RED MASK | raphael hamato

THREE.

You shiver in the cool October air. Around you, the city starts to slow down as the sky descends deeper still into night. 

You pull out your phone, checking the time. "Where is he?" you grumble to yourself. A message pops up on your phone:

April

Is he there yet? 

You

No

April 

 Let me know if he isn't

Or if he does come and he's mean to you

And I'll kick his ass

You snort. You don't want to discredit April, but you'd like to see her try. 

You

Lol thanks

"I'd like to see her try," a voice says from behind you. 

You fumble, dropping your phone. A blur of motion catches it, and then Red Mask is standing in front of you. 

"Here," he says, handing you your phone. 

"Why are you reading my messages over my shoulder, like a creep?" you complain, accepting the phone. "You couldn't just say hi?"

"I needed to make sure you weren't texting some cop buddies about how you're going to meet up with Red Mask." 

"I already told you," you say, annoyed. "I'm not friends with any cops."

"Uh-huh," Red Mask replies skeptically. "And I should trust you because...?"

You open your mouth, then close it again. "You have a point."  

To your surprise, that earns you a smile from him; a curve of white flashing out from under the darkness of his hood. Smugly, he says, "I always do." 

There's an awkward pause. 

"So," Red Mask says. You can see him folding his arms against the silhouette of his cloak. "How do you know April again?"  

"She's my classmate. We take Journalism together, which is where we met. Did she not already tell you this?" 

He eyes you. "It's just awfully convenient that you just so happen to be friends with one of the few humans I'm friends with."

"Humans?" You snort. "What, are your other friends inhuman or something? Are you secretly a crazy cat lady, and all your other friends are your pets?"

Weirdly enough, he jumps when you start talking, but then collects himself and returns to his glare. "Why are you telling me about your future?" 

"Hey, now, shut it," you warn, but you can't stop a grin from creeping across your face. 

"Thought you called me here 'cause you wanted me to talk. Now you want me to shut it? Make up your mind." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Well, I did, but do you wanna talk about yourself?" you fold your arms. "Because you haven't exactly indicated that it's something you're open to." 

He shrugged.

"Dude." 

He made a so-so gesture. 

"It's the entire reason I asked to meet up," you say, exasperated. "Which you knew beforehand, and agreed to. And you're chickening out now?" 

"Hey, I'm not chickening out," he glowers. "I just...need to make sure you're someone I can trust."

"How do I know you're someone I can trust?" you shoot back. "You've been nothing but sketchy as hell." 

"Hey, I saved your life!"

"After you threatened me!" you retort. "Besides, the Purple Dragons only threatened me because you were there!" 

He goes quiet suddenly. "I told you to stay away." He turns as if to go. "I don't know why I agreed to this."  

"Wait—" He pauses. You breathe deeply. In a calmer voice, you say: "How about this: you ask me five questions. Anything at all. I'll answer honestly. And then after that, you can decide if you trust me." 

He turns back towards you. "Only five questions?" 

"If I gave you an unlimited supply, we'd be here all night." 

He glares at you from under the hood, but steps closer to you again. "Fine. One: Are you stalking me?"

"Dude, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't even know where to start. You're like a freakin' ninja, or something."

He stiffens.

"What?" you ask.

"I've got my eye on you," he glowers.

"Yeah, I know. You wanna ask another question or not?"

"You swear you're not trying to catch me or get me in any legal trouble?"

You sigh. "Yeah. For the hundredth time, I swear."

"On?"

You squint. "Whaddaya want me to swear on? The Bible?"

He doesn't smile. "Swear on whatever matters the most to you. Whatever makes you tell the truth." 

You think. Not much matters to you anymore. But there's...there's still one thing. 

"Fine. I swear on—" Your voice chokes up. You blink away the tears that had started forming. Goddammit. You weren't planning to cry. You manage, "I swear on my grandmother's grave. I am not trying to get you into trouble." 

He's quiet for a long moment, looking away as you collect yourself. When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "How—how long has it been since she—"

"She died in May." You wipe your eyes. "My parents weren't...weren't around. She basically raised me."

Red Mask is quiet for another long moment, as you take rattling breaths to compose yourself, and then he says, "We can do the interview."

"Why," you say. "Because I got all teary-eyed and made you feel bad for me? Do you have a heart in there after all?"

"Shut up," he says, with no real anger. "Ask me a question, or some shit." 

"Fine." You flip open your notepad and look at your list of questions. "Why do you do this?" 

He blinks slowly. "What?"

 "Graffiti, I mean," you clarify. "Why do you do it?"

He tilts his head, considering. Sets his jaw and stares out over the twinkling lights of the city. Finally, he turns his piercing gaze on you, green eyes meeting yours. Something in your chest tightens, like your whole body is holding its breath.

"I do it," he replies. "Because I need to convince myself that the past year really happened. I need to remember the things we did and the things we had. and especially, I need to remember what we lost." he swallows. "I need to remember...who we lost."

The feeling in your chest tightens further, and before you can stop yourself, you say, "Me, too," and reach for his spray can. He doesn't move to stop you, only watches as you adorn the rooftop with paint, roughly forming the wrinkles of your grandmother's face, the laughter in and around her eyes and mouth, the shadow of her nose and silhouette of her hair. When you're done, the two of you survey your work. He takes the spray can from you, fingers brushing yours. Your eyes meet again, and you've never been so aware of your heartbeat.

"Wow," he says. "You are just full of surprises, huh?"

You're startled into laughter. It doesn't take long before he joins you, the sound of your laughs intertwining and echoing off of the empty rooftop. The rest of the night is spent in a similar vein; the two of you talking, your conversation tinged with both humor and sorrow, city lights twinkling below you like hope and your grandmother's spray-painted face smiling up at the two of you like a blessing.