The colors of the sky (part III)

While reading listen to:

COLORADO, Summer 1989

A car is speeding down the lonesome road, taking the two passengers to the mountains ahead. Inside, the smell of leader and cigarettes colored the atmosphere as the front open windows let in the warm summer air.

Gia's hair was dancing in the air, hand tracing the warm night air. Her eyes were still red, cheeks damp, and her breathing shallow. Lost in her own head, she let the summer air calm her pacing heart.

Nicks's eyes would occasionally glance at her, but other than that, he kept on driving. Where they didn't know, all he was certain of was that he didn't mind sitting beside her and going as long as she needed. The ghosts so expertly hidden by her charm and warm smile seemed to cough up to her, eating at her resilient strength. She needed an out, and without question, he offered her one. Facing each other, their eyes meet; hers a raging storm of all that had happened in the last week and his shaded with a soft loving concern and red outlines of anger. He was still gripping the steering wheel too hard, his chuckles white from the pressure.

"Do you have music?" Her voice came out soft and broken, and she silently cursed a little, hating how vulnerable it sounded. His eyes softened as he replied: "Yea, front glow compartment." He hated her broken voice.

She pulled out one of many cassettes, put it on the radio, and turned the volume to the max. The sound of Helter Skelter Remastered started blasting from the speakers. This is how they drove for the next hour; she lost in her head and him desperately holding back all the unanswered questions that formed the minute he was greeted by her frantic, panicked form.

Like every Friday night, Nick ended his shift at 5 pm and drow to the stadium to pick up his younger brother from the football practice. He ate dinner and went to take a shower. But, this Friday, Gia's panicked, broken voice interrupted hands scrubbing the dirt off his body.

"Is Nick at home?" The fractured voice sent chills down his spine. She sounded scared, and she was never frightened. He rushed to the foyer and there stood a shadow of a person that used to be so bright and full of color. Her left brow was bleeding, and her mascara left traces all the way to her pointed chin.

What the fuck happened to her? The question echoed in his head while his eyes focused on her tired red ones. The anger that rose inside his chest was that of a pure furry: "Gia, what....?" She held his eyes, a silent tear falling down her cheek: "I am sorry, I didn't know where to go, and I...I saw your car in the driveway." His hands ached to touch her, to foolproof that she was all right, to give her a piece of comfort. "Hey, It's okay. You can always come to me." She nodded; the knowledge that they were there for one another had already solidified in the past five months that they knew each other.

Finally giving into his need, he reached for her and gently grabbed her palm, intertwining her shaking fingers with solid, warm ones: "Come, we can talk in the kitchen." There he carefully sat her on the stool opposed his and bandaged her wound, attentive not to hurt her. He patiently wiped her mascara from her cheeks, and when he was done, his hands gently wrapped around her chin, lifting her eyes to his. "Gia...please put me out of my misery here. I need to know. What happened?" Her body trembled in his hands, and her eyes filled with tears. "I... I just couldn't take it anymore." His head was filled with new questions and information he needed to gather to satisfy the beast coming undone inside him. The violent need to protect grew every second he stared at her wounded eyes. His hands were aching to hit something.

And while his head was full of speculations, hers was utterly empty. After months, she was finally a quiet place of solace, not an enemy she needed to battle every waking moment. This here; him before her, his hands like a calm brand of steal that kept her body from collapsing and her mind from shattering, felt right. It felt peaceful, like a true home she was yearningly searching for most of her life. Looking at his eyes, full of worry, anger, and anguish, her soul finally took a breath of rest after years of being afraid, ready to give reins to someone else for some time.

Fatigue crept up as adrenaline abandoned her bloodstream, and she reached for his steadying warmth, comforting strength, and intoxicating smell. As his hands followed hers and tightly wrapped around her, she felt the words she dreaded to speak come up easily like a confession, pressing to be taken off the shoulders: "God..." she breathed into his neck. "I knew it would happen someday. And today, he actually did it; he hit me." As the last syllable left her lips, his vision turned scorching red, his body tensing into the mode of a fighter. Now he wanted to kill something. Preferably the one that dared to hit the source of his favorite colors. And as If the loud declaration put finality to something inside of her, she dried her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, unfolded herself from his embrace, sat up a little straiter, and looked him dead in the eyes: "I am going away," she professed.

"Where?" he found himself asking.

"I don't know. I just need to go. Somewhere I am not branded as weak, broken, and silent. Somewhere I can plant new roots, paint a new future in my mind and bloom anew. Just way, so when I wake up tomorrow, I can feel like this here; it was all just a bad dream." Her words were laced with years of anger, despair, and disappointment.

And as if his body understood the meaning of her words, it ached to pull her close, to gather her in his arms, unwilling to let her go. He asked the question that he knew played a minor role in her decision, but he still needed to hear the answer: "What about me?" Her hands found their way to his cheeks, caressing a light stubble as she wept: "No, Nick. You can't do this to me." Her lips traced the path of her hands, leaving sweet praises dedicated to his warm skin. He breathed a long breath of frustration, unwilling to let her go: "What about us?"

"You can't make me choose," she begged as his hands found their way to her hips, where they lifted her onto his lap. Her heat, her closeness helped tame the anger still boiling inside of him, helped to focus on her rather than on the murderous intention of destroying everything in his wake. And when she whispered in his ear: "I think I know now why I came to you," his mind finally concentrated just on her. How her body was molded against his like a piece of a lost puzzle, how her lips were leaving deliciously wet imprints on his neck, and her hands were locking against his neck. How she was here, in his arms, safe and sound. Needing her even closer, his arms found their way to her back, desperate to feel her skin under his fingers.

She felt the change, how he was returning to her, from the faraway place he was residing in moments ago. Her mind present with a new clarity she gained in his embrace, she continued her confession: "When it happened, my mind was blank except for your face. All I saw in the meads of the initial shock was your eyes smiling at me. I... He was provoking me for the entire week, Nick. I felt like I was walking a careful line, and every breath could tip me over to the abyss. I was waiting for it, hoping it finally happened so it could put me out of my misery. And then I ran to you. Cause I am done with my father. Finished. I am not going back there, ever." It was the kind of admission even she was surprised by. From where did the finality in her words, bones come from?

He felt it, too, surprised by the feeling that this here was something that would alter the direction of his life forever.

Then feeling bold, with her lips a whisper from his, she whispered: "You color my world, Nick. Take me away. Please..."

He expected his mind to fill with all the reasons he shouldn't follow her, with all the obstacles and all the warning bells telling him to stay put, to wait, to think this through. But all he saw was their future together, somewhere she could breathe freely, shine like the colors of the sky they used to watch late in the afternoon.

"Gia..." he breathed. Her hand brushed his hair, her lips lightly kissing the corner of his parted ones, where she urged: "Come with me." It scared him that the confirming answer pressed effortlessly against his tongue. Still, there was a small part of him wondering If this was a spur-in-moment decision. If she will feel the same when the sock of the situation will settle.

Feeling his resisting thoughts, she took his head in her hands, and it felt like she was holding the entirety of him when she looked at his eyes, this time hopeful. She firmly pressed her forehead against his and spoke: "Decide on me. Decide on us." Her soft, bright voice left him without the strength to object. He answered with his lips pressing to her soft ones, painting on them all his anger, anguish, concern, and need for her. The possession was ultimate, leaving them no room for objections, as their souls intertwined and danced like two halves, finally meeting their other match.

...

Parking their car, they made a track to the top of a small hill. There, as the sun painted his goodbye in the sky, they made a small fire near a beautiful rock with an engraved north and south.

The comfortable silence between them spoke of the soft understanding, a promise to reach, look and guide each other continuously. Finally, in the last impressions of the new gorgeous view ahead, Gia softly admitted: "I wish I could be a sunset. I wish I could shine as beautifully as the orange does, overflow into the soft pink and then disappear into the magic of night stars."

It was a silent wish spoken into existence, whom she wanted to become from the ashes she left behind.

She didn't know that in Nick's mind, she was already all that. She was the energy of bold orange, the softness of the pink, and the mystery of dark blue. In his eyes, she was everything the sunset before them was. And at that moment, he made it his life mission to show her just how beautiful she was.

For now, his arms slid around her, and she finally found comfort, a place she would begin to call home. The fire before them warmed their bodies, rocking her to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

And looking at that fire, he'd make deals with ghosts in flames for her. He would beg them to leave her be, to abandon that beautiful soul, that lively creature he came to adore. He would offer himself in return, his forsaken soul, just to see her smile again. And it surprised him how easy the choice would be; If he had to choose, he would put her happiness over his in a heartbeat.

...to be continued for one last time