INDIGO

PART SIX

I slowly walked Indigo to my room, holding his hand as I guided him through the halls and up the stairs. He seemed really shy and awkward here. I found it pretty funny, but, at the same time, it made me feel like there was more to him I didn't know. I opened my room's door, a bit embarrassed by the mess, and let him walk in before me.

"Wanna choose your clothes?" I said, pushing him towards my closet and away from my storm of a room. I pulled the string for the light and Indigo jumped a little when it flashed on. I snickered, before starting to rummage through my hung shirts. "We've got... superheroes... rock bands I hardly know... oh! Do you like Roki?!" I pulled out a dark blue shirt with a picture of a band performing on it, flinging it in front of him. "It's my favorite song from my favorite band! I went to a concert a long long time ago and got this shirt. I got it big so I could grow into it, but I'm still not big enough..."

"Indigo...?" he muttered, grabbing a piece of the shirt and feeling its texture. "Huh? Oh, yeah, that's almost indigo, but more like navy. Not purple enough for indigo!" I smiled, feeling happy even though we weren't really communicating. He smiled back though, tugging the end of the shirt to show he liked it. I let him hold it while I got some shorts for him to wear, humming the song from the shirt. I guess I picked up a lot of habits from my mom back then.

I thought a little before taking him to the bathroom, and decided to let him borrow an extra pair of swim trunks too, just to make the bath less... weird, pfft. I showed him to put them on and let him change in the closet, he came out quickly and walked really oddly, like he was uncomfortable in them. "Hahahah! It's only for a little, I promise!" I giggled, as he looked back at me with a sour expression. His little attitude made me really happy; I felt closer and closer to him the more humor we could exchange.

The bath was short, though Indigo pouted about having to get out, making it a bit of a struggle to get him to change into the clothes. Even so, we managed, and it turned out, kids who weren't looked after during their early childhood were just as intelligent as any other kid. They learn fast, and they mostly listen, they can understand emotions and have a lot of their own, they're silly, and pretty tough, but, most of all, they're precious. Or maybe that's just Indigo, to me.

My mom asked me to take out the laundry from the dryer,so Indigo followed me downstairs, looking really comfortable in the baggy shirt and fresh shorts. 'How long has it been since he's worn different clothes?' I wondered. I started grabbing clumps of warm clothes from the dryer and dumping it into a plastic basket. When I dropped a sock or two, Indigo would grab it quickly and throw it into the basket too. Eventually, we started messing around and trying to race in who could grab what fell first. It got so competitive, he started trying to catch stuff mid air, and I would bump his shoulder to move him out of the way. BOOF! I had accidentally pushed him a little too hard, and he fell directly into the basket of clothes!

"Hottt..." he uttered, burying himself deeper into the pile. "Indigo! Hahahaha! You're lucky you just washed up, or you'd be dirtying all those clothes!" I threw a shirt on his back and giggled. I was reminded of how my cousins and I used to chase each other around and play pranks on our parents when we used to live together years before then. I really missed having people my age to play with all the time. "Indigo- er.. You really need a nickname. How about... Indie? Like, Indiana Jones!" I sat down by the basket. He didn't respond, just snuggling into the warm mass.

"Indie!" I called out, and he lifted his head. "You gotta respond, like 'Yeah?' or 'What?', so people know you're listening," I said, nodding my head like I was the master of communication. I clarified, "Say, 'Yes?', when I say your name" and he nodded back. "Indigo?" I inquired, as he smiled, and sat up, whispering "Yesss?" He really liked dragging out words like that, it was adorable. I lifted my hand for a high-five and he slapped it hard, just like I taught him.

"Up, up, we gotta finish," I said, pulling his arm. He groaned, stepping out of the bin and flopping onto the cold hard-tile floor of the laundry room. I threw the rest of the clothes in and heaved the basket up, it being a little too wide for me to carry it out without wobbling a little. I opened the door with my foot, like always, and stumbled out to bring the basket to the guest room, where my mom always folded everything, and where she had her home-office set up.

"East, dad's gonna be home soon, so start setting the table, baby," she said from her desk as I started to walk out of the guest room. "Yerp," I responded, sticking out my tongue. She smiled and did it back with a, "Blehh." I turned around, still smiling, and Indigo was imitating us, sticking his tongue out with the silliest grin. His face was bright with color and his posture was upright, his hair, though messily cut, was clean and full, and I couldn't help but let my heart swell a little. For a second, I felt like I was looking at a regular old kid, who'd grown up with love and care, who'd played tag and hide and seek, who'd hated school and chores, who'd laughed at fart jokes. "What's your real name?" I said, standing right outside the room.

"Indigo," he said, still smiling stupidly, and wiggling his hands a bit, playfully. I frowned, stepping past him to the kitchen with a sigh caught in my breath. He kept following me as I went to grab cups from the cupboard. "Could you quit that? You're not a dog," I snapped meekly. "Easton! Don't speak to your friend like that!" My mom shouted from the room, which the both of us flinched at. "I'm sorry...," I blushed, looking away from him, who was confused. I assume he walked away then, though I didn't look back.

I was sitting at the set table playing games on my tablet, when I heard the door open and my dad walk in. "Oh! You East's friend?" I heard him say. I got up, suddenly reminded that Indie was probably wandering around since I shooed him off. I sped to the entrance to find Indigo huddled on the couch and my dad repeating himself. "Uhh.. Right, he doesn't speak a lot of English," I recalled what I had told my mom. "Yeah? Does he speak Spanish? Hola!" he turned back to him. I snorted, saying, "No, dad- I actually dunno what he speaks," I reached up and slapped his back.

"I knew it! He's way too white to-" "Dad!! Oh my gosh, you and mom share the same brain cell!" I bursted out laughing. I heard Indigo start snickering too, though I knew for sure he had no idea what we were saying. "Oops, did he understand that?" My dad covered his mouth. "Naw, he's just a laugher," I stepped to Indigo and sat by him on the couch. "Noice, bud," he responded absently, putting up his coat before walking to the kitchen. "Why's he so beat up?" He shouted from the distance, still keeping up conversation.

We talked a bit through rooms before Indie and I were called for dinner. My little grumpy mood swing was gone as fast as it came, and I knew us two had a lot ahead of us.