Red was the color he bled through his eyes.
That wouldn’t make much sense to any other, Rhys knew. Human thoughts were all synapse and staccato words. Each emotion was a strange mixture of physical sensation and half-formed sentences, incoherent, one-dimensional. Rhys might not be who he used to be, now trekking the grounds of the copious earth instead of clouds, once filled with endless praising and genuine smiles, but he still thought as an angel: in wavelengths, short and long, from quiet gamma to blaring, bleeding-ear radio. And in the middle, the visible spectrum. Color. Only one color was more prominent; an overabundance of scarlett bleeding into his visible light.
Blinking, he shook out of his daze, his grim thoughts refining, modifying into an unperturbed state at the clicking of heels. One, two, three, f o u r. There could be no mistaking, the brisk movement of feet were directing themselves towards him. Without hesitation, he closed his notebook, fingers lingering on the edges of the curled edges from overuse. This book, filled with incomprehensible stanzas and lines, it was a glimpse too deep into his thoughts, something others weren’t privy enough to perceive. Would they even wish to see? To behold the words that flowed endlessly from his thoughts to the paper, would they?
The simple words, despite how awkwardly presented, jolted him out the remnants of his reverie. For a moments as he stared at her in surprise, eyes automatically enlivening, he wasn’t sure whether to be glad or irritated. What was it about her? He enjoyed having her around, this girl whom he’d hardly knew, and related to her, despite not understanding why. ( and yet you cannot connect like this with Faye ). The thoughts were poison, sobering up his conscious as a serious gaze found its way to his eyes; as if he were gearing up for battle.
“It’s not something that could be understood.” Nor should you want to. His brain promptly added, the instability of his mind a curse. Not even he, an angel made to carry burdens, could bear this load without stumbling, staggering until his legs gave out in outburst of pique. “ — You’re that girl.” He added, steadily speaking, forcing the memories of the sentiments arisen that night to be forgotten. It shouldn’t be that simple, not with h e r. These instinctual thoughts, they felt so wrong, yet right. “Where is your friend? Or have you come to face the world by yourself today.” A quick change in topic, but Rhys couldn’t divulge his alarming thoughts, not with her; not with anyone.
Part of Ophelia had briefly questioned whether it was a good idea to greet him, but she hadn’t considered at all if he wanted to see her. The only point of view which she had given any thought was her own; how she felt about seeing him and what were the pros and cons of their possible interaction. She hadn’t thought about his side at all, and it wasn’t until now, when she was already sitting next to him, that she did. His earlier outburst had given off the impression that he wasn’t in the best of moods and from what she’d managed to learn, moments like that weren’t exactly the best for social interactions. She had absolutely no way of predicting how he would react if or when he recognized her---if such a thing even happened. She could only hope that her smile would not be met with a scorn, but with something more positive instead.
When the reaction she received turned out to be a mere look of surprise, she had to concentrate most of her attention on not letting out a loud sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Sometimes, if you just let it happen, people can surprise you quite pleasantly.” Or negatively, but that wasn’t a train of thought she wanted to indulge in right now---or ever, really. Another difference, another thing which separated them ( she may or may not have compiled a list ), yet it did nothing to fade her ever-growing interest in the enigma that Rhys was.
When he spoke again, and to her joy, recognized her, Ophelia’s smile got just slightly wider; one half of it was because of amusement and the other because she was unsure which other reaction would be appropriate. “’That girl’ is kind of vague, but yeah, I suppose I am. It’s nice to see you again too, Rhys.” At his question, her smile died, although a ghost of it still lingered on her lips. “Um...” She started, although she didn’t voice the rest of her thought as she genuinely was clueless about what to say. He couldn’t be aware of the irony of what he had just said, but it left Ophelia feeling confused nevertheless. She wasn’t as vulnerable as she had been a few months ago and she could survive on her own, but to face the world alone? That sounded like a challenge she wasn’t quite ready to handle without anyone’s support.
“She’s at work. I mean, it has been a couple of days since we talked, but, uh, yeah, I guess that leaves me facing the world alone.” With each word that stumbled out of her mouth, she could practically feel her cheeks turn several shades redder than they had been minutes ago. This wasn’t going well at all. “-------- Anyway, how are you?” Perhaps diverting the attention this quickly from herself back to him wasn’t the best option, but in her mind anything was better than embarrassing herself further.
