Scarlet Billows (Brallon)

iv

anyone else imagine everyone in the 60s sounding like a Kennedy?

like. that's kinda what i base dallon's voice around in my head.

he just sounds like he's gonna be president.

(basically, just delete the significance of the letter 'r' in most words. that's a boston accent. like. 'carpenter' is 'cahpentuh.')

~

I didn't sleep a wink last night. Not because of Mack, but that stranger.

He knocked a couple more times, but I wouldn't answer the door for anything.

I definitely didn't know who he was, but he didn't look all that strange. Blue tailored suit. Slicked back dark hair with the eyes to match.

I guess it's just in my experience, but eyes tend to tell a lot about a person. Regardless of color, sometimes, you can tell whether or not a person is an open book and they haven't got any kinds of secrets to keep. Ryan's eyes are just like that, a golden honey colour that light up whenever he talks about anything at all. He'll tell you just about anything about himself, whether you asked or not, and you can tell he's that kind of guy from the second you meet him.

I think my eyes just tell you that I'm tired, but that's pretty dead on for today especially.

Luckily, for whatever reason, The Spoon's closed on Tuesdays. It's convenient sometimes, but a little odd when you think about it. I think I asked Frank about it once, and he said there's no real rhyme or reason behind it. It's just how it ended up.

That's just how it goes.

"Dallon?" My name lingers in the air before I really catch on that Ryan is calling me. He probably knocked before he spoke, just like he always does. He doesn't sound spooked or worried or particularly unhappy. Maybe he just needs something, "Are you awake in there?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," My bedside lamp is on and illuminating my otherwise dark room since the curtains are drawn, but I'm still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answer as to who that stranger was. And why I lost hours of sleep over him, "You can come in, if you want."

Ryan slowly opens the door and walks in not donning his usual chipper personality and smile, but a rather uncharacteristic blank expression that draws my attention toward him. Enough for me to sit up and cock an eyebrow at him, "Can we talk?"

"Of course.." He usually doesn't ask, he just pours his heart out and I listen, "What's eatin' ya?"

"Can we talk about Breezy?" Oh, boy.. "J-Just for a second, I promise!"

Let me explain her..

Breezy Douglas is the one girl I ever loved. Sounds like an exaggeration, but.. It's not far off. I would spend so much of my time being so shy around her, especially in the classes we had together. And she was just so beautiful. Smarter than anyone I knew, too. And she had these.. distinctly hazel eyes that caught every light perfectly. She was different, but a good different. A special kind that made her stand out when all the other girls seemed to blur together and look the same.

And for a reason I've yet to figure out, she loved me, too.

Like I said, I don't know why, I don't know what I did, but she loved me.

And for a while, everything was good.

Then, of course, something had to get in the way.

She had to move. And it didn't help that her pop hated me because I barely talked in high school except around her or Ryan. I didn't have much to say around him. I don't talk much around people I don't feel I need to talk to, it's pretty simple.