Returning to Life

He met her on a Saturday.

It was raining and every store he had walked into felt like a dark, creepy basement with some king of tragedy lurking around the corner. If you asked him, he wouldn’t be sure if it was because of the weather or the fact that his brain inherently lived in that kind of empty state.

And if you asked him, he would lie to say that he had definitely taken his pills that morning. He would probably say it was just the weather. The truth was, he hated the thought that he would have signed his brain over to prescription pills. The very idea of it kind of frustrated him. People thought that it had made him better, though.

He couldn’t explain that it made him feel like his mind was tightly confined in a straight jacket. All of his creative outlets seemed cut off and he couldn’t really stand it. It wasn’t him.

He used to write.

Songs, poems, short stories. They say a depressed mind can write the best stuff but with those pills, he was blocked off from the hurt and the pain and everything that had ever breathed life into his writings. It really just wasn’t him.

His brothers birthday was coming up - that night, actually, and he still hadn’t managed to leave the house to get her gift. He had work or he was too busy staring at a black television screen. Which is why he was out on a particularly rainy day when everyone usually kept to themselves in the confines of their homes.

He was about to give up in all honesty, and was going to gift his brother with an excuse instead, when he was just about to leave the store he was in. He couldn’t focus on anything - his mind was too push and pull, there was too much going on up there and he wanted to bash his head against a wall more than anything. He couldn’t be here right now - he didn’t have the energy to flip through clothing and cd racks and it wasn’t that he didn't care, but he just didn’t care.

He adjusted the beanie on his head before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, where he clenched them into tight fists, his nails just long enough to create a dull stab that he needed. Honestly, Luke would have left, he really would have but when he turned around, he was met with a pair of vibrant eyes. Okay, so he meant vibrant in the way that they seemed to have a dance to them - they were only brown - but they seemed a lot brighter than his own blue eyes, which took him back a little.

“Hi, I’m Faye!” She smiled, “is there maybe something I could help you with?” Her smile never fell from her lips, even though Luke hadn’t responded right away. Hands still in his pockets, he took a small step back from her, figuring she must have worked there. Even so, he found himself wondering how she could look that happy in a retail job. She continued to stare at him, as if she had expected some kind of answer, and Luke wasn’t even really sure what had urged him to nod his head. Honestly, he thought he was shaking it, and it was only when she stood a bit straighter that he realized he had accepted her offer.

“Great! Do you have an idea what you’re looking for?” He followed her like a lost puppy when she turned on her heels and began weaving through the isles, she looked back at him over her shoulder, through elongated lashes and still had a smile gracing her lips. Somehow, the fist he was holding inside his pockets loosened and he gave her a small shrug.

“Not really, I'm Luke, by the way,” he said quietly, moving his eyes to look at the items in the store. Nothing really stood out to him, but then he was sure that it was because his eyes somehow did a beeline right into hers. He hadn’t been so focused on anything for a while. He was forced to break eye contact when she turned her head away from him, so he tried to look at the contents of the store again, but quickly became bored. Luke hated shopping - that was why he was still wearing these skinny jeans from years back that he had ripped at the knee in a skate-boarding wipeout.

Luke noticed she had stopped walking a minute too late and bumped into her for a brief moment. He was ready to apologize, but she laughed as she stumbled back. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone so light hearted and smiley and he didn’t really know what to make of it.

“Okay, 'Luke',” she giggled, “well, is it for you or someone else?” Luke thought for a minute that this girl must have had some really great uppers, and even thought about asking who her doctor was, because his was shit and all his pills did was make him feel even worse.

“My brother,” he sighed, “it’s his birthday.” Her hands connected at the front of her body and her skin tinted pink, and he absolutely couldn’t figure out what she was so puffed about, but it was somewhat endearing. He had a feeling that everything she did would have that effect on anyone she met.

“That’s nice!” She smiled, “when is it?”

Luke gave her a sheepish look and darted his eyes to the ground before he looked at her again, “Like, a few hours.”

The girl let out a laugh, for the first time bringing a hand out to cover her lips as she shook her head. Luke only watched the way her eyes crinkled, the way her dark hair swayed as her head moved. He couldn’t help but feel slightly tranced by her energy, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh or really even smile. He was distracted. She distracted him and though he knew it was just because of this radiance she had given off, he found himself not really wanting to go anywhere without her presence. Of course, that was crazy for him to even think, but he found he couldn’t entirely help it - she was a contrast to him.

“Alright, come on,” she said once she had finished laughing, “tell me a bit about him, what does he like?”

So Luke walked through the store with this girl, mumbling small things about his brother in order to help figure out what to buy him. Admittedly, his mind had been elsewhere, and he suddenly remembered a time last year when a crazy lady on the street caught Luke by the wrist and told him a whole bunch of things about himself and his future. He couldn’t quite remember what she had said, but he did remember that she had told him his aura was no good. It was black.

He watched as Faye pulled out a pair of jeans and smiled, explaining something about the make of them, but he couldn’t pay attention to anything other than her eyes for some reason. The way they glinted was brighter than the lights in the store.

If his aura was black, then Faye’s had to be a bright white.