Angels Of Darkness

Sneaking Out

Once I got outside, Grey's brow furrowed.
"You've been crying," He observed. 
"I'm fine," I said simply. I wasn't about to share personal information with a complete stranger.
"Why didn't you answer the front door? I knocked."
"I can't come out of my room." I made up a quick lie. "I'm grounded. And my parents are busy, so I guess that's why they didn't come to the door."
He laughed. "Why are you grounded?" He asked. He walked me over to his car as I stared uneasily at the house, worried someone would come outside at any second and make a scene.
"Um...detention. They found out I got some detentions. That's all. Where are we going, again?"
"Anywhere you want. The world is your oyster. I thought you might want to get out." He held open the passenger side door, and I got in, then he got in the driver's seat and pulled out of my driveway.
I shrugged and stared out my window.
"So, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm good. Just tired."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Your makeup is smeared and your eyes are red. That doesn't exactly scream 'tired'."
"Well, I am tired."
He smiled at me. "Where are we headed?"
"I don't care, honestly. As long as I don't have to socialize with anyone."
"I can work with that."
He drove for a while, and the car was completely silent besides his crackling car speaker playing rock music turned down so I could hardly hear it.
I decided to break the silence as he turned onto the freeway.
"Why are you nice to me?" I asked quietly, not looking at him but straight ahead.
"I don't know. You seem like a nice person. And you're always alone, so I decided to try and keep you company."
"Are you lying? That's all?"
"I'm not lying. I promise." He hooked his pinkie in mine, one hand on the steering wheel.
I eyed him suspiciously, but I didn't respond.
He pulled up to an art museum where no one ever visited. I had never been because it costed money, which I didn't have. All I had money for was gas for my motorcycle.
"How does this look? No one's here, so you don't have to socialize." He looked over at me.
I looked at the building searching for anything suspicious, like anyone from school that might be waiting there for me. I didn't see anything, so I moved my gaze over to him.
"Okay," I said. "But if you're planning anything that you haven't mentioned, you're going to regret it."
"I'm not. Don't worry." He got out of the car, then I followed suit, and I followed him to the front doors of the old, brick art museum.
"Why are you scared?" He asked as we walked in.
"I'm not. What makes you think that?"
"You look scared. I mean, you look scared all the time but also now. Why?"
"I'm not scared; I'm just observant and cautious of everything around me. It isn't fear."
We went inside, and he paid for our entry.
"I get that. Honestly, I'm the same way, but I don't look terrified all the time." He grinned, and I warmed a little at his smile. I almost liked having an acquaintance. We weren't doing anything particularly fun, and we barely knew each other, but I liked having someone to share the evening with, even though it was awkward and a little weird.
I was surprised that the art museum was void of any people except for us. It was lovely. There were sculptures, oil paintings, free coffee...
"I like this one. It's my favorite," Grey said, gesturing to a painting of an old man in a fedora. He was lying in a bed staring up at the ceiling. In the walls, you could barely tell, there were faces and bodies reaching out as if they were trying to escape, while the old man seemingly pretended to not notice them.
"Why?" I asked, gazing at the painting interestedly.
"Well, my family is basically a bunch of Christians. I lost my faith a few years ago because I felt like it was a waste of time, begging to someone who probably didn't even care about me. I mean, how could he care about each individual when there are so many? There are billions of people. This painting reminds me of that. All of these people he can barely see, begging for something, and he just stares off like he doesn't even notice them. There are too many to care for, so why try to do anything for them?"
I nodded. "I understand what you mean. And it's such a beautiful painting."
"It really is."
I walked with him throughout the museum, drinking bitter, lukewarm coffee. I had a bit of understanding now with him. He was creative and intellectual. What I learned was that he truly cared about the universe, and he truly cared about every person he met. He read into things most people wouldn't even stop to look at, and that was really cool. He was my one and only acquaintance.
Since I'd met Grey, the letters stopped. I never received them anymore. I thought he might be the sender of them, but I didn't want to ask. I liked to just listen to him talk about everything else. He talked about art, science, love, family, aliens--everything. And I liked to listen to someone who saw the universe like I did. Completely infinite, with infinite possibilities. He thought the way I did, and he wanted to share that with me. I didn't want to mess that up by opening my mouth, so I just listened with genuine interest.
"So, what about you?" He asked.
"Me? What do you mean?"
"Tell me about you. Your family, likes, dislikes..."
"My family is small. I like cheese pizza. I do not like brussel sprouts."
He laughed loudly. "What kind of music do you like?"
"I love all kinds. But I love the same kind of music you like. I don't want to get my sub-genres confused, so let's just stick with 'bands' as my genre."
"Bands like what?"
"Motionless In White. Blessthefall. Sleeping With Sirens." I blushed.
"That's rad. You know, I feel like we have a lot in common; you just talk less than me."
"Maybe so." I gave him another small smile. He was okay.