cappuccino ↬ offgun

smoke and stars

Today is Saturday: everyone's favorite day. I've always wondered why. It has not something special.
My favorite day's Wednesday. Always colored, never grey. But that was before. Now, every day of my life is just grey. There isn't one in which there isn't a grey shade. Even the sky says so: it's been raining for four days. And if this isn't fate.

By the way, today I started to understand Saturday's essence. I went out to a cheap disco, as my friends promised. I spent a nice night. But without my angel. Family's problems. Actually, I don't know if taking the trust's street is right. I have his number (without knowing his name, for now he's just angel), I could contact him whenever I want. Just for now, I'll be a pink: kind. I'll trust him.

I started to investigate his friends' personalities, though. Tay and Off. I already knew something about Tay. Maybe because he's been New's boyfriend for a couple of years by now, or maybe because he often comes to our café (because of the first reason). He's a dark yellow, seems funny, but he hides a bitter secret.

Off. He's a mystery. His eyes are so cold. He didn't talk for the whole night (almost). We talked a bit, actually, but just because I asked him a little thing. I didn't ask how he was doing. Why? I didn't care. Let's admit it: people don't really mean it when they say: "how are you?". They say it to say something.

I met him outside. With his cold eyes, he was staring at the dark sky, while he was sitting on a small wall. Maybe he was wondering what he was doing there.

"Hi, can I borrow one of your cigarettes?" I asked, kindly.

"Why should I?" I rolled my eyes. Boring.

"Because I need it? What kind of question is that?" I leaned my back against the wall, looking at him. I didn't say that in a mean way. I didn't hate him or something. And maybe he didn't hate me. But that question, so useless.

"As you want, mr. please give me a cigarette." He put a hand in his pocket, looking for my treasure.

And then, we started to smoke, together, without saying a word. We were looking at those stars. I shut my eyes: I was listening to my thoughts. Regrets, memories, blood, past. Black. My heart stopped for a second.

"Gun, are you okay?" Off said, with a burnt cigarette between his fingers. His eyes were staring at me. I nodded, touching my cheek, realizing that a tear came out of my left eye.

Dark purple, that's his color.