Gray

Humans.

Humans have always been painfully ignorant. It’s something that we feed on; we thrive on pretending that things are a certain way. We like our world the way it is, thank you very much, and we refuse to believe anything else.

Perhaps our heads are just too grossly enlarged. I myself often can’t see past my revolting ego.

Hypothetically – because, let’s face it, when given a tough situation, we’d all like to pretend that everything is hypothetical and we’re all just a part of a twisted experiment, being tested on by a madman – let’s assume that something has just been revealed that completely and entirely rearranges our pleasant, little world as we know it. This something is mind-boggling. It’s a punch to the gut.

If this were to alter our beliefs, our day-to-day routines, or any other aspect of our cut-and-paste lives, we’d be less likely to believe it. Our minds would automatically set up traps and obstacles that this truth would have to get past in order to finally pierce our thick craniums. And even then, we’d want to believe that it was an illusion, a magic trick.

Believing in things that one has always assumed to be false or fictional is, of course, even more difficult than simply being presented with a particularly absurd idea.

Because the worst thing is having to admit that we’ve been wrong for our entire lives.

Humans.



In general, I like to think of myself as a level-headed person; true, I wouldn’t say that my metaphorical feet have always remained on the ground and more than once, I’ve been carried away all-too-easily by ideas of grandeur, but all the same, I usually have a knack of staying calm and thinking rationally during situations that one might deem a bit stressful.

And yet, the words that came tumbling out from between H’s lips (I’m not entirely sure that “tumbling” is the proper term, as the tiny sentence was stated very matter-of-factly and not at all in a tumbling manner.) caused my heart beat to speed up and my knees to tremble. I think I may have even begun sweating a little.

Despite all of these awkward bodily reactions, I still wanted to believe that I had enough sense in me to respond with a logical retort. My reply, however, was nothing short of hysterical.

“You…wh…mm…ima…huh…Who now?” I stammered, after a solid two and a half minutes of staring down at my boot-covered toes with my mouth agape and my right eye twitching in a severely unattractive manner. I didn’t dare raise my eyes to look at H’s face; I could imagine my beet red cheeks and my hair sticking to my sweaty forehead.

“Hades,” he replied, his voice patient, “You know. Greek god. Ruler of the Underworld. The bad guy of the so-called Greek ‘mythology’. Pluto, I suppose, if you’re Roman but I prefer Hades.” I shuffled my feet, standing so that one foot was on top of the other. My mouth remained shut, but H didn’t elaborate any more than he already had, possibly believing that I was understanding what he was telling me. To be quite frank, however, this was a large idea to swallow.

Let us examine this from an analytical point of view (or, rather, as analytical as can be).

My mind ran through a million excuses for why H quite obviously had to be lying. It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. Hades didn’t exist – he was a part of mythology. He was just a story.

And yet.

And yet, I had already seen so much.

I had watched H emerge from a wall of fire, and I still doubted him? Only moments ago, I had almost stepped into a strange portal; I had almost grabbed onto a mysterious, shadowy hand that threatened to pull me into the unknown. H had kept me from that, whatever-the-hell it was. I still refused to be believe him? He had entered my dreams. Despite all of the warnings and all of the signs, I had come to trust this man.

I still wanted to believe that he was lying to me?

Fucking humans.

“Hades,” I tested the name out on my lips, but it felt so foreign, so alien. My eyes remained trained on my feet, for fear of H’s expression.

“Yes, Hades,” I heard his voice say lightly.

“Do you believe me, Tawny?”

It might have seemed an easy question from a glance, but my throat felt raw and my head felt dizzy. So much had occurred, but it was difficult for me to form a proper response.

“I…” The words caught in my throat as I tried desperately to find an ending to my answer.

“I…”

H was patient and remained silent, but I simply wished he would say something. I expected him to tell me that it was all some stupid prank, that everything I had seen up until now had been all smoke and mirrors.

But despite my ignorance, I knew he wouldn’t say such a thing.

“I believe you.”

Finally, my eyes wandered up from the ground to meet H’s face. His ebony eyes were frozen on my features, but they betrayed no emotion. His jaw was set and his mouth barely agape, perfect lips parted ever-so-slightly. His hair had fallen into his face, but he showed no sign of remedying that. The only hint of feeling that I could detect, was the slight crinkle near the corners of his eyes and mouth.

H was smiling.

Whether he was genuinely happy or simply relieved that he wasn’t being called a liar, I couldn’t tell. But I didn’t care – a smile is a smile.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke; we simply watched each other, H with his tiny and nearly non-existent smile, I with my confused expression and slightly trembling frame. H seemed to have noticed this, for the smile on his face fell entirely and he looked away from my eyes to stare at the glowing fire that lit the dark room up.

“Are you afraid?” he asked me in his quietest of voices.

“No.”

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

“I’m cold,” I told him at once, the deception obvious on my face.

“Liar,” H looked back to me, inclining his head a bit, “I don’t blame you for being scared. It’s…a natural reaction, I suppose.” I swallowed hard, trying to gather as much courage as I could to show H that I wasn’t afraid, no matter how afraid I truly was.

“Should I be scared?” I wanted to know, listening to H chuckle darkly.

“Tawny, you know my deepest, darkest secret,” he explained, folding his arms across his chest, “Not only has it been the best-kept secret for millennia, but it is also a very powerful secret. Did you ever to stop to think that, perhaps…I don’t want any mortals to know?” H flashed me a dangerously wicked smile, his black eyes glinting in the fire. My eyes widened slightly, but I remained silent, not wanting my trembling voice to give away my fright. H took a step closer to me slowly, a deadly expression and devilish smirk on his face.

“Now that you know…how do I know you won’t tell anyone?” H went on, taking another step toward me.

“No one would believe me,” I replied boldly, at which H laughed emotionlessly. Without realizing it, I had moved backward a couple of steps, in order to remain a safe distance from him.

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” H shot back, folding his hands behind his back and stepping toward me once again, “You can be quite convincing, when you want to be.” I wasn’t positive about what he meant by that, but I didn’t allow my mind to delve too deeply. I didn’t want to be afraid of H, but in all honesty, I was. It was a strange feeling, being afraid of a man whom I had known for a moderate amount of time and one whom I had come to trust. Yet it was a feeling that I couldn’t shake.

“Gods aren’t supposed to mingle with mortals,” H informed me, taking yet another step in my direction. Meanwhile, I took a step back and found myself with my back against the wall, with nowhere to run should things turn ugly (not that I entirely expected things to do so, but it never hurt to be prepared).

H had managed to mention the one thing that I had somehow overlooked in his original confession. It was a small word, but it had so much power and so many meanings.

God.

H was a god. I was a mortal. Saying the sentences in my head sounded so simplistic, but it took my frightened state of mind to an entirely new level. H was capable of things that I hadn’t thought about in my dizziest daydreams. I could drop dead at the snap of his fingers.

That was my thinking, anyway.

I immediately began tripping over my words, stammering to reassure H that nothing was wrong and I wouldn’t tell a soul about him.

“Mingling?” I laughed nervously, pressing myself back against the wall as he came closer still, “There’s no mingling going on. Just piano lessons, really. The occasional Audrey Hepburn movie, I suppose, but no mingling. None. Whatsoever. No need to worry. What does that even mean, anyway? Mingling. Mingling. Sort of weird, really. Who needs it, though? I can do without mingling. Definitely.” I felt nervousness crease every part of my insides, causing thoughts of what would happen next to swim through my mind.

To my surprise, however, a tiny – but genuine – smile turned H’s lips up at the corners.

“Are you saying that we haven’t been mingling?” he wanted to know, drawing closer to me still so that we were now only a foot apart. I froze against the wall, my eyes locked in place by H’s own.

“Oh, well, we…Would you say that we’ve been mingling?” I asked as cautiously as I could.

“I’d say that as far as mingling goes…we’ve been mingling,” H replied.

“Okay. We’ve been mingling.” Surprisingly, my fear was beginning to ebb away as mine and H’s banter began to take over.

“Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t enjoyed mingling with me?” H wanted to know and I tried to hide the smirk from my face as he asked this.

“I’m not sure if it’s tactless for me to say this right now, but I thought you should know that the term ‘mingling’ is beginning to sound vaguely sexual,” I told H matter-of-factly, feeling a blush color my cheeks. Because sex is not really something you talk about with your piano instructor. H let out a chuckle, but there was nothing but merriment in his laughter, something which made me smile internally. His laughing stopped just as soon as it had started, though, and he regarded me with an inquisitive expression.

“You’re a curious mortal, Tawny,” H informed me, folding his hands politely behind his back once again.

“You yourself are particularly perplexing,” I retorted, and then, just to test it out, lightly added, “Hades.” The two of us exchanged a glance, as though something between us had altered. And it most certainly had.

“What if…for now…you continue referring to me as H?” he suggested, looking as though he would much rather prefer it. To be honest, calling him Hades seemed strange to me, as I had spent so much time simply calling him H.

“I’d love to,” I gave him a smile, relaxing against the wall, “Does this mean that…you aren’t going to do away with me?” H raised his eyebrow in an amused fashion.

“Do away with you?” he gave a grim laugh, “Honestly, Tawny, even after all of this time you’ve spent getting to know me, do you still believe I’m as horribly malicious as all of the stories say I am?” I looked down at my toes, feeling awful for suggesting that he would harm me in any way. I shuffled my feet abashedly, wanting to apologize for being so accidentally brutal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…I just –”

One of H’s fingers slipped below my chin and tilted my head up so that I would look him in the eyes. There was no anger in his ebony orbs, simply forgiveness. I saw his mouth form the smallest smile I thought possible and I returned it, enjoying the feeling of his skin on mine. It still felt strange to touch him, as we had done so little of it, but I liked it, nonetheless.

“You have to keep it a secret, Tawny,” H practically whispered, his finger still holding my head up, “Can you promise me that you’ll do that?” I didn’t have to think twice about my answer.

“I promise,” I breathed, not able to look away from his eyes as they twinkled in my direction.

And then, the strangest thing happened. It wasn’t something that I had expected, nor was it anything that I had ever in my wildest dreams thought that H would do.

He pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me tightly and holding me close.

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice and I could hear the genuineness in my ear as I carefully and awkwardly put my arms around him to return the embrace. H sounded so vulnerable; it was bizarre that he didn’t sound as confident as he usually did. Perhaps it meant something to him that I was keeping his deepest, darkest secret. Perhaps it meant something to him that I was hugging him back. I tried to think of something that would sum up everything that I was thinking and feeling, but somehow, I was incapable.

“Don’t mention it,” was all I said.

And so we didn’t.