Colours

t e n (his pov)

Things changed just as quick as a storm that was rolling in or maybe it had been brewing for a while and had already passed over and he was just now seeing the damage. Y/n really meant it when she said she would stay away. Their relationship at work was courteous and professional — just how he always wanted it — but achieving this way felt...rotten. He was lucky if he got even a glance from her.

Lucky? What the hell? Why was he thinking such a thing? Isn't this what he wanted? A life without her?

He shook his head as he pulled into his parents driveway and turned the car off, walking up the path of mismatched stones his father had put in. He was home for the weekend, due to his mother's insistence.

The nostalgic smell that was his mother's cooking filled his nose as he walked in and placed his bag by the door, instantly greeted by his parent's golden retriever, Molly, who hadn't quite learned boundaries yet as she was licking his face and jumping on him.

"Down, girl," he said as he wiped her slobber off with his sleeve and went into the kitchen, spotting his mother stirring something at the stove. He moved behind and gave her a hug, letting his chin rest on her soft shoulder.

"How was the drive?" She asked as she focused what was on the pot. He took a peek and it looked like some type of sauce.

"Uneventful," he responded. "Where's dad?"

"Out in that damn shed, tinkering away."

He looked out the kitchen window at the shed his father had built. It was a small wooden shed made with left over parts from their home renovation. His father turned it into his shop and fixed things or built them. He also hid away there when things got a little too overwhelming for him.

"You should go wash up," his mother suggested. "Dinner will be ready shortly."

He took her advice and headed upstairs, filled with even more nostalgia as he entered his old room and saw it was exactly how he had left it. He wasn't sure why his parents didn't turn it into a library or home office, utilize the space more efficiently but it was nice to see remnants of who he used to be. He walked to the window and opened the curtain, looking outside at the street he would often stare at but then something caught his eye. It was the dreamcatcher y/n had gotten for him. She had put this here after she heard him complain about not sleeping well. He didn't want to put it up at first but his mother insisted. Now he understood why he's been feeling so empty lately. No matter where he looked — his room or his memories, y/n was always present, in some shape or form.

Cutlery scraped against fine china as dinner went on in silence. He knew his mother wanted to ask him something — she always prepared some fancy dinner and made them all sit down whenever she had something to bring up. Usually, it would be about things that annoyed him like when was he going to settle down but this time felt different. The air in the room felt charged and he didn't exactly want to find out why.

He reached for his glass of water and washed down the lump that formed in his throat as he thought of what she could possibly bring up.

"So," his mother started. "Have you been in contact with y/n recently?"

And there it was.

He set his glass down and licked his lips. How should he answer? Should he tell the truth, that she barely spared him a glance these days? Or should be lie and say things were normal with her? No, he couldn't lie. His mother would pick up on that freakishly quick.