"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have offered to let you come over, I'm sorry I scared you, I don't know what I was thinking." Bruno is pacing in back and forth, keeping his distance. His curls bounce with each step.
"So what did you want to... explain in person?"
"I know you won't believe me," he says. "So please. Did you think about some things you want to know?"
"Hm... well my cat back home... he has surgery soon.... so I guess that. What does this have to do with your glowing eyes and rats, Bruno." He flinches. You think back to your earlier... revelation.
"I... just stand in the middle there." He worries his hands together. You oblige.
He comes over with the bucket and starts... pouring sand on the floor? You don't even know what to say anymore and give up, watching him finish the circle. He pours a few smaller piles in the middle, and sits down, gesturing for you to sit across from him. You humor him, wondering what kind of drugs this man is on. He lights a match. Where did he get the matches? Is this even safe? What the fuck is happening? You watch quietly as he scoops little piles of leaves into the sand in the middle, and lighting them one by one. He holds out his hands. You just stare at them. They're calloused, but soft looking.
"I forgot to say what I was thinking. Oops," Bruno laughs awkwardly. " Hold on." You lightly put your hands in his, unsure, feeling your heart jump a little. Without warning, he grasps tighter, surprising you. You go to tug your hands away, but his grip is firm. His eyes start to glow again, and you try to jerk away again, suddenly spooked. He doesn't let go.
"Please hold on." he says sternly. You do, surprised at the sudden change in tone.
Instead, he takes a big breath and closes his eyes as the circle of sand around begins to.... glow? Confused and paralyzed with fear, you watch with your mouth open as the sand begins to float, forming swirling shapes and forms into a dome around you both. Wind starts to whip at your hair, and a strong gust almost knocks you over.
You look back at Bruno, terrified. He stands up, and you realize you had been clutching his hands so tight, your knuckles turned pale. You pull your hands away, pushing them into your pockets. He looks solemn, standing taller than you've seen him yet, eyes glowing bright. The sand forms a dome around you, whistling.
"What is this, Bruno?" You whisper.
"My gift, y/n." He pauses, looking intently behind you. "I can see the future."
You turn around, following his intense gaze behind you. Formed by glowing grains of sand, the image of a pet carrier forms. Sprinkles lays in it, curled up and ears pinned back. He bats at hands that reach into the scene, hissing. Your heart twists as you see how scared he is. The scene disintegrates.
Now a syringe comes into view, and the cats eyes close. That image disintegrates as well.
You turn to Bruno, who is watching just as intently, frowning. His hair waves in the wind, and his clothing whips around similarly. His expression is intense, eyes massive and wide, staring ahead.
You stick your hand into the sand where Sprinkles had been, fingers trailing in the tendrils of green. It hurts as the grains hit your skin, but feels warm. This can't be fake. It wouldn't make sense. It would explain the eyes.
The scene shifts again, and you see Sprinkles at home, curled up on the couch. You let yourself breath again. Then he gets up, turning away from the camera.
His entire right back leg... it's gone. Your breath hitches in your throat and tears prick your eyes, burning.
As Sprinkles jumps off the couch, the scene dissipates and the sand falls. You sit down, suddenly dizzy. Sprinkles was supposed to go in just for surgery for the cancer on his foot... But his leg....
"What happened to his leg?" You cry, looking up at Bruno, who is now holding a plate of green glass. He just sits down next to you, handing you the glass. It's Sprinkles, the moment he stood up. You stare at the empty space and start to sob.
"I dont know. I don't know those things. I just see what will happen. I don't don't know the when. Or the why." His voice is soft, but wavers with anxiety. He winces as your emotions heighten.
"Next week... he goes in next week." You stop speaking, realizing you'll just start sobbing. First glowing eyes and rats. Now he's some sort of magical prophet. And now Sprinkles is losing a leg. He had been your cat since elementary school. Maybe it was a complication. Or a new tumor they found. Oh god. You curl up into yourself, for the first time in a long time completely lost for what to do.
Your worry is interrupted by a very light pressure on your back. Bruno must have put his hand there. You lean into it, it's comforting.
"What's his name?"
"Sprinkles."
Bruno chuckles. Then he sighs.
"This is why I don't like using it. The gift, that is. It hurts people. People see things they don't want too," he sniffs. "It gets to me, too." He speaks softly and gently, almost as if he's afraid of what he's saying.
His comforting hand turns into a soft and gentle hug, barely touching you. It's a little awkward, but it's nice. His head rests on your shoulder in a strange sideways hug.
"That can't be comfortable."
"It's not." He chuckles. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and realize your a mess. You turn away from him to hide your face.
"I'll go clean my face up," you say quickly. He let's go of you and you find yourself disappointed. His hand darts into your vision, holding a wad of tissues.
"I came prepared. Besides, the bathrooms here are pretty creepy. You don't want to go into those." You grab the tissues, using one to blow your nose, another to wipe your cheeks. You wonder what he must have seen, how many times this had happened, that he was prepared to bring tissues.
Still looking away from him, you stare at the sand as you sit, which is now scattered all around you as if it had been here in the gym from the beginning. Bruno tries, and fails, to quietly blow his nose behind you, causing you to look at him. His eyes are normal again, save for a glassy look to them and a little red. Was he crying too? He gives you a goofy grin and shrugs.
"It just made me sad to see you sad, dont worry about it." He stands up.
"But I am worrying."
"Well, stop it." He says this part jokingly, trying to weave some humor into the situation as he half heartedly pushes the sand into piles with the side of his shoe in an obvious way to avoid eye contact.
"Hm." You aren't sure what to say, just watching him stir the sand around.
"Fine. Worry about it after we get out of here, eh?" He outstretches his hand and helps you up, holding on a second too long. You sense a hesitation, but he drops your hand and wipes his own on his sweatshirt.
"So, where to? Are you hungry? I can cook dinner back at my place. If you don't mind the rats." His goofy grin cheers you up a bit.
"Sure, Bruno. What do they have to do with the gift, though?"
"Oh! That one's easy. People got scared of my gift, I'm bad at people, I made friends with the rats. I can't like, talk to them, but we understand each other, ya know?"
He looks relieved, his bounce back in his step. "Oh! Uh, stay still," he says, looking intently at you. He gingerly places his hand on your chin, using his thumb to wipe off sand from your cheek. You must have missed it earlier.
Your eyes meet his as he brushes it off.
You don't think you've ever been this close to him before. He's just a tad taller than you, and close enough to you that a lone flyaway curl brushes against your forehead. Up close, his eyes are a pure, dark green. His eyelashes are surprisingly long. He looks tired. He looks more relaxed than ever. Keeping this gift quiet must have been a massive burden on him.
You both freeze at the realization, his hand still on your face, warm and soft. Your heart flips in your chest, and your mind races. He pauses.
"I wish I could use literally anything else." He brushes a little more off, then pulls away. He turns away and kicks the little sand piles he made minutes ago and interrupting the moment. "I hate sand. It gets everywhere."
You flinch away and he sticks his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat. The silence as he turns to the door and starts to walk out is deafening, save for the echoes of footsteps around the old gym.