Monochrome Desire

Part 1.

I yawn, attempting to blink the sleep out of my eyes. Light creeps through the small gap between my curtains, slightly illuminating my small room. Today is everybody's last day of studying before our month-long winter break starts. I slowly scan my room, searching for my laptop. I find it under the clothing I wore yesterday night and pick up the pile, still carrying the scent of last night's bonfire with it. I open my computer to see that I've received an IM from Scarlet. Meet us at 3:15 at the bridge. My friends saw themselves as rebellious, but I sometimes viewed them as everyone else did, a bunch of idiots. Why did they think doing any of this would be a good idea? One wrong move and all of us could end up in huge trouble. I quickly message her back. I'll be there. I log into my cyber school account and click on my last final. An essay. "What is the most compelling thing you have learned this year? How might it affect your future?" I don't dare to type my actual answer to the question. They wouldn't approve. I put minimal effort into the last few paragraphs of the essay and submit it. It doesn't matter what grade I get on these finals anyways, it's my last year. I glance at the clock. 2:00 pm. I'm not surprised to have woken up this late. I was out until 3:00 am, and couldn't fall asleep until around 7:00 am due to the thoughts that I couldn't prevent from roaming through my head. Another IM from Scarlet shows up on my screen. I forgot to tell you, Brent's gonna come too. I nervously bite my lip. Crap. I can't show up like this. I'm a mess as a result of last night, my hair tangled from the cold winter wind blowing through it, my mascara and eyeliner smudged. I hurry to the bathroom and shower, removing the smoky scent from my body. I stand in front of the mirror once I change into a somewhat decent outfit. Emotionless gray eyes stare back at me. My shirt is a different shade of gray than the rest of my outfit, and I suddenly feel self conscious. I wonder what Brent would think. He always snickers and tells us that our clothing doesn't even remotely match when he sees us. He tries to explain the colors of our eyes and hair to us. But it's all impossible to describe. Brent had apparently been touched. He was walking through the city and his hand brushed against somebody else's. He claimed to see colors that we could only dream of seeing. He still seemed disappointed that he could never find out who the person he touched was, while I was disappointed that it wasn't me. I had always thought that Brent would be my soulmate. We had been best friends since elementary school. We used to go to public school, but the risk of touching was soon discovered, and all schools were modified to become cyber schools. When I looked close enough, it seemed like his eyes had the slightest tint of color in them. I couldn't ever identify what it was. Maybe I was imagining it. Brent complained to us that with time, the colors he could see had started to fade. I pull on the darkest hoodie I own, hoping that it's black. Brent won't be able to say anything about it. It's 2:45. The walk to the bridge will take me 15 minutes at most. I can't eat. My stomach is in knots. They normally advise us to walk with another person, but I walk alone regardless. I avoid looking at the house across the street. The house Brent would sneak out of late at night. The house Brent ran away from when he was touched. I couldn't bear to talk to his parents anymore. It was impossible for me to lie to them, so I had others do it for me. I walk slowly, attempting to find some sort of beauty in this bland world. I can't help thinking that everything would be beautiful if I was walking with Brent and not alone right now.