Spectrum Rebellion

xi.

[ i know it's not the best. i tried x ]

xi.

The insides of my eyelids lit up in a flare of blinding white light, causing them to snap open all too suddenly. Immediately, upon my eyes opening, all my senses awoke and I was aware of everything. The soft and cool feeling of a gentle breeze fluttering in through the open window, the soothing cold of the sheets beneath my bare limbs, and the immediate sense of relaxation hit me all at once. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a few seconds. When I opened them again, I found myself staring at the blank ceiling above me. The ceiling was as blank as a canvas, not a single smear of dirt, ink or paint. Nothing.

"Inspired already?" A soft voice said from my far left. I sat up, tangled in my duvet, looking over at Thomas, who was now stood in the doorway. His soft green hair was more ruffled than usual, and despite the fact he was wearing his pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, his feet still adorned the famous blue socks. Because I was now used to associating him with blue socks, I knew that when he wore a different colour, I just wouldn't be able to call it right, or correct, no matter how much the socks may have matched the outfit.

"You could say that." I said, stretching and then untangling my legs from the white sheets as quickly as I could–I was excited and eager to get back into the rest of Thomas' house, to see the walls and furniture again. Even though this apartment wasn't mine, it felt homely and comfortable. Thomas laughed quietly as he watched me detach myself from the soft sheets and clamber quickly out of the warm bed.

"It's funny to see how eager you are...most brand new Rebels would cringe at the sight of this place. You are an odd one. I guess it's practical that scares you, you know, like dancing or maybe even major graffiti. But unlike everyone else, this sort of stuff doesn't make you uncomfortable along with practical, does it? You just like the variety and colour." Thomas said, straightening up and folding his arms across his chest. I smiled and carefully started to pick up the duvet, to make the bed, but Thomas realised what I was doing and shook his head, running forwards and making a–rather elegant–leap of faith. He landed heavily on the bed, covering as much of it as he possibly could, snatching the duvet away from me. "No, Arid, don't make the bed. Do not make the bed."

"B-But the bed was made all neat and tidy when I got here." I argued, slightly stunned–Thomas had almost headbutted me in the stomach when he had landed on the bed. He looked up at me, sitting up and gathering the duvet and sheets around him in a cocoon of snowy white softness.

"Yes, I know it was. But now it's occupied, it should not be made. Not ever. Nope. Not happening. Don't let me see you make it. My bed is never made. Only when I go away for a while." He said. I sighed, removing my hand from where it was placed on the duvet.

"How long exactly am I staying here?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. Thomas shrugged.

"As long as you need to." He replied, climbing off of the bed and standing up gracefully once more. He still towered above me, his thin and lithe frame seeming much bigger compared to my small body. "Come on, I need to feed you now." He walked out of the spare room, me on his heels. He led me through the various rooms and eventually showed me into a small room which smacked me with colour. Every single cabinet, cupboard and handle was a different colour altogether. A smile immediately crept its way onto my features, small, but still a smile. "You like it? It's a room of creativity, so you know...I wanted it to be as colourful as possible."

"It's amazing." I said, putting my hand on the door of the fridge, which was a deep magenta colour, with various pictures and drawings stuck to it. Some notes and messages were written on the shiny pink coat in dark blue. I ran a finger over one of the notes; it didn't rub off. "Why did you use permanent marker if these are just notes?" I queried. Thomas smiled and pulled himself up so he was sat on the counter. Again, his t-shirt seemed to fold perfectly in the right places over his slim figure. I had no idea how he did it, but it made me slightly envious.