The Mad Ones (A One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter Seven - Colors

            “’Who the hell are you?” the man said, looking over at Harry. Harry gulped, looking back to me, but before he could [,if he was going to] answer, the man looked back towards me. “Oh never mind,” he muttered, running a hand through his white hair and then looking back towards me, “we’re running late.”

            “I’m sorry, but who the hell are you,” Harry asked, his tone not quite bitter, but not exactly amicable. He gave me a questionable look, as if I may know who the intruder was, but I was silent. I didn’t say I knew the ma, because I knew him, but it was a sense of déjà vu, and I knew the man in front of us from somewhere, but I didn’t know where.

            “Me?” he asked, blinking as he glanced down at his watch, one of those old ones with a big face and thick strap of leather. “I’m Harry White,” he introduced, and he tipped an invisible hat. As he bowed his head I noticed there wasn’t a ring of hair that was colored different from the rest. His white hair was natural, although I doubt he was over twenty-five. Stress I thought silently.

            If the situation weren’t what it was, I would’ve laughed. It wasn’t irony the two of them had the same name, but it felt something like it to me.

            “And you’re Alice,” Harry White said, keeping his nearly black eyes on me. My frozen neck somehow allowed me to nod. “Very good, very good,” he muttered to himself. It wasn’t lost on me that this man had barged in, and we were simply making small talk with him. Nor was it lost on me that he had known my name.

            “Was someone outside the door?” Harry asked, peering behind the new Harry to where his friend Louis should’ve been standing. Harry White shook his head, but his gaze never left me.

            “Now Alice, we mustn’t procrastinate in these matters,” he muttered, as if to himself. I wasn’t sure what the matters were, but they seemed important to him. “It’d be wise to come now, no dilly dallying,” he said, this time to me directly.

            “Dilly Dallying,” the original Harry muttered, a soft chuckle coming afterwards. His laughter was cut off as he looked up at the opposite Harry, who was looking intently at me. “You know him?” he asked me, but I didn’t say much. Actually, I hadn’t said anything since the new Harry entered the room.

            “No,” I said simply, my eyes caught on the boy … or man who had entered the room. He had one of those faces, the type that could be thirty or twenty.

            “Tsk Tsk, better not to lie, young Alice,” Harry White said, and I looked back at him, focusing in on his eyes. They were brown, a dark brown. I may have thought he had pink eye, but he didn’t. He was just tired. He wasn’t that different from everyone else. “Or should I say old?” he asked, again, more to himself than to me. “Or new …” he muttered with a thin smile.

            An uneasy emotion slipped through the room, but it was quickly cut off because of Harry White’s small shriek.

            “Alice,” he stage whispered, looking away from the Gemma’s brother, “we must be going Alice.”

            “Where?” Original Harry asked, to anyone and everyone that would answer his question.

            “Wonderland,” I muttered, the name escaping from my lips …

            Colors are different for everybody. We’ve been taught that blue is blue, and brown is brown, but it’s really different for everybody. For you the sky is a dark color that resembles sadness, and to you it’s hope. They say it’s hard to describe colors to someone’s who blind or who hasn’t seen something like it.