𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 ☾ 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

six

Leah exited her room just as they rounded the hallway with a frustrated expression on her face, calling after her mother as she attempted to braid red ribbon into her long inky black hair. She stopped at the sight of them, her dark eyes casted down to their still-intertwined hands, their own eyes following hers, not having realized that they were still conjoined. "Gross," was all she said before she continued down the hall and presumably into the kitchen where her mother had been since the early morning, cooking up a rather large feast for the pow wow later.

Noa's face reddened at the older girl's words, suddenly feeling shameful of her hand in Seth's, and the joy she felt from it suddenly vanished. She attempted to unlink their hands but found Seth's grip on her own had tightened only a bit, a silent sign that he had no intentions of letting her go as they continued down the hall and into his room. While he fished for his notebook that contained the assignment -his teacher apparently liked the idea of them turning it in on pencil and paper rather than traditionally typed up as it seemed more raw and authentic- Noa made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed, the two used to this routine they had fallen into during their time together. She glanced up at his walls and noticed that they were bare, her mouth pulling down into a frown as she asked, "hey, what'd you do with all your posters?"

Seth offered her a glance over his shoulder while he pulled his supplies from his school bag, an unsure look on his face. He brought them over to the bed, opening up the notebook to the last page they had been working on before gazing up at his now-empty walls, refusing to meet Noa's eyes. "They were just a little childish; I'm sixteen. . .can't have soccer posters plastered everywhere like I'm a kid."

Her frown deepened as she watched him shrug nonchalantly, seeing through his exterior and knowing he didn't seem to happy about his bare walls. "Well, I'm not sure who told you there was an age limit on posters but, I liked them; they made your room seem lived in, more personal, more you. We never stayed in one place long enough for me to ever personalize my room so seeing yours filled with so many things that you love makes me happy...and a bit envious," she admitted, staring up and pointing at the spaces where the posters used to be. "Look, you had them up for so long, there's outlines. What a blessing, to stay somewhere for so long that your absence leaves a mark."

Seth turned his gaze to her, watching as she stared up at the walls with a somber expression. "I guess I never really looked at it like that," he said after a while of silence, not knowing what to say as he wasn't very good with words, at least in his mind he wasn't.

"When something's been in our lives for so long, we don't really think about the impact until..." she trailed off as her eyes swept over the once lively room, though her mind was on something else, someone else. She shook her head, apologizing as she said, "we're not here for theatrics, we're here for poetry, right? Let's get it done then."

When he didn't respond immediately, she took the notebook from his hands to distract herself from the well of emotions building up inside of her. There were times where she was happy, blissfully ignorant of what had just occurred a month ago and others, she found herself crying over the smallest of things; the other day, she bawled herself to sleep on the couch after she saw an awfully sad commercial about shelter animals and refused to watch tv for the rest of the day because of it. Grief was confusing. She didn't even seem to notice that she was doing his work for him until he shifted his weight on the bed awkwardly, causing her to look up at him. Instead of looking amused at not having to do work, he seemed to be also having an internal struggle he had yet to voice.

Noa nudged him, "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad about the posters, I didn't mean it." He shook his head, assuring her he wasn't hurt over her words and he actually planned to put them up once he was back home from the pow wow. "No it's not that it's just..." he trailed off slowly, his eyes casting down to the last poem that was needed in order to claim his winter assignment finished. There was only one more line needed and Noa held the pen lazily over the area in preparation to write it. She caught on after a while, surprising them both by reaching for his hand that sat on his lap and intertwining it with her own.