Blue Side of the Mountain
Wilson x Brando | Storm Chasers
A strong smell of coffee and cinnamon immediately flooded Wilson’s senses as he stepped a foot into his work. His ears filled with the soothing voice of Stevie Nicks as he swapped his thin jacket for the thick and scruffy texture of his brown apron.
“Just like the white-winged dove, sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he sang along. His head bobbed along as he tied the string behind his back.
Wilson’s routine always began with music, mostly of Stevie Nicks, ABBA, and Fleetwood Mac. It brought him a warm and safe feeling throughout his days in New York. Just like they did.
It had been three years since that incident. Everywhere he looked, he was overwhelmed with the sudden realization that they were no longer in his life.
There’s a flower shop he walks by daily, and on the outside were a variety of flowers one would just ignore. However, within the group of them stood white anemones. Riley’s favorite. When someone asked why she stuck up for such a plain flower, she would simply say, ‘Just like the eye of the storm, something so simple can hold such beauty’.
They were also the flowers that accompanied her grave.
It felt like forever since he last visited them all. He just couldn’t help but feel guilty for it all. The constant ‘what if’s’ floods his mind at every waking moment. What if we never went to that spot? What if they drove a little faster? What if it was all meant to happen?
They would have discovered countless things by now. Riley would’ve captured amazing shots that could’ve given her the opportunity to get her name out there, in addition to Jackie writing a book about his endless adventures and thrill of storm chasing.
Most importantly, Wilson would have been married to Colton.
That thought alone consumed him whole.
The box that was given to him that day sat perfectly untouched upon his bookshelf. It being the last physical thing he has of them all that he could hold.
His thoughts were interrupted when the bell at the entrance rang. In walked his mom, glasses pulled up on her head, and clothes slightly ruffled as she attempted to smooth the wrinkles out. Wilson huffed a laugh through his nose before closing a lid over the hot drink he just poured.
The woman spotted him immediately, a warm smile accompanied her face as she walked up to him. With a dramatic grunt, she set her bag onto the counter.
“Running late?” He asked, amused.
She gave him a pointed look, “My alarm went off too late, and then I realized I had no clean clothes, so I had to rush a load in the washer and dryer,” She sucked in a breath, “And then, I couldn’t find my purse.”
Wilson nodded his head as he listened to her rant while he cleaned his area. He quickly grabbed the sharpie they kept specifically for to-go cups, and scribbled down a sloppy heart.
“Well, luckily for you, I’m an amazing son and know what you order every morning.” He slid the cup to her gently, watching as she began to search through her bag. “Double lucky that I work here and it’s on the house.”
She stopped rummaging to look up at Wilson, a sigh of relief escaping her, “I’ll pay you back sweetie.”
Delilah grabbed the cup, but her eyes gazed upon the silver that hugged snug around the boy's finger. Her mood shifted slightly, barely enough to notice. Everyone around them knew what today was.
She hesitated before speaking up once again, “How are you, baby?”
The playful look Wilson had on his face immediately faded, replaced by a distant and deep pain. He blinked a couple times, shifting his eyes to his hands, “Aren’t you late for work?”
He always brushed this topic off, the feeling of it leaving a bitter aftertaste. Anyone with eyes could see how the boy carried a weight so heavy on his shoulders, that with one wrong shift everything could come crashing down.
“God forbid a mother cares.” Delilah sighed.
She watched as his form slumped over, the glassy look in his eyes sharpening by the moment. She also noticed how he occupied his hands, just to keep him doing something rather than talk about his feelings.
Delilah wanted to keep pushing to talk. Unfortunately, as she pulled out her phone she realized the time.
“Oh! Okay, I have to go,” She piled up her things before patting around her body, “Oh my god, where are my glasses?”
Wilson cracked a smile, pointing to his own head to signal to her. The woman mirrored him, feeling the object she had been looking for and groaned, rolling her eyes at herself as she placed them back onto her face.
She then grabbed ahold of the boy's arm before pulling him down and planting a big kiss on his cheek, “I love you, sunny. Call me if you need anything, alright?”
Wilson just nodded his head, “Okay. I love you too, mom.”
Once the woman finally walked out the door, Wilson let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. His shoulders slumped forward as a hand dragged down his face.
“She’s just worried, you know.” A voice cut in from behind.
The boy just turned around with a tired look in his eyes. His coworker stood there, barely glancing up as she worked on an online coffee order.
“I’m just,” He exhaled a shaky breath, “I’m so fucking tired of hearing the same exact thing of ‘how are you’ and ‘we’re here if you need anything’.”
His fingers clutched tight on the rag he held, “It’s such bullshit.”
Ashley stopped what she was doing, instead putting her full attention on the boy beside her, "Whether you like it or not, there’s people who love you and wanna make sure you’re doing okay,” She paused, “Even me, surprisingly.”
Wilson huffed a laugh before pulling his eyes away from her, the contact she held felt too heavy for him at the moment. Fortunately, the girl took his silence as a way of saying ‘just leave me alone’.
The bell at the door rang, signaling that someone had just walked in. It was a tall boy with ruffled blonde hair, carrying himself with a confidence that left people staring.
Ashley just nodded her head towards him, gesturing for Wilson to take care of it.
With a sigh, Wilson walked back up to the register, “Welcome to Cafe Gray, what can I get for you?”
“Just a medium caramel frap with a chocolate croissant, please.” He said as he dug out his wallet.
Wilson nodded his head while jotting down the order, “That’ll be nine seventeen.”
After he paid and was handed the receipt is when he finally took a good look at Wilson. His eyes squinted as he tried to piece together something. On the other hand, Wilson leaned back slightly, feeling very uncomfortable with the attention given.
“You look familiar,” He finally said, “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Wilson blinked in confusion as his eyebrows furrowed, “Not that I know of?”
“You’re not from New York, are you?” He questioned.
The other boy's eyes lit up with a sparkle, “Oh, no way me too! I’m here visiting family before I go back.”
Yeah, he seemed too bubbly to be from New York.
The curly haired boy just tilted his head as the other continued to ramble on, as if Wilson was just an old friend he bumped into.
“I do storm chasing in Fort Worth.” The world around Wilson started to blur, words muffling into nonsense like he had been submerged underwater.
Of course he would have to face something like this today of all the days of the year. Any expression that he held on his face softened into nothing, the ringing in his ears grew louder the more he stood there in front of this man.
His fingers twitched with a familiar tremor he tried so hard to take control of. The feeling of eyes burned in the back of his head, knowing it was Ashley holding a concerned look.
“Wilson?” He was snapped back to reality. The man in front of him glanced at him with caution, making him want to crawl out of his skin.
Instead he just shook his head, “Sorry, what’s your name?”
The blonde hesitated at first before speaking, “Reese.”
“Okay, Reese, you’re holding up the line.”
Reese stood there confused, his head spinning around to scan the room. The feeling only grew once he realized it was practically empty besides the three of them, “Uh, what line?”
Frustration bubbled deep within Wilson, “The metaphorical line, please sit while I get your order started.”
He turned without waiting for a response, he just needed to get out of that conversation as fast as he could.
It was like no matter how hard he tried to block it all out, it just came crashing back down harder than the waves crashed the shore. And oh, how badly he wanted the current to pull him away from this harsh reality.
Everyone around always stared at him as if they understood how he was feeling. Pitiful glances, a hand on the shoulder, watery eyes; Like they were the ones who had to go through it. Like they witnessed their best friends and fiancée be ripped out of his grasp like nothing.
Once the items were placed onto the counter, Wilson quickly muttered the boy's name.
Reese picked up his order with a soft, hesitant smile, “Have a good day, man.”
The bell rang above the door to signal his exit, letting a small weight lift off Wilson’s shoulders.
With a deep sigh, he let his head hang low as he rubbed his hands over his face. Good day? Yeah, like that was possible.
“Maybe, you should take a break.” Ashley spoke up as she leaned on the counter beside him.
Wilson shook his head, “I don’t need one, I’m fine.”
She just untied his apron without warning, “If you’re fine like you say you are, then maybe start acting like it.” The boy grumbled in protest, too stubborn for his own good to actually listen to what anyone has to say. “Now, shoo, before you scare more customers.”
Another person had entered just as she finished her sentence, however, the presence felt all too familiar to Wilson.
Once his head had turned to look, his worst fear had been answered.
There, standing in the middle of the cafe with a shy smile on his face, was none other than Finley Banks.
The breeze outside seemed to help cool Wilson off for a bit, wind drafting through the ringlets in his hair causing them to dance around his head. With an inhale, he let his shoulder drop back down, wanting to get this conversation over with.
Finley stood right beside him, his round glasses sat a little crooked on his nose. The glint of a small scratch on the glass shining bright in the New York sun.
“How did you find me?” Wilson got straight to the point.
Finn smirked, “Well, Ms. Hart is technically my best friend at this point.”
Wilson rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle, “Of course she is.”
A gentle silence fell over them, not quite comfortable. The question Wil wanted answered so badly itched to be asked.
“You’re not here for her, though,” He stated obviously, “Tell me exactly what brought you back, Finn.”
Finley looked down, avoiding the others eyes that seemed to pierce through him. It would be a difficult thing trying to convince Wil, out of all people, to go on this adventure with him.
He let out a sigh, “For the past three years, I’ve been with this disaster relief charity.” The air seemed to thicken at the sentence, a heavy weight falling between them. “They go around to the towns that have been affected by the storms, and they raise the money to help build up the communities again.”
Wilson turned his head straight forward, watching as the cars drove by. People going on with their days, some not carrying the burden of such a great loss; And it killed Wil that he couldn’t be the one in their position.
“What do I have to do with this?” He questioned, finally looking back at Finn.
The other boy just shrugged sheepishly, “You’re the only one I know who could navigate us safely through a tornado.” There it was.
Wilson scoffed, his lips pursing in a mix of emotions, “I quit long ago, Finley.”
“Okay, but please just listen to me.” He raised his hands defensively, wanting to explain himself properly to his friend. “We both know that deep down you miss chasing. It was the one thing in your life that you were so sure of, and you can’t just give something up you worked your ass off to accomplish.”
He turned his body, hands coming up to further emphasize his words, “Imagine what we could do, the lives we could save.”
Wilson pushed himself off of the wall, hands brushing against his clothes to smooth them out. His watery eyes glistened in the sun as he looked over his friend once more, “Yeah, well, I was so sure about a lot of things.”
A tear broke the barrier, sliding down his cheek in an almost humiliating way, “look how that ended.”
Then he walked back into the cafe, leaving Finley standing awkwardly out on the sidewalk.
He knew it would be difficult trying to convince Wilson to go back to the one place that ripped them apart, but he was so set on making it happen. No matter how long it would take.
Finn would spend countless years just trying to fix that bruised and battered patch between them.
It was the nights like this that got to Wilson. Frustrating insomnia, tossing and turning, the sudden realization of the way the fabric of his sheets felt grazing upon his skin. It took him ages just trying to fall asleep comfortably.
His mind seemed to never quiet. The thoughts in his head overpowering even the blistering sound of silence; Feeling of fire creeping up from his gut and into his throat, leaving an uncomfortable and sometimes unbearable sensation.
Fortunately, his mind appeared to slow. The tune of Slipping Through My Fingers echoed repeatedly like a broken record. It was a song he held close to him, a reminder of his mom every time he heard the well constructed lyrics.
That’s when he felt it. The phantom brush of a hand around his waist, a body pressed up against his back, the whisper of a breath and the words I’ve got you, keep holding on.
He was shocked out of the memory, his body shooting up with a sharp gasp. His heavy breathing and heart throbbed in his ears, much like the train that barreled across the tracks right by the house.
Wilson rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion suddenly making its way through his body. He wanted so badly to have control over himself, but it felt impossible when everything in his life felt like it was going to shit. Any possible hope for him was just out of his reach.
A buzzing sound made his head turn to the side, his phone lit up with two notifications. Blinking a few times, his eyes adjusted to see the name that made his breathing hitch. Finley.
The first message he had sent was a news article: Another town in Northern Texas struck by an EF4.
Wil stared blankly at it before turning up his volume to listen to the voice message underneath it.
“Yet again, another one just appeared out of the blue. The storms haven’t been this catastrophic in a very long time, especially in the southern border of tornado alley. It’s been destroying our home and the people we care about, Wilson,” His voice was steady and determined, “We need to fight back, but I’m gonna need your help for it.” The message stopped.
Wil inhaled deeply through his nose, eyes closing as his head dropped low.
All of this was feeling like a sign to him. However, his next decision was either gonna be a mistake, or finally a necessary fresh start.
Somehow, it felt like both.
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