Hood

1

He never knew what it was about her that struck his interest.

Maybe it was her soft black hair, a color that reminded him of the dark, starry skies he used to look at with his father when he was younger. Maybe it was the chocolate color of her eyes, the same eyes that seemed to be begging him to explore further into her mind. Maybe it was the confidence she had, or the way she never stopped making his heart flutter with every word and movement. Or maybe it was the secrets she held. The dark past that held so much more than he could've imagined. Maybe it was simply because she was a mystery.

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It was a rather sunny morning for an October in San Francisco.  The cooler air slightly calming to it's residents, or rather those who were awake at the time of 7:26 am on a Saturday. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky with a beautiful rose color. It was especially admirable to a certain 17-year-old, who was sitting on the roof of his house, with a cigarette dangling between his lips. His dark hair seemingly uncontrollable and blowing in the faint breeze. He inhaled through his nose, taking in the rough scent of nicotine and the crisp leaves from the tree beside him. After taking one last drag on his cigarette, he quickly put it out on the shingles of his roof before discarding it in a pile that had built up over the week. He closed his eyes and breathed in the world around him one last time before crawling down through the open window that led to his bedroom.

He turned around and closed the window, taking in the sudden warmth of his room. He didn't bother to change his sweatshirt, though it smelled of the cigarette he recently smoked. He walked across the room to his wide bedside table and grabbed his phone off of it's charger, then making his way out the door and down the stairs. Once reaching the bottom of the staircase he turned to his right to see his mother at the stove, most likely making herself breakfast. "Morning Ronan," she says to the boy, flashing him a quick smile. "How come you're up so early?"

"I told Mason I'd go with him to the bridge again. He wants to take some pictures for some photography contest he's entering in," Ronan responds while walking over the the cabinet and opening it, grabbing a glass and filling it with the water from the sink next to him.

"Photography? Ever thought about doing that? I"m sure you'd be good at it hon," his mother said while cooking them scrambled eggs.

"Nah. I tried it once but I couldn't stick with it. Didn't peak my interest."

"I really wish you'd start painting again. You are so talented and I miss seeing you do something you love so much. What happened?" She turns to him taking her eyes off of the stove.

"Ma you know what happened. I can't do it anymore," he said sighing while taking a drink from his water. He'd had this conversation with her countless times. After the incident with his Dad, he's been unable to get the thoughts out of his head. Sadly this caused him to stop his habit of painting, one in which he'd picked up as a child and had gained lots of skill from. He set down his now empty glass in the sink, and walked back over to the same cabinet, grabbing plates for the two.

"I know honey. I'm sorry," his mother breathed out.

"It's fine. Might wanna go back to those eggs though Ma. You're this close to burning the house down," he says while ginning and holding up his pointer finger and thumb to symbolize his point. Her eyes widen and she quickly turns back around to the rather burnt eggs. She lets out a breathy laugh and turns off the stove. After dishing out food for the two, she set the plates on the small table in their kitchen, and then poured two glasses of juice for them.