Luke.
"Paint."
"Yes, paint."
"She's an artist, Ashton, and I'm not. I'm pretty sure painting her bedroom wall with no skill whatsoever will make her hate me, if anything." I shrugged, running a hand through my hair. "The more you suggest the idea makes me not want to tell her."
Ashton slapped the back of my head. "I may be the oldest and I'm still single, but I know for a fact that she'll find it absolutely adorable that you put the effort into something she likes. Think about it."
I puffed my cheeks out, scratching the back of my neck. I wasn't exactly all for the idea, considering it seemed way more difficult than actually presenting orally.
"But- but her walls are white. I'm pretty sure she wants them to stay like that."
"Luke," Ashton spoke softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright. I'm sure it'll work. Okay? You got this in the bag." He held his fist out patiently, raising an eyebrow at me expectantly. "I really have no other plan, man. This is all that I've got."
Hesitantly, I bring my fist and connect it with his, a nervous smile along my lips.
"Okay, okay," Ashton squealed excitedly, scanning the different shades of palettes set up along the board. "So, do you want to go for the Violette Pensée? Oh, how about Violette Pensée with Edelstein Mandarin? Look at how pretty-"
While I stood there with my mouth slightly parted, trying to concentrate on whatever the fuck Ashton was trying to say, an employee thankfully came to our needs.
"Hello, welcome to Target." he flashed us a wide, bright smile, making me feel uncomfortable, so I cowered behind Ashton a little. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Yes," I started, the feeling I get being around a stranger not as bad as it was before. "Can you please explain what Violet Pansy-"
"Violette Pensée," Ashton interrupted.
"-Is? Because I am trying to shop for paint and I am a bit in the dark, here."
"Oh, of course!" The man stepped forward and took the palettes from the board, handing it over to the both of us. "Violette Pensée basically translates to 'violet thought', if you were being practical with language. It's more of an indigo-dark lavender, while Edelstein Mandarin-"
"Which is orange, in case you were wondering," Ashton grinned smugly, nudging my shoulder with his and I gritted my teeth, trying my best not laugh at his abundance of knowledge about coloring.
"Yes, that is correct," the worker - Harry - smiled, "It's violette pensée and orange mixed together, the second one. The warm, orange tone brings a darker contrast to the indigo-"
"Thus, creating more of a night's sky tone," Ashton beamed, laughing along with the Target employee. I stared at them in astonishment, fishing out my phone to reply to October's text so I wouldn't seem out of place. I just had to tell her about this.
'I'm at target right now shopping with ashton and he's discussing contrasts and tones with harry. He's the employee, by the way. I'm so confused. x' Not wanting to be rude and look like I wasn't listening, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and pay attention to the conversation and laughter shared between the two men in front of me.
"We'll just get both, then," Ashton waved him off, picking up the two buckets and handing them over to me with a big grin on his face.
"Lovely. Wonderful choice. Have a lovely day," Harry gleamed, before walking off to another aisle. I snorted.
"What? October might've taught me a few things about tones." Ashton shrugged, pinching his lips together. "We should also get Pearl Noir."
"What's that?"
"It's a dark, inky shade of ebony. It would look nice with these." He gestured to the mini paint bucket he was carrying in his hands.
"So, you're telling me to get black paint?"
"No, Pearl Noir."
"Pearl Noir," I mocked him, trying out my best French accent. "Just shut up, it's fucking black."
October.
"Mom?" I gasped, my breaths coming out slow and uneven.
I didn't know whether it was because I was so nervous and overwhelmed, or because I haven't seen both my mother and father in so long. I felt the waterworks coming in, my eyes already glossy.
I didn't seem to miss them this much when I was in the hotel, in fact, the last thing I wanted to do was to see them. Well, until now.
She didn't reply, staring at me skeptically. Then, everything clicked. She brought both her hands up to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief. I wasn't surprised that she looked like she had just seen a ghost, I did appear out of nowhere. It was even shocking for me.
"O-October?" she muttered, bringing her hand towards me hesitantly, like she was about to touch my face by she clenched her fist gently, before fully reaching out and caressing my cheek. I shut my eyes, a tear escaping its corner. "My October?"
"Mom." I breathed, trying to smile but grimaced as I let out a sob and run helplessly into my mother's arms. She brought hers around my torso, one stroking my hair repeatedly as I cry into her shoulder.
I felt another pair of arms around the both of us, Michael humming into my ear in content as he cuddled both my mother and I.
"I couldn't help it," he whispered and I laughed, sobbing even more. It really was a beautiful sight. She let go, looking at Michael in confusion.
"This is Michael, mom," I sniffed, wiping my nose with my arm. "I met him in-ah, New York. We've been best friends ever since."
Michael smiled, taking my mother's hand and shaking it, before she let out a breathless laugh and pulled him in as well, giving him a big hug.
Michael and I shared a look as she let go, wiping her hands on her apron. "Joseph," she called, her voice raspy. "Joseph, get down here!"
She turned to me and sighed, holding onto my shoulder and looking at me in awe. Loud footsteps were heard down the stairs and my mother stepped to my side, awaiting my father's arrival.
As he made his way down the stairs, I noticed how different my father looked from when I last saw him. His hair had more grey than it did brown, his face lined with more grooves and signs of sleep deprivation. "Lennie, I told you. I'm busy-" his voice caught in his throat as his eyes landed on me. I felt the tears start to pile up again.
"Tobe?" he breathed, dumbstruck, his reaction similar to my mother's.
"Daddy?"
"Go to him." Michael mumbled, directing his arm towards him dramatically. I didn't acknowledge his remark, as I ran into my father's arms and it seemed like I was a little girl again, jumping into his reach as he lifted me off the ground, laughing, and even though his complexion might've changed in the past three years, the crinkles by his eyes were still prominent.
And just like that, I watched as a part of my life had repaired itself, mending its loose stitches and I felt fully complete again. And it was all thanks to the tall blonde boy with the striking blue eyes and the ability to make me love him even more, two thousand miles away.
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~k.r.
