A Very Red Love (BoyXBoyXGirl)

Chapter 2: Looks Are Indeed Deceiving

"Look over there," Sirys said in barely a whisper. Very slowly I turned my head while Sirys kept his fingers firmly on my temples, a fear so intense in my stomach I thought I was going to be physically sick. On my bed sat a boy, maybe sixteen, with dusky blond hair and dark shadows underneath his blue eyes, as though he hadn't slept in weeks. He lifted a hand to wave at me. His mouth moved, obviously saying something, but I couldn't hear him. A frustrated expression crossed his face, and he looked to Sirys for help.

"Richie likes you," Sirys told me. "Your parents fight a lot, and he doesn't like that. But you never get angry, so he likes you best."

"Uh..." It was the only sound I could make. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Thanks, I guess...."

Richie's mouth continued to move. Sirys, looking a little embarrassed, turned to me. "He's asking if you're going to leave me."

I blinked, surprised. "Leave you? No, why would I do that?"

Richie beamed, the shadows beneath his eyes seeming to become a little less dark. He said something else, and Sirys continued, acting as his conduit. "Well, I did just show you a ghost, and I told you that I can talk to dead people. He says that you must be a really good friend to not run away from that."

I pursed my lips. "Well...it's not like you're hurting me. Sure, it's a little weird, but...I don't know. I feel like we're all a little different, in our own ways." I shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

Again, more movement from Richie's mouth. Sirys shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable for a brief moment. "He said a bad word," he relayed to me. "But he says you really know what you're talking about."

I felt my cheeks grow warmer. "Thanks, Richie."

Sirys, still keeping his fingers on my face, turned his head to Richie as though he'd called my friend's name. He didn't tell me any more of what Richie said to him for a few moments; I only heard Sirys' side of the conversation, and wasn't able to deduce much from it.

"If you think you're ready, I'll try to help." A few seconds passed as Richie continued speaking, and to my alarm Sirys' eyes filled with tears.

"I don't want you to go." Another pause.

"But what if I do?" A smile that seemed almost bitter graced Richie's pale face, and he said something more. Sirys looked down as though ashamed.

"So I guess I have to let you go. You'll be happy that way, right?" Richie paused a moment, then mouthed a reply. Sirys' lower lip quivered, and he seemed on the verge of bursting into tears.

"But why can't I have both of you?" His voice was barely above a whisper. I reached out a hand to touch his knee reassuringly. Even at such a young age, seeing him in so much visible pain hurt me; I hardly knew this strange boy, but from the hours that we'd already spent together, I knew I wanted to get to know him better, to make him hurt less. I wanted to pull his sadness away, hold it for awhile so that he wouldn't have to.

"Well," Sirys murmured, straightening up a bit with new resolve in his dark eyes. "I guess this is goodbye, then, even though I don't want it to be."

The last image I had of Richie before Sirys withdrew his hands was that of a tiny, sad smile. I watched in silence as Sirys reached out one arm toward the bed, to someone that I could no longer see, and curled his fingers around what I knew to be a hand much larger than his own. He closed his eyes; a well of tears trickled out from behind his lids, leaving dark spots on his pants as they dripped from his chin.

"Bye." With that one-word answer, Sirys dropped his hand and crumpled into a sobbing heap on the floor, tiny shoulders shaking. I reached out and gently pulled his head up to rest in my lap. The cold seeped from the room as he cried into my skirt like a lost child. I rubbed his back rhythmically. Only after his sobs had faded into sporadic hiccups did he sit up straight and wipe his eyes.