Colors//m.c

Seven

    {Please read authors note at the end}

The ride is silent, and I'm mostly just praying he doesn't take me anywhere and kill me.

Things like that happen.

"We're just going to run a few errands for my dad, if that's alright?" He looks to me for confirmation. Which, I nod.

I peeked over at the guy, who's sitting in the drivers seat, his green eyes locked on the road. His knuckles gripping the steering wheel tightly, and that's when I notice the different color of his hair. 

Its black, with literally a few different patches of a dark purple.

Literally, patches.

I smiled a bit, at his choice, not taking my eyes off of him , even when he glances over at me.

"Almost there." He speaks after a second, and that's when I notice where we are.

He pulls into a cluster of apartments, and parks in front of the first building, labeled Building A.

He unbuckles, and takes long strides towards the building, and I sit there. Was I supposed to follow him? He glances back, obviously surprised I wasn't coming. He motions for me to follow, and I hurry to unbuckle, and scramble to catch up with the slightly taller character.

Its still raining, the thick drizzle dampening all of me, and its hard to avoid the already forming puddles on the cracked concrete.

He's already at the glass doors, which are littered with several smeared fingerprints, but overall, it doesn't look too bad.

Inside, we are in a lobby-type room, with overstuffed speckled armchairs, and a shiny marble floor.

The inside is clean, and everything seems to be gray. I look at Michael to see what he's doing but his eyes are trained on me.

"So where are we going?"

He points upwards, silent, and then starts wandering towards the elevator, which was placed across the lobby type room. He presses a button pointing up, and soon, the elevator stops with a ding.

Were both quiet as the elevator climbs up slowly, creaking loudly, and we both make an attempt to not look at each other. Theres something about that that just would feel weird. I'm grateful for when the elevator comes to a stop, and Michael reaches into his coats pocket, and his thin fingers come out cradling a ring of keys.

The hallway we come to a stop at, is long, and like the rest of the building, gray, and had a seemingly empty feel to it. Its like nobody lives there.

"I'm just picking up sheets that I have to take to get washed.  Then I can take you home.", Michael says, quieter than normal. There was something about the building that made you want to stay silent. I nodded, it was fine with me, its not as if I wanted to go home.

I follow him down the carpeted hallway, our footsteps making barely any noise, and he uses a silver key to open the door, which is thick, and hard to push open.

Inside the apartment, its eery, and like the rest of the building,  silent. The walls are painted a modern blue and green pattern, which is a nice change from the rest of the gray apartment's demeanor. The floors are wooden, and shiny, and I stand by the door, as Michael ducks into a room, where he comes out a second later with a bundle of sheets.

Its like nobody lives here, and I don't know how to feel about that. Should I even care?

As if reading my mind, Michael speaks, pulling the sheets closer to him. "Not a lot of people live here. I wouldn't want to. Its too depressing. My life is depressing enough. I just come here for my fathers business."