Work Text:
Did she already know?
That lie that brought her here, dripped from his lips, wrapped around her limbs like dulled barb to pull her away, to here. She’d been so willing to do as he asked. A few questions, but in the end, she’d yielded just as he’d hoped.
He’d timed it so acutely. Plucked her away when she was just right - when he was sure yes was the only answer she’d give him. It had taken patience, time, and an ebb of influence here, there, so her path twisted around, to him.
There was so little in his life that went right. This had to.
And what if he had to weave a white lie at its head? It wasn’t malicious - to her.
Ray stretched out at her side, watching her eyelids drop lazily as she tapped at her phone. The vase of flowers on the table behind her gave her a soft crown in the waning afternoon. Like flowers, lies had colours too. Most of his were white ones - gentle ones as delicate as the petals that fell. Once bloomed, only to wither and shrivel and fall. It was inevitable.
He’d never tell her a black lie. Not Ray.
No.
A prick of pain twisted behind his eye. He squeezed the cushion in his arms, tighter.
She’d asked him to stay for a little and he’d made time. She didn’t say much, but every time he moved, she reached out, and touched. Just like now.
She touched as if to make sure he was real, to make sure he was there.
Maybe she didn’t know he lied.
He flirted with the thought, wondering how long this fantasy could linger. Like everything good in his life, never long enough.
“I have to go back,” he lied. His heart weighed too heavy with guilt the longer he looked at her serenity, and longer he too felt at peace. This wasn’t why he existed.
She put down her phone and shuffled closer, the splitting shadows of the curtains changing her hues as she moved. There was something new about her every day, every which way. Ray almost touched her.
“Stay,” she pleaded. “I’m…lonely without you.”
Ray looked down. “You have my game for company. Surely you’ve made a friend with one of the AIs by-”
Two fingers twisted the pink tipped curls that graced his cheek. Her fingers were so cold, he could feel it radiate against his skin.
“I know they’re real, Ray,” she said, softly. “But they’re not you.”
Of course she knew.
What colour of lies were left?