Colors

Epilogue

Color. That was always the thing. Color.  Because as far as Newt was concerned, there was an infinite amount of colors. Blue, for example. Your favorite color could never simply be blue, because blue isn't one color. There's deep, navy, baby blue, and so many others in between. His mother had always told him his obsession with color was ridiculous. She'd always told him to shut up about his art and do something normal, be a normal kid. Painting was normal to him, though. He was never big on football or movies. That was just him. 

     He never understood what people had against his art-it didn't affect them. It was simply him expressing himself. Still, the boys on the sidewalk would scoff when he went out to buy groceries, or call him a freak. His town was terrible for someone like him. Someone different. They were all about tradition. Newt did whatever he did to not follow them, even if he never meant to. He never would have thought the vendors on the street refusing to sell him bread would make such an insurmountable difference in his life, though he should have, because as he'd known since he was 6 years old, there was always a surprise around the corner.

     He was starting to wonder how he always landed himself in these stupid situations, staring at his bedroom roof and flinched when the door shot open slamming on the wall behind it. With no words, his father walked into the room, pulling him off of his bed, grabbing his ear and dragging him down the hall.

     "Sit."  Mr. Isaac's voice was sharp and he pulled Newt into the living area, half-throwing, half-dropping him onto the sofa while he crossed his arms, gritting his teeth. After shifting for a moment, mostly for the purpose of stalling, knowing nothing good could come out of this, he kicked his feet up, sitting them on the coffee table in front of him. As expected, his father shoved them down, gritting his teeth, and Newt could practically see fumes coming out of his ears. 

     "Dad?" His voice was airy and expectant as he tipped his chin up to look at the man above him. He got his height from him, but other than that, Newt had no resemblance to him at all. Blinking innocently and  turning to look at his sister, Rachel beside him, looking severely bored, he raised a brow at his dad. "What's wrong?" 

     "Don't play stupid with me." The man growled, making Newt scoff in response. This, of course, earned a glare from Mr. Isaac, and an eye-roll from Rachel. Typical. "This has to stop, Newt! It's costing the family now! You know I love you, son, but your...works are beginning to be a problem to our family. I'm sorry to be cruel, I really am," The man shook his head, and Newt half smirked at the statement. No you're not. He thought to himself, almost saying so out loud. "But this is the 3rd time somebody has refused to do business with our family. They see us as the insane family, and it's your fault!"

     The blond started opening his mouth, a sarcastic retort on his lips, only to be interrupted by Rachel, a groan falling from her mouth.

     "Do I really have to be here? I mean, if all you're going to do is insult Newt, is there really any point in-"  A look from both parents stopped her from finishing her sentence, and she blinked, nodding. Always the obedient one.

     "What your father is trying to say, dear," Newt's mother spoke this time, laying a hand on her husbands shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. "Is that your...uniqueness has begun to be a real problem. I know you must be thinking it was just a loaf of bread, it's no big deal, but this will continue. And we can't continue on here unless you make some changes, perhaps make some friends." The way she said it almost seemed like a question, and Newt shook his head.

     Frustrated, Newt gave an exasperated look/ "No, mum. You know  I can't do that. I'm sorry, my brain doesn't work like yours do." 

     Almost immediately, the woman hushed him, throwing her hands in the air in defense.

     "I know, dear. I'm not asking you to. You don't need to change. We just can't go on here." She empathized, shifting her eyes between her children, looking for a response. The two siblings gaped at each other, a question in both of their eyes before they turned back to their parents. It wasn't until their father walked forward, wrapping an arm around their mother, who was praftically shaking, that Rachel spoke.

     "Wait, so that means..." Furrowing her brow, she trailed off, clearly not looking forward to what was coming next.

     In response, Newt's father only nodded, almost grimly. Understanding what was implied, shock ran through Newt's body, though it wasn't exactly a disappointed one. He couldn't think of anything he would like more than getting out of here. He looked up to his parents, almost smiling. Seeing his half-smile, Rachel grit her teeth, whacking him on the shoulder.

     "Where...exactly are we going?" He bit his lip, watching his parents exchange a glance. Despite their kind act, this was probably the nicest thing they'd ever done for him, even if it wasn't necessarily for him.

     "America."