Page 115 of Seeing Grayscale

He can’t.

So I remind him how he really feels about me, I’ll prove to him all those rushed confessions seconds before he kissed me stupid were real. That everything we’ve done has meant something. I straddle his hips, forcing him to let go of my wrist so I can hold either side of his shoulders.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I silence him, suffering through his terrible whiskey breath as our lips touch. “You don’t mean it.”

He whimpers like he’s in pain, reaching up to palm my waist. “I don’t. But I’m scared. He’ll be so disappointed.”

I hate seeing him like this. Defeated, distraught, and miserable. It’s not fair. “You don’t need his approval,” I whisper. “You don’t.”

“I do.” His fingers squeeze tighter. “I do. He’s been the only one there, the only one to make sure I do well and make something of myself. That I’ll matter.”

“You matter tome,” I growl, kissing him harder this time. “I think you came back because you were searching for something. Answers maybe. Validation. Maybe you just wanted to see things from a different perspective.”

His eyes glaze over, the alcohol winning the fight, but I don’t stop. Even if he doesn’t remember, I need to get this off my chest.

“Whatever you saw in me stuck with you. This whole time, I thought that surviving was a greyscale. The metaphor always made sense because I used to think living without a family and home meant all the color from my world was stripped away. I thought that you had all that color and spat on it. Didn’t care that people like me would give up anything and everything just for a glimpse of it. But I know now, Hunter. Whatever you saw in me, I see in you.”

The tears fall, telling me that he hears me. He’s listening.

“Webothwere seeing greyscale, surviving in the bleak. It might be different situations, but the same sunless sky. The same stagnance, the same fucking weight keeping us down. When you saw me, did you feel sorry for me?”

“No,” he says with a wobbly lower lip.

“Did you see someone worth pitying?”

“No.”

“What did you see?”

“Blue,” he gasps. “I saw blue.”

I smile down at him. “Color, babe. You saw fucking color. I know that’s what you saw because I saw it too.”

“Stay,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. The remaining tears cling to his lashes. “Stay.”

Slowly, I climb off him and nestle into his side. “I’m right here.” I kiss his chest, and he loses the fight, drifting to sleep.

It feels like we’re running.

I texted Alex at 10 am, letting him know Hunter survived the night. I mean, I knew he would, but I was hoping he’d tell me more about what drove Hunter to that point, other than what was said.

All I got back was:Is he calling off?

Obviously, after everything that happened, Hunter wasn’t going to work. But he also shot up out of bed, hungover, and told me to pack.

Now, we’re driving to the summer house. I glance over at Hunter, noting the bags under his eyes and wild look in them. He’s scared. I don’t know how often his dad has tried calling and texting, but it’s enough to spook him.

And so, it feels like we’re running.

Does it bother me? Of course it does.

Even though I told him I’d be his secret indefinitely, a part of me hoped he’d face this problem head on. That he’d tell his dad to fuck off. I can’t understand what it’s like to be afraid of your parents. Minelovedme. They loved me so much that even if I committed a murder, they’d be right beside me with lawyers and a shovel. Maybe that’s why I’m so sure that nothing Hunter does will earn him his dad’s love.

There’s something fuckingwrongwith his parents.

And, I know it’s probably the last thing I should be focusing on, but Hunter still hasn’t said anything about me passing my GED test. He hasn’t asked what my next moves are, or what jobs I will apply for. I’m feeling like a meat shield—like I’m only here to give him an excuse to avoid the real problems breathing down his neck.

While I chew on my thumb, I watch the scenery pass by through the car window and stew on this. If he’d pulled what he did last night a few weeks ago, I probably would’ve forced myself to leave. It’s been too good to be true from the get-go, and now I’ve seen firsthand how Hunter deals with problems—he doesn’t.

---