A/N: The formatting isn't perfect on yws, but it's far too much effort to perfect it.
i. (White)
My older brother sat alone in the café. On the table in front of him the cup of Golden Mao Feng, his favourite tea, was growing cold as he stared into space, engrossed in his reverie. His laptop, long since out of battery, sat in front of him, the screen reflecting the dying Autumn sun onto his right cheek. Dexter Gordon’s rendition of ‘Lady Bird’ played softly through speakers in each corner of the room which, coupled with a few ferns that looked fresh from Bunnings’ garden department, almost disguised the grease-joint’s lack of actual atmosphere.
The sun sank lower, its reflection creeping further up my brother’s cheek. As the golden glow became a fiery glare level with his eye he snapped out of his daydream with an almost physical jerk, appearing to be somewhat perplexed as to why he found himself in a second-rate coffee-house late on a Thursday afternoon.
He didn’t seem to notice me, despite the fact I was standing on the other side of a plate-glass window less than ten metres away, he probably had noticed me but chosen not to acknowledge me; hardly unusual, he did not miss much, and always seemed to take Theodore Roosevelt’s advice on diplomacy to heart.
Snapping out of his phantasy, my brother stood with his usual robotic jolt, collected his effects, and stalked towards the door. Despite being over six feet tall he passed through the crowded room like a vapour, seemingly unnoticed by the other patrons. As he walked through the door he turned and trained his stare, still slightly wide-eyed and intensely fixed from his earlier meditation, directly at me.
“Thomas,” I started, a little embarrassed although unsure why. He did not reply, only stared straight into my eyes for three or four seconds before nodding slowly once, the faintest hint of a smile curling the right corner of his mouth. Abruptly he turned and marched away in the opposite direction with long, determined strides.
That was the last time I ever saw my brother alive.
ii. (Yellow)
Thursday, December 15th, 2011
Ryan’s birthday today. 18 years old, finally, the youngest in our year. Picnic in the park. Ended in a mess but still a great idea. I had a blank notepad, asked everyone to write a list of some sort inside. Many funny ones.
Alice hunched over her diary, fluffy pink pen in hand, in accordance with her daily habit. She eschewed blogging, partly because she thought people with blogs were pretentious, conceited jerks, but mostly because she loved the feel of the paper and the fabric-covered hardback notebooks she wrote in. While she did feel a little vain in even keeping a journal, she found writing things down soothing.
Thomas’ one, however, was unsettling. He labelled it 1 to 13, but did not put any items on the list. When Selena asked him about he didn’t say anything, just drilled her with that intense stare of his until she was unnerved and left him alone. He’s good at unnerving people.
Taking a sip of her piping-hot tea, Alice thought about her boyfriend. Despite only being eighteen he seemed to intimidate most people he met. He was not particularly physically imposing, but his bright, steel-grey eyes always seemed to pierce straight through whatever he was looking at. Alice shivered as she thought about the way Thomas looked as her when he was upset with her; as if he could peel back everything and see he thoughts.
Things got weird after that. Thomas stopped talking. I know he can be quite introverted and doesn’t particularly like parties, but never like this before. He didn’t chat, didn’t laugh at funny stuff that happened, didn’t even sing Happy Birthday to Ryan. Just stared and stared. I took his arm and smiled up at him, trying to get any sort of response, but he just gave me a watery smile back and turned away.
He disappeared after that. Rachel asked me where he was, but I didn’t know. I didn’t find him for more than an hour, sitting alone on the far side of the hill. He must have been there a while, because his arms were already sunburnt. I sat down and curled up next to him, but he didn’t say anything, or turn towards me, or put his arm around me, nothing. I didn’t know what to do so I started crying, but I don’t think he even noticed that. Despite being a sunny afternoon in the middle of summer I felt so cold.
Recalling the afternoon, Alice began to cry as she wrote. She often wept while writing in her diary, and while she valued the catharsis she hated the way the tears made the ink run and caused the paper to warp. She was planning to head to Thomas’ house for dinner with him and his family, so she quickly dried her tears before it caused he make-up to run. Downing the last of her tea, she finished her journal entry.
Heading to Thomas’ for dinner. Hopefully he’ll be alright.
iii. (Green)
“Honey, would you mind making me a cup of tea while you’re up?”
“Kettle’s already boiling.”
“Thank you.”
“Alice is nice isn’t she?”
“Sure is. Quite a knock-out too. Thomas sure did land a good catch.”
“It’s so lovely when she comes round. She always seems so happy to be here.”
“Quite. But was it just me, or was Thomas less than thrilled about it tonight?”
“Yes, I was just thinking that. Maybe they’re fighting?”
“Hmm I don’t think so. I mean, he usually tells me about that sort of thing. Besides, do you think he would have invited her round if they were?”
“Right, good point. Still, weird. Did you hear him say anything?”
“No, not a word. He didn’t say anything to me when he came home from the picnic either.”
“He didn’t say anything to me either. Although he was quite sunburnt. I hope he’s alright. Maybe one of us should talk to him.”
“No, I think we should just leave him alone for a while. When he wants to talk he’ll come to us. He’ll be fine, he’s just a moody teenager. What’s the worst that could happen?”
iv. (Black)
oh hello back again havent seen you in a while you had been gone gone gone pestering some other poor fucker who didnt know any better no doubt doubt doubt I doubt you knew and I doubt I know I doubt I know any better either I know but no I knew once and thats good enough the second third fourth thirteen thousandth time round
