Chapter 17 - New Colours

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For the first time in, well, ever, Virgil didn't slack off in the morning. Usually he'd find it nearly impossible to get out of bed to school, only getting out once it sank in that if he doesn't Emma would have to go to school with no breakfast, but today he couldn't wait to be out of the house. His mom was, as expected, already gone, and her absence was heavier than the usual now. Let's just put this out there – Emma wasn't doing well.

He'd learned this the other day when he called his mother to check on the two while they were out of town. Back then, skipping his last period and heading out to see Everest managed to get his mind off it to some extent, but now that he woke up to the sight of the sunlight stroking Emma's marble-pale face on the other side of the room, he already knew nothing would be able to get his mind off it this time.

His sister still slept soundly as he left their room and headed to the kitchen on light feet. If it was up to him, she'd be staying home today, but as always – it was up to Emma. When Emma wanted something, it happened; it'd always been this way with her. And Emma wanted to go to school like everybody else. In a way, he admired her for that. Not letting her illness be the same size as her. There was no doubt that in Emma's eyes, she was a normal kid with a whole life ahead of her.

As much as he knew it would pain him to see her again once she wakes up, Virgil was counting the minutes until she did – as previously mentioned, he was itching to go to school already. Leaving the apartment meant leaving depressing matters behind, and arriving at school meant seeing his friends. He could count on them to do anything in their power to get his mind off the matter, despite Roman being the only one aware of it.

"Good morning!" Emma chirped as she made her way into the kitchen. She already held a small blue hair brush in her hand; despite knowing how to do her own hair, she always preferred it when Virgil did it.

"Morning. Is your bag ready? Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yup!"

Virgil hesitated above the pan, where he was frying her breakfast. "And how are you feeling?"

"Okay," she said. Her skin had its morning paleness, and it made her freckles appear bolder and somehow sadder. "I want two braids today."

"On it. But only if you finish your breakfast."

"Even the broccoli?"

"Especially the broccoli."

Emma gave a dramatic, reluctant groan, but didn't seem to mind the vegetables as she ate. In fact, she never seemed to mind anything. Why is it always the purest people who get the worst luck? Virgil grabbed the brush she'd brought with her and sat down behind Emma to braid her hair as she ate. She had straight, thin hair that fell just below her shoulders, the colour of brown sugar. He didn't have to ask her what she meant by two braids – her hair was a bit too short for regular ones to fall perfectly. What Emma called a braid was the tiny ones that she'd like on the sides of her head, composed of thin locks that still allowed most of her hair to fall unbraided on her back. "Two" simply meant she wanted them on either sides. He knew it made her feel pretty – which it really did – so he didn't mind the amount of time it took him to do them every morning. As long as Emma gets to be what she always tries to be – a normal girl.

Their mother took the bus to work to leave them the car, and while Virgil felt guilt for it, he was grateful.

If Emma noticed he was quiet on their way to school, she didn't show. Instead she babbled on about her lessons and her friends as though there was something to be cheerful about. Maybe in her eyes there was; Emma seemed to take the very reason she's existing as a reason to be happy. Like it wasn't on the verge of ending. That was just another thing Virgil adored about her; her ability to, despite everything she knew about the world and about herself, stay in the present. Unlike himself. When he forgot to catch himself, Virgil's head tended to be constantly stuck in the future and in the past.

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