the color fic

the real thing

He sat on the rooftop and let his hanging legs swing from it.

"So, how was today?" A sugary chocolate voice said to him. Like the kind of expensive chocolate that you get from a Jacque Torres store. Good chocolate that you enjoy the taste of and get for at least 10 dollars.

"It was fine." The replying voice was deep, but soft and velvety.

"Are you sure? You don't seem to act it."

"So maybe it was a little grey."

"Dark grey, or hazy grey?"

"...Both. The kind of grey that people often swim in."

"People don't swim in cement."

"Not on Earth, they don't. But they do on other planets."

"Why, have you been to other planets?"

"I know that anything we don't do here on Earth gets done somewhere else."

"Wow."

"I know, right?"

Then Pent heard a shout from his apartment. The hazy, grey-brown-red apartment that he shared with Smack. The house was also orange. The only thing in the house that was crisp and clear and cool, with shades of blue-green-purple, was Smack. Pent liked that he and Smack were polar opposites, but they got along.

"PENT, WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Oh! I'm coming, Smack." He waved a kind goodbye to Smack and climbed down the fire escapes.

He got down to his open window and slid in like slime oozing into a container. Except that he was a little more solid.

"Yo," He muttered.

"Pent, were you and Shelby talking again?"

".....Yeah."

"I could tell. You and she describe the world with odd things, like colors and the scents of months, and... Oh, just beautiful things. I wish I made you as happy as your imaginary girlfriend does."

"She's not imaginary!"

"She died a few years ago."

"She never died!"

"She's not real anymore, Pent. She died in your arms."

"But she IS! I know it! I've given her hugs, I....."

"It's a good thing that you can cope." Smack walked away to his bedroom.

"W-What....?" Pent felt all the words he ever spoke and ever could have spoken drain from him.

He felt like he was in a nightmare and he wanted to wake up. He tried to get back outside to Shelby, who would still be there for him, but the window was locked. He sauntered to his bedroom, arms hung down.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, Shelby."

"Hmm?"

"How are you always where I need you to be?"

"I'm fairly reliable, if I do say so myself."

"Wow."

"You need some sleep, Pent. You look dull and faded. You look like acid washed jeans."

"But people like acid washed jeans."

"And people love you," Shelby said.

"Do they love me 'cause I'm like acid washed jeans?"

"They love you 'cause you're like you."

"Wow."

"Go to sleep. You clearly need it."