Red and Gray

Cloudy Day

Grayson O'Shea zipped his hoodie down. The thing felt stuffy, and he was surprised that his hair wasn't sticking up from the static, given that he'd been wearing it for sixteen straight hours.

He stood on the porch, his duffel bag at his feet, staring at a sheet of upright wood decorated with stained glass. It was locked, and it should be. It was two in the morning.

He had a key, of course, but he couldn't explain to himself why he wouldn't use it.

Instead, he raised his healed fist and knocked on the door, and winced anyway.

It flew open almost immediately. "Gray!" his mother squealed. She'd probably been waiting up for him. Immediately, her warmth washed over him, even though he couldn't meet her eyes.

Not because he was angry, but because he was chastened. He knew she'd fought against him leaving, tried to change his dad's mind, but her magic hadn't worked this time. His resentment and his anger spent a year being beaten out of him.

Now he just felt hollow. There was an empty space inside him where his fight had been.

How fucking ironic.

"Hey, Mom," he said, willingly tugged down and embraced. He was much taller than her now.

"Oh, look at you!" she said, tilting his face every which way. "So much taller now! And tanned. I told you the sun would be good for you."

She also slathered him with a lot of sunblock as a kid, but Gray decided not to mention that. He just hugged her back and then let her lead him inside the house he hadn't lived in for a year.

"Your sister's asleep," Mrs. O'Shea said breathlessly, hauling in his duffel bag after him. "And there's pizza in the fridge, and your room's clean, and everyone's coming tomorrow to welcome you home - "

"I don't want a welcome party, Mom," he interrupted. "Never will."

"Well, you are getting one, young man, and you will be there," she said. "All of your friends will be there."

Friends? Pretty much everyone had abandoned him after he'd started being honest with himself. People lied to themselves all the time - this is cool, this is great, that'll make me feel good - but he'd gotten sick of it. Now he could only think of one friend, and she'd rather punch him before she hugs him.

He'd take anything, really. It was because of her, for her, that he'd been away for a year. Without a word of goodbye. By then, he knew that he would never leave if he saw her before he left. And he wanted to take his punishment like a man.

Or was he just being a wuss? A masochistic wuss, at that. 

"How's Red?" Gray asked, before realizing that he'd thought out loud. He hadn't really meant to ask about her... he wanted to find out for himself, see her in person...

"Red? Oh, she's wonderful," Mrs. O'Shea said, not seeming to detect anything amiss. "Though you really must stop calling her Red now, hon, though I suppose Black is a worse name." She chortled.

It took him a while to really comprehend that. "What?" For a long time - since they'd first met, really - she'd only been Red, to him. Along the lines, he'd forgotten her real full name.

That didn't matter. He knew her like he knew himself. Knew every expression that flashed in her dark eyes, every quirk and turn of her beautiful mouth, the way she'd twist her hands to prevent herself from doing something she'd regret. The way she laughed and sighed at his stupid comments and jokes.

All the little things that were hard to forget.

But now, he'd been gone for so long he was afraid she'd learned she didn't need him.

"You'll see, I'm sure," Mrs. O'Shea said briskly. "She'll be at the welcome party tomorrow, I'm sure, and you'll see her when school starts. Now you get some rest, and freshen up in the morning."

Sure. Sleep. For a whole night, all the way through? He dreamed about that in the day. At night he dreamt of other things. He slipped off his hoodie, climbing up to his room mechanically, his legs weakening with every step, before finally getting his door open and collapsing on his bed.

He was so tired he couldn't remember his last thought.

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