Red and Gray

Train Tracks

They'd fallen asleep on her bed after that, clothes on, too warm, too cold, because of the open window. Gray woke up feeling like he'd grown more limbs, but no - he was just wrapped around Red, and she was still asleep.

Her face was calm, still, even a little smiling. Peaceful. He stroked her hair behind her ear. She hadn't had any nightmares, clearly, or else he would have woken up to her shaking.

She'd never told him about her nightmares, but he'd had nothing to tell her, either. Dreams never scared him for long.

The most vivid nightmare he'd ever had was of her - the day he left.

She'd opened her brown-black eyes.

"Gray," she breathed. "What time is it?"

"Who fucking cares?" he said, pulling her to his chest. She hummed contentedly, and he could feel her smile against his heart. But then she ripped herself away, and he saw that her face had become like his - swollen and bruised, cuts and blood everywhere. His face after he'd confronted her ex, Scott. 

And then suddenly, she was healed, but growing smaller in the distance, as he leaned out the window, and the train tracks screeched.

"Gray."

He started. She had turned to face him, cheek against her palm, brow furrowed. He was still holding her.

"What is it?" she said. Her tiny fingers rubbed against his cheek. "I've had my fair share of nightmares, but you know they were during the night."

He got up, disentangling himself from her, cold seeping into his skin, feeling the ghost of her hand against his face. "I was just thinking of something."

"About how you're so glad it's the weekend?" she said, feeling at her bedside table for her phone. "9:26. I wonder why Dee didn't wake us?"

"Eh," he said with a shrug. Actually, he had a pretty good idea. Still half-asleep, earlier that morning, he'd watched Dee poke her head through the door, place a finger over her lips, and then disappear again.

"It is way too warm in here," Red complained, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Then - all of a sudden - she looked embarrassed, even sheepish. Red never got embarrassed. "What?" Gray asked, narrowing his eyes.

She stroked her hair. "Um - are you gonna shower? 'Cause  - some of your old clothes are still here, in my closet. Bottom chest of the bureau. I - kept them safe."

All at once, the urge to kiss her knocked him right over. Figuratively. 

What was it about her? What was it about him? What was it about her that made her vulnerable, and unique and amazing and beautiful and perfect, and what was it about him that made her want to keep him as close as possible, even when he wasn't there?

They'd had a rough start to their relationship. She'd suffered because he was too much of a wuss. He'd suffered because - well, he was too much of a wuss. She made him not be a wuss with other people, but with her - he didn't know what to do that wouldn't just push her away.

Then he realized she was still watching him.

"Yeah, I think I'll shower," he said, scratching his head. "Uh - Dee's probably awake and downstairs, so - "

"You go first," she said wryly. "I don't want to know what the hell it is you do in there, but you take way longer. And don't tell me, I do not wanna know."

"Whatever," he said, ducking into her bathroom and wishing the urge would disappear.

It didn't.

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