The Magic Within You - NaNoWriMo 2018

~3~

     "You know what I just realized?" Angie asked.

     Taking a half-hearted mm as the prompt to continue, Angie did so. "All this time, I've been figuring out that you know basically everything about me, but you've never said anything about yourself."

"Is there a need for that?" the man asked, somewhat bitter.

"Well..." Angie wasn't sure how to continue.

     By now, they had settled in a corner in some discreet library. Hushed conversations filled the air, along with the recognizable smell of paper and coffee. The man hadn't said a word for the rest of their walk there, seeming suspicious of the world around him.

  "God, it's dull here," he griped, now looking out the glass window that towered from ceiling to floor.

"You seem to be disappointed by a lot of things," Angie observed like a reporter on the hunt for a story.

"That's only because I've seen things you wouldn't believe."

"Interesting. Very specific. Thanks for trusting in me," she mused with a sarcastic flatness.

     He sighed. "If it makes you feel better...if it gives you...justice," he began in a mocking tone, "My name is Brayden Myers. I'm an Artist. Like you."

"You lost me at 'Artist'."

"And that is why I don't tell people things."

     She sighed and smiled kindly, taking what she got. "Well, thank you for telling me your name, Brayden. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Brayden with obvious sarcasm.

     She leaned back in her chair and exhaled. "So this obviously isn't going to be one of those stories where the guy and the girl fall in love-"

"Psh," he retorted.

     Angie was a bit taken aback by that, and her first instinct was to attack. "Excuse me?" At that, she saw something in Brayden's eyes she hadn't yet seen. Something other than annoyance or anger. Something genuine. Guilt?

     "O-oh," he said, quickly smiling the faintest apologetic smile and running a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean it like that. I have a boyfriend."

She nodded in understanding. "Tell me more about yourself," she said, resting her elbows on the table between them.

"Well," he said, reclining and lacing his fingers together. "What more is there to say?"

"Tell me what Artists are. What they do."

This cued him to lean forward again, forearms resting on the table, hands still clasped. "Artists are people that have amazing potential," he said. "The power of creativity beyond an Other's wildest dreams. We truly see the world." He spoke as if he were recollecting an enchanting event.

"That's why I see colors whenever I hear music," wondered Angie.

Brayden nodded. "That's also why we see a whole array of colors whenever we look at certain objects, like your pin. The only problem is your environment."

"What's wrong with my environment?" she huffed.

"It's an Otherworld," he said. "A human world, with dull colors and unenticing sensations."

"Sorry to disappoint," Angie sighed with a sting to her words.

He shook his head. "Angie, let me show you where Artists truly thrive."

"We can go there now? It won't take, like, a golden ticket, or a Hogwarts letter, or-"

"Give me your pin. That's your...what did you call it...golden ticket."

She looked down at the pin.

"Ready for an adventure?" Brayden asked.

She sighed with an anticipating wariness, taking the tiny metal piece from her jacket and resting it in her palm on the table. "Ready as I'll ever be."

  The pin reflected every single color imaginable in the fluorescent light. A delicate but powerful orchestra played as an accompaniment in Angie's mind as she took it in once more. From the way Brayden was looking at her, she could tell that he could hear it too.

She took a deep breath, her palm facing skyward on the table, the button laying in her hand. The button that would do...who knows what.

"You're nervous."

Angie's eyes darted up to meet Brayden's, half pleading for clues on what was about to happen, half annoyed at his obvious musing.

"Strong Artists can tell, you know," Brayden continued. "They can sense emotions. Artists that aren't being buffered by Others and atmospheres such as this one."

She sighed. Angie was just about done with the vague hints and the flowery language that was supposed to be drawing her in. "Are you screwing with me?"

Brayden blinked. "Pardon?"

"Is this a joke? Like, a practical joke that you could've pulled on anyone else? Or are you actually gonna prove it to me that this is real?"

Brayden, a bit taken aback at Angie's defensive outburst, regained his composure. Without a word, he placed his hand palm-down over Angie's. A flash of rainbow. Then a blinding light.

And they were off.