Spectrum Rebellion

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The stars glittered overhead, the moon a silvery white, perfect circle with frosty rings. Night seemed to be more beautiful surrounded by the building of Rebels, with the occasional free runner darting over the roofs ahead. As Thomas and I walked down the street, the overwhelming sense of exhaustion crept over to me, and I yawned. I tried to cover it up, but naturally, Thomas looked over at me and saw. But he smiled, not seeming to be very surprised.

"It's really not much, not much at all, but this is my home. So...you know, be careful with what you say." Thomas said, gesturing up to the tall building looming overhead. My gaze followed his gesture and I felt the bank of vocabulary in my mind just disappear altogether. There were basically no words to describe this building, other than ratty and quite shabby. It was tall and grey, a block of flats, with broken windows and graffiti that wasn't even beautiful or even meaningful. It seemed almost crooked and I even thought I could hear the wind whistling through the broken glass or the cracked stone.

"It's..." I paused, trying to find the right words, "Er, nice. You could even call it quaint."

"The Reckless Quaint." Thomas said, smiling, "Perhaps I should name my apartment that. And when I said you were to be careful with what you said, I didn't mean you could lie about it. I know it looks like something from a cheaply made horror movie." Thomas smirked at me, a few strands of soft green hair falling into his eyes.

"I haven't seen any horror movies." I added, "Even cheaply made ones."

"Remind me to show you one someday. The old ones are always the best, even if they are seriously badly made. They're so bad that they're good...a bit like my artwork, to be honest." With that, Thomas started making his way towards the building, me following him closely behind. Thomas' pace was quite fast and I had to almost jog to keep up, but I didn't mind. Thomas then swung the front door open and started down the corridor, heading towards a crumbling staircase. I edged slowly through the front door and looked about. The corridor was carpeted with a fading red rug, with various tears and holes in it. The walls were caked with graffiti and pictures in ratty frames. The walls and spots of floor that could be seen were a dull grey colour, like sludge mixed with cement. It looked shifty, and standing on the dust covered carpet made me feel odd, the glow from the occasional lamps here and there about the wall looking ghostly.

"Thomas," I called out softly. The boy with the green hair turned, only standing on the second step up, his eyebrows raised, "I don't think I can do this. I'm scared." He smiled and let his posture slouch a little bit, his t-shirt still creasing seemingly perfectly across every angle of his sharp torso. He hopped down the stairs and leaned against the wall, hands thrust into the pockets of his back jeans.

"There's nothing to be scared about," His voice was as soft as a cat's purr, "You can do it, Arid. You can do it. You've painted a bench, and you've even swayed a bit at a dance club. You can make it to my apartment."

"But..." I drifted off, sighing.

"I have multicoloured walls." Thomas continued. "I have paintings and graffiti and photographs, and there's always room for more. I'm sure I can find a spot on a wall somewhere just for you. A clean space where you can put whatever you want." Thomas' voice was as soft as silk, the words twisting around my body in the most gentle rope, capturing me mid-thought.

"My own spot on your wall?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. Thomas smiled, lifting himself upwards slightly.

"All yours. But only if you follow me." I looked about the shifty corridor one more time, before walking forwards, dust rising from where my plimsolls touched the carpet. The pad, pad, pad noise beneath my feet was more comforting than I would have first assumed, and Thomas' welcoming smile was like a homing beacon, his green hair the lighthouse leading me on the safe passage home, allowing me to miss the rocks in the sea. When I eventually made it to the stairs, Thomas didn't hesitate to start walking up them at quite a fast pace. Taking an even deeper breath, I hopped up the stairs after him.