Sweet Charlotte

「 twenty: gentle views 」

After grumbling in defeat for a while, Seth guided Willow to his car to take her home. Willow moved reluctantly, and slow, but Seth chalked it up to her being disappointed at the bust their double-date was.

When they pulled up to her driveway and Willow didn't budge, arms crossed, staring at the front door, Seth knew something else was gnawing at her. "Will?"

Willow didn't look at him. Instead, she looked down. He'd know if she looked at him. The moment their eyes met, he'd read her like a book.

"Is everything okay?" He continued.

Willow swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "I just don't want to go inside."

Outside, the sun had already set. The only colour still painting the sky was the deep purples and pinks painting the edge of the horizon. It was enough that the world had a dark glow, the hint of the night that was still yet to come, but hadn't arrived yet. It made Willow look sadder than normal. Hollower.

"Can I ask why?" Seth asked, snapping his brain off from admiring how she looked in the evening light.

Willow's arms remained crossed, but her grip tightened. Seth glanced down to see this, then back up to study the side of her face. "They took my art supplies."

Seth froze, every organ he had stopped when he turned to look at Willow, taking a moment to reel in disbelief before responding. "What?"

"It's punishment." She said quietly. "For not being grateful."

"Grateful for what?"

"My medical bills." She said, her neck snapping toward him. She wasn't angry at him, despite the sparks in her eyes. He knew those were directed elsewhere.

The way his gaze laid on her shifted, adopting some of her anger and moulding it into his own. "Is it not their obligation as parents to take care of you?"

Willow scoffed. "That's just it. They don't take care of me because they love me. It's only out of obligation."

Seth paused, wanting to argue but not knowing how. Not knowing how to combat her words in a way that could ever make her feel better. "Will, I--"

"They told me themselves they don't want my blood on their hands." She said turning away. She sighed, shaking her head. "I had just been discharged from one of my visits and went into the kitchen to get water. My Dad got mad at me, telling me they didn't want me to push myself and be sent back." She closed her eyes. "'If you get worse, that's on us.' That's how he said it to me." She spoke through gritted teeth, and yet it still felt as though she portrayed too much empathy than they had shown her.

As her lips parted to speak again, as she went to apologize for her complaining and excuse herself from the car, the truck began rolling out of the driveway and back onto the street. Then, before she had a chance to fight it, Seth was off down the street. "Seth?"

"Let's stay out for a while, hey?" He asked, turning to cast a smirk Willow's way. It was gentle, and small, and one that had the underlyings of understanding. It was that look that Seth gave — the one that said that he would change the subject for the both of them.

"Where are we gonna go?" Willow asked, the dark sky causing the street lights to buzz against her cheeks.

Seth smirked, shrugging, powering through a green light. "On an adventure."

Willow didn't question it, only smiled at him from the passenger side as they breezed through light after light — a good omen from the universe. It wasn't until they pulled round into a McDonalds drive through, where Seth ordered burgers, fries, and sodas, did Willow start getting a clearer picture of how Seth defined an 'adventure.'