Spectrum Rebellion

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Thomas stayed close behind me, insisting that he would catch me if I fell as I walked gingerly about the white room in which he had placed me in nearly twenty-four hours before. The floor felt cold beneath my bare feet and I wobbled about a bit, but I could now walk in a more or less straight line. I eventually gave up and teetered back to my bed and sat down, holding my dizzy head. Thomas sat down beside me, proving how much taller than me he was. The top of my head only came to just below his shoulder.

"Are you scared?" Thomas asked. Truthfully, I was. I knew my parents were probably going to come after me. I knew that they would hunt me down and snatch me away from wherever I even was. "You don't need to be. If they come to this part of town, the Rebels will sort them out faster than they can say 'Spectrum Rebellion is bad'."

"It's not just that." I said quickly. Thomas nodded and gave me a half-smile.

"I know how you must feel. The first couple of weeks of Rebellion is tough, especially if you've been raised like you have and are trying to hide from your parents. But you must understand a lot of us have been through things similar to what you have to get here, and if you need any help or someone to talk to we will always be here. And I'm specifically going to help you through it, but only if you're determined to reach it. Okay?"

"Okay." I mumbled.

"So the first thing we're going to do together is sort out some clothes for you. Now, I have a personal preference when it comes to colour in clothes. But I guess we all have, seeing as the colours we wear can seemingly define you." Thomas said. I blinked, not sure what to think of this 'lesson' of his. They were just clothes, after all. "I prefer to wear dark trousers and shoes - unless it's a special occasion - because it means I can just slip a dark jacket on, pull the hood up and I can easily make my way through the streets of the bleak without getting killed by some crazed policeman."

"But you wore blue socks-" I started.

"Not many people pay attention to socks." Thomas said immediately - almost passionately - while furrowing his eyebrows in such a ridiculous manner that I started laughing. A nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Thomas then eyed me curiously, not quite sure what to make of my, frankly quite hysterical, laughing. I calmed myself down enough so I was just breathing heavily, and looked upon him afresh, only to start laughing once more.

"I'm sorry, it's just-" I tried to calm myself down, clutching my stomach as pangs of sharp laughing-pain shot through it. "I don't mean to laugh...I don't do it often..." I wiped my eyes as tears of mirth started to spring up in them. Thomas didn't look offended as I believed he would. He just smiled that dimpled, small smile.

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're laughing. Laughing is good." Thomas said. "Anyway. I won't rant on about clothes seeing as it makes myself seem more feminine than I am already. I'll just find you something. I'll be right back." With that, he sashayed in a very exaggerated way out of the room, shooting me a mischievous smile before he walked through the door. I sighed and leaned back into my pillow, enjoying the quiet. It was a strange quiet; a sort of quiet that was loud. I was aware of all the quiet sounds in the room, such as the light hum of the radiator and the low whir of the fan. Birds sang outside and I could hear light footsteps outside my room as people walked up and down the corridors. I closed my eyes. Loud quiets were good.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Thomas walked in, holding a bundle of clothes in his arms. I sat up again as he clambered onto my bed, seemingly not caring if he put pressure on my legs or sat on one - or both - of my feet. Once Thomas had made himself comfortable, leaning against the rails at the end of the bed, his legs dangling off of the side of the mattress, he chucked a pair of black jeans at me, along with a pair of dark pink socks and a dark purple t-shirt.