me seriously even more. A man just wanted to have some fun, gosh, what was the problem?
Once the aforementioned cup was full, I saw Galacta take it away with him to the dinner table where a fresh, still smelling of print and ink, newspaper was waiting for him. Still not acknowledging me, he placed the cup on the table in front of him and sat down, reading the newspaper. His eyes were so tired they still didn't adjust to the morning light, and he was instead still reading through incomprehensible slits. Gosh, that must have been uncomfortable.
I was wondering how I could wake him up.
I put on the most convincing frown I could, and forced my eyes to bleed with tears as I laid on the ground next to Galacta's legs, screaming in pain.
"Oh Galacta, I am in need! Save me, my prince charming!"
After taking a gulp of his coffee, the man briefly glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. I thought that this was the moment he'd fall for the trap and help me get up, but he ignored my shrieks of demand and instead returned to his paper.
It took two seconds for me to lose my patience - as I said, no one could ignore me. I, Nova, was the most important man on this earth and I was not going to be ignored by anyone, especially this run-of-the-mill peasant.
I gotta admit, he had nice eyes though.
But that's beside the point! In no time at all, my hands were clasped around his two hairy legs and I started to pull him off the chair. He didn't react until he had completely slid off and fell on the ground with a dramatic onomatopoeic sound somewhat similar to glass being dropped to the floor. By then I had left his side and I dashed out of the kitchen in excited panic, knowing that he'd chase after me judging by what he always did when I disrupted his breakfast.
Watching from outside the kitchen, my head poking into the doorway, he was sitting in a weirdly twisted position and his head was slowly raising until his eyes met my own. His face bore the most devious smirk I've ever seen from him, his irises ready for murder at any second.
"Nova... you do not mess with me."
I didn't reply in the slightest as he stood up and walked over to the closest kitchen shelf, which was, coincidentally, the cutlery drawer. He opened that one in a flash and, out of it, he slowly dragged out the largest knife in our possession, his maniacal expression reflected in the blade that gleamed under the half-dim kitchen lights. I've never been afraid of Galacta in my whole life - he was a dormant man who loved to stay silent. He liked to listen to people talk but didn't talk about himself at all. I always thought of that as a sly move, having a weapon in case your friends turn against you and if you turn against them then they have nothing, but as we became closer, I learned that it wasn't about gossip at all. His character was like that. In my family, people said that whenever a person is abnormally silent is usually when they are planning your murder.
C'mon, what dummy actually plans a murder out loud? They probably didn't watch enough film noir to know that that isn't effective at all.
Although Galacta being a bit more expressive would have allowed me to know why this was happening, I mused to myself as shudders rocked my body from side to side. I didn't even know what to think when Galacta started creeping towards me at a frighteningly slow pace. And he was smiling, baring his teeth at me in a display of real evil. I tried running through the Shakespearian book in my hands but I saw nothing useful, even about 'slaying thy villain'. It was just useless insults that wouldn't be of good use at all.
Hell, I had no weapons and my best friend was about to murder me. Nova, your life was looking very bright at this point. It's all that damn karma, I bet, I thought grimly to myself, noticing that Galacta was only about twenty inches away.
Yes, I have an extremely trained brain in terms of measurements, not that it matters.
Soon, we were both outside the kitchen, the large knife still in Galacta's shaking hands. Judging by the look in his eyes and my position of being pinned against our corridor's wall, he would have no regrets about eliminating me at all.
Hm, one just wonders what goes inside that guy's brain sometimes.
His smile was horrifyingly widening as one of his hands encircled my throat, pushing me against the wall so much I could barely breathe. I didn't understand any of this. I didn't understand what was happening as the imposing blade of his knife was nearing towards my scalp, his face absolutely ready for what was going to happen.
I, on the other hand, didn't receive at least two weeks' notice, and I wasn't ready at all. Even though I was being slowly suffocated into unconsciousness, I cautiously raised the Shakespearian book and quickly hit his face with it, making him lose grip on my neck and fall onto the floor, dropping his knife onto the carpet and massaging his forehead.
"Ha, die, villain! ...or something that the Shakespearians would say."
Before he had a chance to recover, I ran to the room on my right, judging the rest of the house inaccessible since I wouldn't want to be tripped up by Galacta's feet and stabbed to death. I was treating this incident like a game of cat and mouse, and that's what allowed me to deal with this situation. Otherwise I would have collapsed and cried like a baby. Literally.
Tripping over piles of my clothes on the ground, I was desperately reaching for the balcony door handle which was on the other side of the room. If I got to the balcony I would be able to climb down the block, and I'd be completely safe. Earlier this year, I bought new triple-glazed windows, and thus anyone with fairly normal, 20-year-old-male fists wouldn't even be able to make a scratch on them. He wouldn't be able to catch me, let alone attack me. Safe, safe from that knife and Galacta too. I loved him, he was my best friend, but at this point he needed serious mental help.
Once I reached the handle, both of my hands enclosed around it like a blessing from God and I started to push it upwards in order to open the damn doors.
It didn't budge.
As I heard Galacta's echoing steps, I pushed harder on the handle, the sweat making my hands slide out of control. I tried to calm down but the raising panic within me made me stress even more, like magma ascending inside a volcano, close to exploding. And his steps were so phlegmatic, so heavy, like the loud thumps of my desperated heart. When he was only a metre away I started to bang on the balcony window, very damn well knowing that I was fool to get that damn triple glazing. But maybe my raw power was enough. I mentally prayed to God, asking for anything, literally anything before I felt Galacta's alarming breath on my shoulder. His hands instantly pushed me at the glass doors just my manly tears started to drip from eyes uncontrollably.
I didn't want it to end like this. I was so young, we were so young, so much to see, I didn't know I needed him so much until now.
"Galacta, look... we've been friends for so long, you know how much I love you, this can't end like this!"
After processing my melancholic statement, Galacta's expression suddenly softened and he started to laugh. Y'know, release this kind of nice, gentle giggle that Galacta always used whenever I cracked a good joke around him. I exhaled in relief, patting the man on his shoulder and laughing in fear along with him. I had never felt so played in my entire life.
"Hey, g-good joke Galacta! Honestly..."
Wordlessly, Galacta's hands left my stomach they were pressing into the window moments ago and instead opened themselves invitingly. Aw, he wanted a hug. The guy was as silent as always and that's normal. Normal. That's what I really wanted to be around him from now on. All those tricks and pranks would soon contribute to high blood pressure or a heart attack.
Led by relief and affection, I walked straight into Galacta's embrace and felt a cold, should I say stabbing sensation in my stomach.
Promptly, I dropped to the ground, my vision going blurry in no time at all. I was struggling to breathe, eyeing the infamous kitchen knife that was wedged into my stomach, which was spewing blood onto the ground in waterfalls. Im seconds, I became nothing but a pool of red as a happily smiling Galacta lowered himself to my level and started to press the knife deeper into my stomach, making more scarlet liquid burst out from under my skin. He looked so cheerful, retrieving the Shakespearian dictionary I hit him with and quickly sifting through its pages until he stopped about midway, just as I was about to take my final breath. He slammed the book closed with a sincere grin.
"'Tis safer to be that which we destroy, than in destruction dwell in doubtful joy.'"