(Hiatus) Truce//RedCrackle

Chapter One

Gray POV

The morning was cold.

I felt heavy as I sat down in the coffee shop, a gust of chilly air winding its way through my legs and causing me to shiver. The lights twinkled tauntingly from the ceiling, hurting my eyes. I did my best to not look at them. A few minutes of me just mindlessly staring out the window passed, and I finally managed to stand and make my way to the counter. There was only one worker right now, a boy with short black curls who looked to be around 17. He smiled warmly at me, but I didn't have the strength for anything but a nod.

"I'm just gonna get a medium hot chocolate and a box of raspberry pastries." Zack and Ivy would be hungry.

"No problem, sir," the worker said, his green eyes looking down to tap the order out on a screen. "Anything else for you today?"

I shook my head slightly.

"Great, that's $7.50 for your total."

I pulled a crumpled ten from my pocket, making an effort to hand it to him instead of just tossing it over the counter. "Keep the change," I muttered, moving to lean against the waiting side of the counter. I tried for a smile once they brought out my drink and the box of goodies, but it felt more like a grimace and the action burned my face all the way home, even in the frigid early morning sunrise.

"Zack, Ivy, I'm back. Got you guys something to eat."

There was a muffled "in here" from down the hallway of the apartment we were all staying in. I slipped off my shoes and shuffled down to the last door, pushing it open slowly. Zack was laying on the bed, the single piece of furniture that occupied the room, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he sat curled in a fetal position, facing the wall. He craned his neck up to look behind him, and his blue eyes lit up a bit upon seeing me.

"Where's Ivy?" I asked, scanning the bare walls, as if she might magically appear through them.

"Right here." Zack lifted a blanket at his feet to show that the lump I had originally taken as a pile of pillows was his sister. Her back rose and fell softly as I watched. "She just fell asleep before you got here. Don't think she'll be up anytime soon."

"Well, I guess- save her some pastries." I grabbed three from the box and offered the rest to Zack. He sat up hesitantly, holding a hand to his stomach and sucking in a deep breath before taking it, opening it to look at the little tarts. "Thanks, dude. I haven't eaten in a while."

"I know. I'll see if I can make something tonight." I stepped back to the door, then paused, my eyes still trained on him as he took a bite. "Did you cut your hair?"

He nodded, mouth full, then shifted to move the blanket covering Ivy a bit more to reveal her head. They both had undercuts, Ivy's hair now shorn at the sides and the back, leaving a tangle of red curls on the top to match Zack's own style. "Last night. Ivy had a fit and got out the razor and the scissors. I thought she was gonna try something, but she just wanted to cut her hair. I let her cut mine, too. It was calming her down." His voice was quiet, and he blinked at me after the explanation, shoving the rest of the pastry into his mouth.

I simply nodded and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind me. I heard Zack whimper around his food as I walked to the kitchen, and I did my best to convince myself he would be alright without me getting in the way as I found the razor and the scissors on the table. I packed them both up into a cupboard, then swept up the fallen hair on the floor, tossing it into the trash. I sat on the floor under the microwave and sipped at my drink as the pastries warmed.

The floor was cold.

I shivered, cupping the hot chocolate and holding it to my face to press against my cheek. The microwave going off startled me, and I was quick to scarf down the treats, barely caring that the jelly burned my mouth. I was downing the hot chocolate when my eye caught on something- a flash of red.

Carmen's coat hung covered in dust inside a closet, the door slightly open and pushed aside further by the draft going through the building. The rips had been stitched up, the blood had been washed out. And I knew that maybe, maybe, it still smelled like her.

I felt the blood drain from my face, and barely made it to the bathroom toilet before retching up my breakfast as I shook, chest throbbing with tears in my eyes.

Just want to clarify two things real quick.
1. Whenever you see something called an interlude, it's a past memory.
2. This is not a happy story