Hold Me While You Wait

24|black and white you look like gray

black and white you look like gray

Both girls stepped into Elis's bedroom, the open balcony door sending the nightly breeze inside. Aunt Lauren waited for Gray downstairs. They just had supper that Mrs Collins made sure to prepare to the best of her abilities, all in celebration of what the day was. And it was at the end that Elis pulled Gray into her room, claiming there was something she wanted to show her.

So as soon as they were alone, the curly haired girl closed the door behind them and immediately pulled Gray closer by her waist.

"Thank you," she breathed against her neck, the ginger girl holding Elis just as close as they stood in the middle of the room. "I had a good day."

Gray pulled back, but just enough that she could line her face with Elis's. And then she kissed her, their lips sloppy against each other as both girls savored the moment. "I wish I could stay," Gray cooed against her lips. "But aunt Lauren waits for me downstairs."

"I'll see you soon," the taller girl replied, kissing Gray once again, but this time not wanting to break apart, especially when she felt the soft brush of the ginger girl's warm tongue.

"We can go back to the hills, on one of the days. I want to see a full sunset, seeing as we missed one today."

"I'd love to," Elis replied, a deep grin on her face. "And I promise there won't be any failed attempts of piggy back rides next time."

"Or maybe no piggy back rides at all," Gray smiled, holding Elis one more time before she began to slightly pull away, leaving only their hands conjoined, until soon no part of them was.

Gray was away, and Elis fell over her bed with a prolonged sigh. She remained wide awake in the late hour of the night, her head swirling with thoughts of everything that happened ever since she met Gray, all the good memories in which she'd laugh without a care in the world. And it was even when her eyes began to close and sleep did nothing but take over her tired body, that Gray's picture still failed to leave her mind.

~

"Do you think beige would look good on this wall?" Mrs Collins asked. She had been trying to figure out the new colors she wanted the walls to be, but Elis was sitting on the sofa, barely listening to her mother as she looked out to the blue sky through the window of the living room.

"I was thinking between beige and gray."

"Gray?" The word caught the curly haired girl's attention. She was struggling with the fact that it had been days, days long enough to make up a week, since the last time she's seen Gray.

"Yes," Mrs Collins said, a thoughtful look crossing her face as she looked at the wall. "You like gray?"

Elis's heart almost stopped, a dash of anxiety overcoming her before she looked at her mother, and realised that she was only referring to the colors of the walls.

"Oh! Uhm, mom, I think the walls are fine the way they are, honestly."

"Nonsense. This white color is just so plain and boring and old. I want a new look. So what do you think? You like gray?" 

Elis sighed, knowing that she'd never win the argument with how determined Mrs Collins was. So Elis nodded, her stomach erupting in a whole lot of flips and twists as to what she was about to say.

"Yes mom," she grinned, catching her mother's gaze. "I like gray."

But Elis's head didn't linger on the ginger girl for too long, especially when she walked back to her room, and went through the old paintings she'd hidden at the back of her closet. It was then when her head took her back to Bryson all over again.

She had gotten rid of many of her portraits as soon as Bryson died, and all her equipments because she swore to never paint again. Not when Bryson wasn't there to look at them and bluntly telling her whether they were good or not. Most of them were good, as due to Bryson, but good enough to win her titles at painting competitions. And there were still some that were blatant horrible, ones that would only remain between the eyes of Bryson and Elis.

So she still didn't feel like painting, not at all, because it had been something she'd openly shared with her brother more than she did with anybody else. But the curly haired girl couldn't help it when she ran the tips of her fingers against the artwork she since stopped creating a long time ago.

And it was upon doing so that nostalgic thoughts filled hear head once again. And she slept all through that afternoon as the smile of Bryson filled her mind, and it was as though she could feel it whenever he'd hug her, when he'd brush away her tears from the times she fell from his bike, or when he'd hold her hand on the first day of school and they had to pose for a picture. Pictures that Mrs Collins carefully took off the walls to hide away, just so that Elis wouldn't end up crying from all the hurt the memories would usually bring.

But inevitably, tears fell down her cheeks when she woke up. But they were tears of joy because she dreamt of Bryson. And it wasn't a bad dream at all, it was a good one. One that Elis had fully succumbed herself in, shamelessly lying to herself that it was still her reality.