Red and Gray

Bright Lipstick

Red reapplied her lipstick at her locker. Everyone noticed her wearing it, of course, but the ones catty enough to mention it may have been metaphorically rushed to the burn ward because of a serious eyebrow malfunction alert. Courtesy of her.

Eyeliner she was already well-acquainted with (ha!) but she never had a great liking for makeup. Even now she doesn't use it much, but she could at least appreciate what wonders it could do - in small amounts. She'd seen enough girly clowns to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

And now, the only shred of her nickname-sake was in her lipstick, and Gray noticed.

"Since when?" was his first question, and a stupid one at that.

"Eh," she said nonchalantly, just to piss him off a little. "Brings out my eyes." She glared at her dark eyes in the mirror. Black at first glance, but dark brown in the light. She tilted her head, left to right, watching the flashes.

She turned her head at exactly the moment Gray turned his, avoiding her gaze. He might as well have started whistling in faux-nonchalance.

Her mouth quirked on one side. "Come on," she said. "Wanna head out to Lost?"

"Nah, Red," he replied. "Still not in the mood for all the staring."

"Wear black everything, duh," she said, very obviously. "We've been going there for a while, Gray. I'm pretty sure Dave misses you."

"Dave thinks my name is Clay, Red," Gray replied dully. 

"Close enough," she said, suppressing a laugh. "He calls me Scarlett, but that's only because he likes Gone with the Wind. But that doesn't have anything to do with anything, really." Suddenly she felt a surge of pity, watching Gray stand there. He belonged here, they both did, in this hallway of noise and lockers and mundanity, but he had never looked so out of place.

"Hey," she said, softly, and he tilted his head toward her. "I could just go by myself."

"No," he said quickly. "I - I just don't want to go, but I - I want you to stay, Red. I think we can both agree that it's been a long year." 

And I don't want you out of my sight.

No, that was just her. He would never think that. He would never say that. He was only her friend. Once he finds someone else, someone so much more precious, he'll never look at her again.

Until he finds out it's only an option to run back.

"Let's stay at my house then," she offered, trying to brighten. "Play video games or something." She didn't like video games, but he did.

"Sure," he said, his eagerness showing through.

Maybe it was that.

How much of a boy he still was, at heart. He was taller than her, anyway, and clearly way past the pubescent stage of awkward limbs and squeaky voices. He was muscled from all that basketball, and deep-voiced from singing, but there was something about him. Like he was teetering on the edge of teenage confusion and painfully adult self-awareness - and decided to subconsciously compromise by being boyishly curious.

Unfortunately, there was also some part of Red that wasn't that far gone in the world of pain and rock, and just wanted to reach out and help him.

And got her heart kicked in the process.

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