discovering indigo. (finding sky by joss stirling)

chapter six

i am sitting on the floor in a bedroom. dark has swapped for light. the rain is beating its fists against the window. i listen to the tireless pounding, looking at the drear outside and i'm relieved that the moon has the decency to stay the hell away from here.

the first tears of old grief and of new grief too rise and push at my eyes. i squeeze my eyes shut until i see universe's in the dark. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

"are you okay?"

my eyes bolt open and everything has blurry edges.

he sits down next to me. all elegant and long limbed. back to the wall. i try and stop my eyes roaming. but even, in my totally stressed out state i can't help but look. i mentally roll my eyes at myself.

i watch him run his fingers through his hair that falls longer across his forehead. he turtles up, tucking his knees to his chest and resting his head in the crevice between them. he stares up at me and i am stuck by the rich blueness of his eyes like the colour of a vein and sharp like a cats.

a few centuries pass between us. two stone grey slabs listening to the rain beat its unholy clammer against the glass.

when the silence becomes too much, i half-joke 'are you supposed to be fraternising with the enemy?"

he tilts his head, "so you're the enemy now?" he squints his eyes and looks at me,"nah, don't see it."

he's charming me, even in my pitiful emotional state.

"are you mocking my ability to be the enemy?" i demand.

"nope. never."

"you so are."

"i am so not"

"you kidding? first you come crash my solitude and now, you criticise my ability as an enemy. where were you raised?"

"america." he says. "we aren't particularly tactful." he shifts his position so his legs stretch out in front of him. he goes on. "but, i've been all over the place, really. you know, helping my brothers and all that."

i don't know, actually, i have no brothers' and sisters'. when i was younger, i yearned for another sibling. someone i could play cards with and have dance competitions until the carpet was damaged with jumping. a friend in a bed across the hall who could make the dark a little less scary.

"favourite place you've visited?" i ask, surprising myself.

"italy." an immediate reaction. he bats his spider-leg-long eyelashes at me.

"why?"

"hmm" he pretends to ponder, stroking an imaginary beard with a dramatic flair. he clicks his fingers in a 'eureka moment' and says "i like the view," he stares at me.

"oh, very smooth." i laugh. "do you use that on all the foreign girls?"

he covers his face with his hands, which is totally cute. "can't believe i actually said that." he groans. he gives me a side-ways glance. " i give you the rights to enforce pain right now."

"not chancing it." i shake my head. " you might do something equally scary."

"i can sense danger." he tilts his head. "not so scary, huh?"

"no way, so much better than my gift. i'd like to see you sniffing out danger like a dog on a scent."

he puts his nose to the air and sniffs dramatically. "hell yeah." he exclaims. "you could come help me, use some jacky-chan-pain-on-them."

we exchange a quick, searching glance, each wondering about the other, surprised at the easy rapport-it's just a moment- barely noticeable, like a leaf falling in your hair.

he looks like he's going to speak again and i want to push him. but he rises his body slightly and i think he's going to get up. i am surprised that i'm disappointed when i realise he's leaving. one hand disappears into his jean pocket.

a silver necklace hangs between us, swinging like an instrument of hypnosis.

"here" he says, and i open my palm and the chain makes a pattern like a snail shell in my hand. i stare at the piece of jewellery. "it's yours, isn't it?"

i shrug. "my grandmother's." he waits for me to say something else. there is a hesitation. a silence. i think of my grandmother pulling at the chain around her neck and handing it to me on my fourteenth birthday.

"it's pretty." he laughs, seemingly unaware of the bomb he's just activated. "not that i know much about girl stuff."

i can feel the necklace digging into my skin, i can hear my grandmother's voice echoing in my mind. i can feel the run-away train of my memories crashing and burning.

i remember the house i had done so much growing up in, the landscape i knew with a blind fold on, it was engraved into who i was. a place where i had ran through fields, blood red poppies catching my legs. where christmas' had been celebrated and birthday presents had been opened with bated breath. where i had laughed, and cried and lived.

i think of my grandmother, when she was close to the end. how she had clasped my hand. it was white, drained of colour as if someone had hoovered up her life when i was looking the other way. but her eyes were still alive, she caught me with them like a fish in a net. i couldn't look away. "promise me something, indigo."

"anything." i said. "i will promise you anything."

she nodded, a smile hesitating over her lips. she squeezed my hand. "kill the benedicts."

[i literally did this so fast, i am sorry, if it doesn't make sense. also, thank you for like, 1k readers!! i love anyone who has taken the time to read this]