Writing Notes: On Colour
Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories
BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder
BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue
GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green
ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange
PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink
PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve
RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany
WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White
YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion
BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia
GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast
MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled
COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects
Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.
Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.
Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.
Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.
Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.
Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.
Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite.
Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.
White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.
Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.
Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.
Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.
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“Love you a little too much.”
Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader
Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.
Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡
Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.
Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ so I kinda switched it up and in this fanfic, reader is the one giving mixed signals.
Chapter 2: The Secrets You Keep
Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mixed signals, horrible Spanish, mommy issues.
FIC MASTERLIST
Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
Silvery pavements, busy streets, neon lights, and brick-cold air.
New York never truly rests, as they say. A concrete jungle where dreams were once made of. All of what was once so promising about the Yorker dream was plucked out individually with each passing year; money, careers, romance, and peace. Even now, you try to find the beauty of what was once the New York your mother adored, yet what only stared back was this desolate, tragic dystopia. A city that's fallen to ruin.
As the traffic unknots, Miles gently nudges you to the inner part of the sidewalk— subtly shielding you away from the vehicles.
Gentlemen, your mother used to always say. You'll find them not in the fineness of their clothes, but in the way they treat their women.
You can almost picture her, sitting right in front of you with that sickly sweet grin on her face, pearls hanging from her neck and mascara running down her cheeks. Buried beneath her wedding band was a dying cigarette, to which she pulls to slip in between her lips— taking consecutive sips.
There was almost never a time your mother was a mess.
Almost.
Staring at your mother was like staring into a wretched mirror. You were everything she could've been, and she was all you might become.
There was nothing more frightening than looking into your future and finding nothing promising.
"Hey, that's new." And Miles, yet again, pulls you out of your murky thoughts.
"What is?" You pique, the sight of the city dragged back into your sights. Miles points at the ivy-covered building in front of you. It gleamed in warm colors inside, a sight utterly fitting of the autumn season. Its wide, Palladian windows were embellished with orange curtains and striped green dormers. Atop the roof sat a sign, the name of the establishment written in bold, vermilion cursive. You were lulled by the smell of s'mores, hot chocolate, and pie— all the sweet things that reminded you of your precious childhood memories. It had you standing there, reminiscing over the times that were long gone.
"I think it's a café and a book store. Two in one, pretty neat." Miles mentions, looking over to the sight of you. The store's lights seeped out the windows, its golden hues gleaming over your face, highlighting your lashes. You were too lost in thought to even notice his staring.
"How pretty." You airily whispered.
"Yeah." Miles replies, sights still glued onto you.
His gaze soon lowers, noticing your trembling hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie— a habit the both of you shared. Hesitantly, he lifts his finger, urging to intertwine it with yours.
"Do you think I can apply as a part-timer there?"
He shoves his hands down his pocket instead.
“You wanna apply?”
“Yeah. I wanna save up for summer.”
He raised a brow. “That’s still next year, though?”
“I’m planning on going on a road trip.” You began, a clear view of your plans surfacing in your mind. “I’m getting my driver’s license next year too, so I really want to make the most of it.”
“Driver’s license?”
“Yeah, I’m sixteen.”
“Damn,” Miles shook his head in amusement. “Y’know, I tend to forget you’re older than me.” He then places his hand next to your temple, aligning it with his shoulder. “And it doesn’t help that you’re… This short.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And of course, Miles indeed didn’t shut the fuck up.
"… Y’know, I bet you'd walk out on your first day with an arson charge."
The two of you meet gazes once more. Miles looked at you with a dead stare, as if he was serious. "What? You're the one talking shit about wanting to go to jail."
"Yeah, I'm boutta fulfill that part of my checklist after I'm done strangling you."
He raised his brows, subtly amused. "Kinky."
You try to slap his arm, but he manages to dodge your hit. He stares deep into your oh-so-fiery glare, cheeks bursting from laughter.
"Look at'chu, you fight like a munchkin from the wizard of Oz."
Pulling your sleeves up, you ready yourself to brawl. "Yeah? Talk your shit, Tin Woodman."
“Oh, I will talk my shit, lollipop gild.”
Amidst your squabble, you and Miles push and pull against one other, lightly shoving each other off like little kids. Your fingers dig into the cloth of his jacket, gripping against his chest with fingers like steel. Though your little plan of shaking him by the collar is spoiled when an itch suddenly burns your nose. You turn around and sneeze, pulling away from his grasps.
".. God, I hate the cold."
He feigns a grimace, taking a step back. "Eww, germs."
"Shut up, you—“
"Stay away, you bubonic plague virus haver."
As you try to search for a comeback, you feel the same itch burn your nostrils— inevitably putting your words on hold. Miles watches as you placed your icy hands over your mouth, sneezing a couple more times. You could almost feel the cold climb up your arms like a ladder, leaving you a shivering mess. Some sort of heat begins to poke in the back of your neck, as though you were flustered like a little girl with a crush. You pull your sleeves down, stabbing your nails into your palm. Miles takes this moment to go behind you, his hands reaching out to unzip your bag. He probes inside in search of your scarf, the long silk pouring out with the grip of his fingers, like [f/c] bleeding into his palm.
As you sniff, the boy turns to you, gently wrapping the cloth over your neck. You look up, beholding the sight of a serious Miles who was too preoccupied with tying the scarf, mumbling about what's the point of bringing the damn thing if you weren't even gonna use it.
“M’not even gonna get a bless you?” You tease.
“You got me: the biggest blessing of your life. What more do you need?”
You hum. “Lots of sleep and an essential oil bath bomb.”
“The fuck’s an essential oil bath bomb?”
“What I need.”
As he finished, he slowly smoothes out the creases with both palms, looking up to meet your stare.
"… What'chu looking at?"
With an airy laugh, you reply. "Just.. You."
His hands pause, yet they stay on your scarf.
"... Idiot." Miles mumbles, grip tightening. "Stop lookin’ at me like that."
"Like what?"
Like you'd follow me to the end of the earth.
"Like a dumbass." He casually answers, flicking his nails over your forehead. "Now get moving, I’ve gotta get you home.”
Miles look over to the café once more, a hand over your shoulder. Slowly, it slips off and trails down your arm before falling to his side. Instinctually, his finger lifts to reach out for your own, though it drops when he hears a buzz in your pockets.
Despite the amount of times it rang, you simply ignored the damn thing. Eventually you did reach out for it, but without even glancing once at the texts, you set it all on 「☾ Do Not Disturb.」
It was only then, as each street passed, that Miles began noticing how the both of you were slowly exiting Brooklyn's poorest areas and started entering what seemed to be the finer parts of the borough. From skeletal buildings and desolate apartments, colorful brownstones appeared before his eyes— showered in leaves of scarlet and orange. It was the sort of Brooklyn you'd find in the movies, the dreamy sort of Brooklyn it used to be three years ago.
An immediate fresh breath of nostalgia.
There was that tiniest hope that lingered deep inside of him, believing that Brooklyn’s still savable.
Eventually, the both of you spot the local Gristedes down the road, the building growing larger with each step. Miles opted to slow his steps down, just to walk longer with you and yet, you paced hurriedly. He follows the sight of your silhouette prancing around, admiring you from afar. When you can no longer sense him, you turn around and halt your walk, waiting for him to keep up. Miles hurriedly jogs to meet you, humming a sweet tune when a sort of blurry vision clouds his mind.
A piercing pain shoots through his temple, making him wince. For a moment, his vision blurs and spots of red taint his eyes. Suddenly, you appear before him in the midst of a fire— glaring at him with such hatred. Your silhouette appears as a dark burgundy, taking center in a world set ablaze.
You call out his name in the feverish illusion.
"Miles."
He winces, taking a step back.
"Miles!"
Suddenly, he's pulled back into reality with your voice.
There you stood, eyes so riddled with worry.
"... What..?"
"Are you okay?" You walk back to him, placing a hand over his forehead. "Are you sick? What happened?"
He gasps for air, but only once. Seeing you now, looking so worried about him, it was enough confirmation that what he saw was all just a dream.
But what in the hell what was that?
As your hand presses against his cheek, Miles cups over it with his own, following the lead of your voice to find peace. "Sorry," He finally spoke, voice too much of a whisper for you to process. "It’s like I hallucinated or sum.”
You click your tongue. "You just had one hit of vape, man, the fuck you on?”
He mumbles an incoherent explanation, to which you grumble. “Do you need medicine? Maybe I can—“ You frantically turn your head in search of a place. “Maybe we can go somewhere and get you some medicine.”
“I’m fine, ma, don’t get all riled up.”
“You’re hot.”
“I know.”
“Not in that way!”
“Ouch.”
“I’m just– I’m worried about you, Miles.”
“Oh, are you now?” He teased, placing a hand over yours.
Miles gently places your hand down, eventually taking your other and burying them both in his palms. Your hands were much smaller and softer compared to his. Like velvet to leather, a paw to a claw.
He gently squeezed, an urge to hold them forever ringing in his mind. Miles looked up to see you and the way your eyes traveled from his hands, to his chest, up to his chin, and then straight into his gaze.
“Do continue worryin’ about me.” He whispers. “I’m feelin’ very special right now.”
You scrunched your brow, looking up with the softest gaze you ever endowed.
“Oh, is that right?”
“Mhm.”
It was enough to steal the air from his lungs. Of all the things, Miles didn't fear for this to all be a dream, he feared that this would all just be a game to you. Dreams would mean that this wasn't you, but a trickery of his mind— his anxiety. He'd be able to keep you once he wakes up. But since this was real, he'd have to suffer through the pain of either losing you or hating you, none of which were choices he liked.
He found you most confusing at times like these.
Most of the time, you were an open book. Your mouth was unfiltered, whether it be in conveying your emotions or saying the most out of pocket things, but at the same time, you often kept to yourself. He hardly heard anything about your family, your friends, or your life— aside from a few side stories you'd recall in the midst of reminiscing— other than that, you kept a lot of secrets.
And he didn't want to invade your privacy, or overstep your boundaries. He figured you'd tell him someday: the things that would bother you, or the memories that'd make you zone out for a few seconds.
He was too afraid of you finding out who he was. Too afraid of losing you, or hating you.
But moments like these were a detriment to his rationality.
In that icy weather, all that made Miles shiver was you.
“Miles.” You called out his name again. “... I think.. I have to go.”
Unconsciously, he mutters. “Already?”
“We’ll see each other again tomorrow.” You couldn’t help but comfort of him. “I promise.”
Let’s meet in our little place. I won’t call it my home, because home is wherever you go.
He swallows the lump that had formed at his throat, hesitantly releasing your hands. “Okay.” He sighs. “Okay, get home safely.” He detangles your fingers, savoring the warmth of your skin. You pivot your heel to leave, pulling your hood over your head. Miles simply watches as you walk and turn one last time.
“Bring your sketchbook next time, alright?”
He nods. “I will.”
“Buh-bye.” You wave one final time. Miles raised his hand to bid you adieu.
If only you knew.
As you disappear down the block, Miles clutches the notebook carefully hidden in his inner pocket.
It was at that moment, Miles couldn’t help but ponder.
How could I show you my sketchbook when all it’s filled of is you?
Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch
Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch
Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch
Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh
The radio eases down with the volume upon the flick of a finger.
“How was she?”
Snapped from the voice of his uncle, Miles’ head perks up. An icy water bottle flies past Aaron’s hand, tossing it over to Miles as it landed straight into his palms. “Did’ya finally tell her?” He adds, to which the boy slumps deep into his seat and grumbles.
Drenched in sweat and small bruises, Miles took his well-deserved break atop his uncle’s couch— chest rising and falling with each heave, wifebeater all soaked. He squints at the ceiling while lazily popping the cap off the bottle. “I don’t even have to tell her, man. She knows— I know she knows, but I dunno if- if she likes me too or if she’s jus playin’ w’me.” Miles manages to rant in between heavy breaths, mind and body completely exhausted from training. Aaron sits by his side, dragging a towel over his neck.
“Yikes. What makes you think that?”
The cold water smoothly flushes down his throat, easing his fatigue. “She flirts with me more than I flirt with her— damn, I can’t even get a single line in.”
“.. You like a chick that’s got more game than you?” Aaron reiterates, amused by what he’s hearing. He laughs at Miles’ frustrated face, shaking his head. “You sure you’re my nephew, man?”
“Oh, I’ve got game.” The boy defends himself. “I held her hands and everythin’. She’s prolly hella into me too.”
“Or, she just plays the game better than you do.”
“Nah—“ Miles denies, but it makes him think. “Nah, she’s into me. I’m sure of it, but I think she’s kind of like… Denying it or I dunno.”
He recalls the way you scrunched your brows, and looked up at him as though he was all you could ever want to look at. It’s got him zoning out, nibbling on the brim of his bottle like a nervous little pup. Aaron simply shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, Miles, it’s not like y’all are in the Titanic. I don’t see why she wouldn’t go for ya.”
“I mean,” He scavenges for the right words to say. “I mean, what if she’s like.. Not ready or sum?”
“… How old is she?”
“Sixteen.”
Aaron’s head spun in a quick flash. “Sixteen!? Aren’t you fifteen? Damn, now I don’t blame her. You’re a whole kid in her eyes, my man.”
“A ki— a kid!?” He scoffed. “I’d have to squat down just to reach her height— why the hell would she see me as a kid?”
While taking a sip off his bottle, Aaron lifts a finger cautiously. “That,” He spoke in between sips. “That’s the reason why she sees you as a kid.” Miles furrows his brows, completely anonymous to the reason. “You’re too defensive. You should be more suave, my man. Be a gentleman.“ He pulls up a couple moves. “Jazz her like this. The ladies love dancing.”
“You telling me I gotta dance with her or sum?” Chewing on his cheek, he grumbles. “Now, how the hell do I do that?”
Aaron hums.
“You know all about the shoulder touch?”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Dark halls, hushed voices in a box.
“I’m not having this conversation with you again.”
The chair’s legs screech against the marble as he stands up.
"She's turning sixteen next year, hardly even eighteen, if this gets out— not only would it be harmful for our family reputation, she'll be permanently eradicated from receiving opportunities in the future."
A dead gaze hung in the darkness, eyeing the figure that stood before him stubbornly.
"Your sister is incredibly capable, and she's doing a lot to support our means for the sake of the family."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Which is more than what I can say for you, Antonne."
Antonne stood before his father, chin held high and gaze, unyielding. The old man tapped his pen against the mahogany, each tick filling in the spaces between the clock's ticking. Within the spaces, and with each passing second, Antonne stood in the thick tension that filled the office like a soldier keeping his head above water.
The old man’s pen points at him accusingly. "Be happy for her, as she's cleaning up after your mistakes. Who would you be without your sister?”
The boy tenses.
“Do you think you’ll be able to save yourself?”
Antonne stood by the hall, eyes daunt and staring a thousand yards deep into an invisible void. For a while, he shortly allowed his mind to go completely blank. Well, it wasn't entirely blank, it was full— but everything was all blurred together that it was better to think that he was thinking about nothing.
A restless mind paired along with an unfortunately still beating heart.
His head’s piqued when a familiar sound of footsteps begin to permeate amidst the hall. The steady sound of heels thumping against the carpet, like a careful warning to those who stood in her way.
“Antonne,” Her voice calls out. “What are you doing out here?”
Your presence emerges from the shadows like a ghost who’d waited for too long. He steps in front your father’s office door, as if to block your entrance. Parting his lips, he calls for your name.
“… Your job. Are you sure you want to partake in such a thing?”
You raise a brow, understandably befuddled by his sudden disruption.
“I’m going to be honest with you.” He begins. “Our family is not the best. Our money doesn’t come mainly from sanctioned ways although we parade it as though it were. I can forgive all that, but what I can’t forgive is ruining all your potential.”
“I don’t understand. Where is all this coming from?” Your gaze narrows harshly. Though you try to appear genuinely ignorant of what he’s saying, the knowledge of it was enough to make your blood boil. Antonne sighed a deep sigh, a million words pouring into his mind like waves crashing.
“I am simply worried about you,” He claims. “You’ve been handling these affairs since you were thirteen. And it’s unfair for you to handle such things when you’re only fifteen—“
“I’m sixteen.”
“… When you’re only sixteen.”
You scoff. “Do you even have any idea of what I’m doing?”
“.. The job you’re doing, was my job three years ago.” Antonne’s words made you grit your teeth. “I know all about what you do, and I may have failed in what I did— I’m not as smart or as cunning as you— but I’ll never forget how that job ruined me.”
You snicker. “You talk like that, but you want the job to yourself.”
Your brother stiffens, but his face remains ever-so stoic.
“It’s better for you to give the job to me.”
“This is what it’s all about?” Your voice lividly lowers into a hush as you take a step towards him. “You abandoned all your responsibilities, made me carry the hotel for three years, and now that the work’s lighter, you want to take it away from me?”
With each step you take, Antonne soon finds his back pressed against the door, swallowing the lump that had formed at his throat. With one final attempt to get you to listen, he finally pulls.
“Does he know?”
Gesturing over to the fineness of your clothes, the shine of your pearls, Antonne then hissed.
“That boy you meet in Brooklyn. Does he know who you are?”
Visibly startled upon the mention of Miles, your frustration crumbles into caution. Your head turns away, lids twitching. “I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.” Was your attempt of a lie. Antonne straightened his lips, determined to rekindle his confident stature.
“… How naïve of you.” Antonne seethed. “Do you think father’s going to let this go once he finds out?”
You scoff. “Is that a threat?”
“A warning.” He corrects of you. “Have you forgotten who you are? You’re our family’s only daughter— you’re the face of our family in high society. Not only that, but you’re engaged.”
“I’m sixteen. Fuck you mean ‘engaged’? That engagement’s hardly been processed as a legitimate promise. You and I both know it’s for the sake of shutting up the Fisks, anyway.”
“It’s scandalous.” Antonne spewed with venom on his tongue. “You’re not a kid. You’re two years away from being an adult.” He thrusts an accusing finger into your shoulder blade. “And everyone’s eyes are on you— if people were to ever find out about your little escapade, you’d be ruined.”
“Then cover it up.” You ruthlessly shoot back. “That’s all our family ever does anyway.”
As you try to maneuver past him, Antonne then interjected.
“Then what about that boy? What would he think?”
And that’s enough to make you freeze.
“Would he be able to handle you? You… Don’t forget that he could’ve known someone who was a victim.”
You could almost imagine Miles’ face contorting into disgust upon the unveiling of the truth. An inevitable scene. You’d been trying to run away from the scene like a dog with your tail caught between your legs. Your teeth dig a little too deep into your lips, blood seeping in the corners of your frown. Though you try to keep your composure, the mention of Miles was enough to send you trembling.
“No matter how much you hide it, he’ll learn about your identity sooner or later.”
“He won’t.” Your reply came out haggardly. “He won’t find out.”
“And what makes you so sure?”
Your jaw clenches, eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. You think about throwing something at him, or pulling on his hair— yet you ease your nerves like any other dignified girl.
As if on cue, your father opens the door, exchanging glances between you and your brother, reeking of fresh tobacco and dust.
“What the hell are you two doing, bickering in front of my door?”
His voice is harsh and demeaning, like winter at its worst peak. A voice that haunted you all throughout your younger years, now it was just nothing but another normality to you and your dull days.
“It’s nothing, dad.” You reassure, casting a side-eye at Antonne. “Nothing at all.”
Only then, you pulled the manila folder up to exit the situation. “In regards to the landscaping for the hotel, I have the submissions. I figured we should discuss about it.”
“Right,” He snaps his fingers. “Shall we?”
You leave Antonne in the darkness, shutting the door with a slam.
“God… She’s going to be the death of all of us.”
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