Page 15 of Seeing Grayscale

His reasoning is valid, and I can understand his fears, but I can’t in good conscience let him leave this hotel in his current condition.

I can’t.

Whatever has possessed me to take up my spot in his corner doesn’t matter. He needs a doctor and safety. Clean,properclothes, and shoes that don’t let half the damn street in through the soles. I’m not sending him back out there.

I refuse.

We stare at each other for long seconds while he stews on my logic. “I don’t deserve this…any of this,” he eventually whispers and points at the haul.

“You don’t deserve decency?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended. “You don’t deserve liberation from a society hellbent on keeping you pressed into the ground? Safety from the people who have hurt you? Robbed you?”

“Fuck, man. Calm down.” Folding his arms, he bites on his thumb again.

I take a breath and run a hand through my hair. “We might not know each other, and I might sound insane, but please don’t tell me you don’t deserve help, Gray.”

“So we are just going to avoid the very obvious issues with this arrangement?”

Dropping to sit on the edge of the bed, I clasp my hands over my lap and slump my shoulders. “I’ll make it work.”

He hums, disagreeing, but eventually plucks the package of underwear from the pile. “And I won’t hold my breath,” he mumbles.

EIGHT

Don’tgetusedtothis, I tell myself as I put on the brand new boxer briefs.

Part of me almost forgot what it was like to have underwear without a gaping hole in the crotch.

This is extremely temporary, I think again as I slip on the thick sweatpants.

Temporary. Temporary. Temporary.

Whatever delusion Hunter has convinced himself of willnottransfer to my psyche. I won’t let it happen.

All his ‘help’ will vanish in the blink of an eye.

As soon as he realizes how much this situation will not work, he’ll be gone, and I’ll be back at square one. Sure, I’ll have some stuff, but how long until that’s taken, too? How long until I run into Dan? Or Xavier?

I’m sure they talk—probably have already, plotting to slit my throat next time I fall asleep somewhere.

Xavier is one of those men who plays on both sides. One foot in color, one foot in greyscale. You can’t trust a fucking thing he says or take any of his scraps without paying dearly for it later. Hell, Hunter’s parents probably know Xavier. That’s how much he bleeds into all pools.

I shiver and grab the long sleeve. Each layer is false armor, but for tonight, I’ll pretend.

When I leave the restroom, I find Hunter staring out the window overlooking the parking lot. His hands are tucked at the base of his spine, muscles rigid, and a tic works in his jaw. I can’t deny he made some valid points ten minutes ago; I would be a sitting duck if I left now, but what else am I supposed to do?

He tried to take me away—wanted to make meleave.

This town is my home. It’s the only tie I have to who I could’ve been. Maybe it’s stupid of me to have such a sentimental hold on a place that doesn’t want nor give a fuck about me, but I have spent too many years on these streets to leave them behind.

Every memory I have of my parents ishere.

My house ishere—the one I was supposed to get when I hit eighteen but got locked up two days later.

All those fucking promises my mom and dad made to me as a kid are decaying and stinking, but they’re all I got left.

You’re going to be an artist, Gray.

Look at those paintings!

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