Colour My Shadow

Chapter Twelve - Dreams

Chapter twelve... I didn't quite get where I wanted to with it, but it's slightly longer.

By the time Aidan had come upstairs to collect my bowl, I had changed into pyjamas, gone back to bed, rolled over so I was facing the wall, and 'fallen asleep'. 

I listened, staying stock still, save for breathing, as Aidan paused in the doorway, and then stole into my room, remarkable quiet and nimble for a boy who spent hours after school playing football and rugby. But I just stayed still, keeping my back to him, eyes closed and feigning sleep. I didn't feel like talking. 

There was a faint clink as he picked up the bowl, and then a dull thud as he set something down on my bedside table. Finally, a soft touch on my head - a kiss? It must have been, because I next heard his voice by me ear, breathing "Rosa, Rosa. I love you, you know?" Then he chuckled softly, kissed me again, and left the room, just as agilely as he came in. 

As soon as he reached the stairs, though, my eyes flickered open, and I smiled. Aidan could be just as brotherly and protective as he could be teasing, at times... the only thing was, he'd never admit it. I rolled over, staring at the door he'd just left through, and, listening hard, could just about make out him singing in the kitchen, or wherever he was. 

My small, happy smile slid off my face quickly enough, however, just as swiftly as my thoughts slid back to Storm, and any incentive I'd had to go downstairs, pyjama-clad though I was, and tease the hell out of Aidan, for being so nice, drained out of me, taking the sudden burst of energy I'd had with it. 

What had happened to him? He'd gone from being relived and happy to see me awake, to yelling and storming away in the space of a heartbeat. For the first time ever, I'd seen his too-handsome face screwed up in anger... although I admitted that I hadn't been able to see his face for long. 

He'd seemed - and I doubted I was wrong, considering the topic of his shouts - offended and infuriated by my potrayal of him as different from the rest of his kind. 

And that, I guess, made a sort of sense, but a stubborn part of me still couldn't help but feel that he was overreacting. I'd meant it as a compliment... but he'd taken it as an insult. Would he really rather that he was like the uniform, cold Shadows who scared me so much I became semi-paralysed at the sight of them, and then fainted? 

Maybe he did. Maybe it was an insult to him, to be warm, and kind, and sweet, and cute. He wasn't cute, though. He was - and as much as the word was overused and tyical teenager talk - hot. Unlike me, unlike anyone I knew. Steven was cute, but not good looking in the same way as Storm. But why did I feel the need to compare the two like that? It wasn't fair on either of them.

My thoughts were bitter, and distracted, I acknowledged that. But today, I'd been fake-asked out by my best friend, the same guy who I crushed on. I'd yelled at him for that, and then made up a few hours later, unable to keep a grudge. Then I'd discovered he was walking me to home and to school from the other side of town - doubling and nearly tripling the walk he'd have had to do... which was just strange.

Then finally, I'd gone to another world, got what a person from that world called 'super culture shock', and passed out from fear and confusion. And my day had been rounded off with the same otherworldly person yelling at me and disappearing... so if anyone had the right to be bitter, I figured that it was me. 

But there was a niggling voice in my head, saying that maybe Storm had had a day just as bad. Maybe he was afraid of being too different. 

And maybe, just maybe, he cared about me enough to want Shadows to still intrigue and delight me, the way they had done since I'd begun seeing them, which was at an age that I couldn't remember. Maybe he wished that he weren't Shadow, so he didn't have to be the same as them. Maybe he was ashamed; ashamed of the fear his world instilled in me. Maybe he genuinely wanted to be more, for me, better for me. But then, why would he get so angry?