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“What does green look like?”
Wilbur paused, his hand hovering above the wooden OPEN sign. The thing was old and warped with age, and the letters were barely visible. He should probably invest in one of those neon ones with the flashy lights.
“What do you mean?” he asked, turning to face his brother.
Tommy, in all his eleven year old glory, was sat on the serving bar humming a mindless tune. His hair was as white as snow, and it stood up in odd wispy tendrils that seemed to float in an invisible breeze. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, and it looked like all the colour had been sucked out of him.
His eyes, however, were pure silver.
Tommy swung his legs back and forth against the serving bar, kicking his heels against the already worn down wood with abandon. That thing was about five seconds away from collapsing, and Wilbur lived in constant fear of the day where he’d eventually have to dig up enough funds to pay for the repairs.
Their cafe barely got by as it was - a demolished serving bar was the last thing they needed.
Yet no matter how many times he told Tommy to stop abusing the poor counter and sit in one of the chairs instead, the cheeky bastard never listened.
“What does green look like?” the boy repeated, oblivious to his brother’s distress. “Describe it to me.”
Wilbur sighed, turning back towards the display window. Dark clouds obscured the normally clear skies, and heavy droplets of rain beat down against the pavement, forming murky little puddles on every visible surface.
Everything was wet, the air felt unbearably sticky, and the humidity was making his hair look like it was trying to detach itself from his head, which was never a fun experience for anybody.
Wilbur found the weather to be all-round miserable. Even his clothes felt damp, and he was inside , for God’s sake.
He yawned, wondering if he should even bother opening the cafe yet. There wasn’t a single soul visible beyond the glass window- the streets were completely empty, which was quite a rare phenomenon for east Essen. The normally bustling district was nearly silent, save for the occasional pitter patter of rain against rooftops, and while Wilbur did enjoy the small moment of peace it brought, the quiet was a little unnerving.
We probably won’t get any customers until the rain lets up, he reasoned, leaving the sign flipped to CLOSED and walking over to his little brother. Taking a seat on one of the stools near the counter, he stretched his back, feeling the bones crackle and pop (he was twenty two goddamnit, how was he already developing back problems?) as he mentally prepared himself for another slow day.
If someone wanted their coffee that badly, they could wait a few extra minutes while he explained the concept of colours to his brother.
“Well, to me ,” Wilbur began, idly tapping his fingers against the wooden table, “green is synonymous with life. It’s the colour of moss, vines, grass, and…uh…” he blanked, desperately looking around the room for something green.
“...the minty powder in the spice rack that you insist smells like mould.”
Tommy snickered, and the elder sighed, running a nervous hand through his hair.
This was a lot harder than it sounded.
“Ok, look, I don’t really know how to explain it, but green is… fresh . It’s the smell of a forest, the feeling of grass beneath your toes, the shade of a thousand leaves in the middle of summer-” Wilbur paused, searching for the right words.
“Green is the feeling of being alive. The wonder of nature, if you will.”
Tommy’s kicking had ceased completely, and he appeared to be considering Wilbur’s words with great interest, head tilting to the side in thought as he tried to picture the images that his brother had just described. His tiny nose scrunched up in concentration, and as Wilbur watched him struggle to imagine something he'd never seen, he couldn’t help but wonder for the thousandth time what it would be like to experience the world in his shoes.
Tommy had, what he had so unceremoniously dubbed, “wind magic”. From what Wilbur understood, Tommy could manipulate air currents and use them as a sort of third hand, allowing him to gauge the general position of the things around him by using his body as a ruler. He’d explained it as being able to “feel what the wind felt”, which Wilbur took to mean that he could see through the movement of air.
It was an incredible power to have, and Tommy was very much aware of this fact. That insufferable child never missed a chance to boast about his “big man magic”, using his seemingly perfected annoying little brother skills to constantly make fun of Wilbur’s much less impressive ability.
The sad part was that Wilbur didn’t even blame him for his jabs - being able to change the colour of anything you touched had to be the single most useless power he could think of, and the irony of having a blind brother wasn’t lost on him either.
Magic like Tommy’s, however, was rare.
Incredibly rare.
It drew the wrong kind of attention, especially on the east side of Essen, home to the poor and the desperate. This half of the city ran rampant with crime, and the further east you went, the more brutal it got. Shattered glass and empty bottles littered the streets, framed by ramshackle houses full of overcrowding families. The air hung thick with the scent of misery, and (if you ventured deep enough into the east) the tangy smell of blood.
Then there was west Essen, but the magical district of glittering lights that lay behind the obsidian walls was more myth than anything else.
Wilbur was lucky enough to live relatively close to the border between the two halves of the city (it was a twenty minute walk to the Middle Market if he didn’t dawdle), but he was still on the east side of the wall. No matter how close they were to the border guards, he and Tommy were still exposed to the countless dangers of the east.
Danger that, for the most part, came in the form of the Pit.
Rumoured to be the largest underground power trafficking ring in all of Essen, the Pit was a name that men whispered amongst themselves in empty taverns, a story told to scare wayward children into behaving. They say that the ring ran below the entire city, expanding beneath the wall and into the west, but how far it truly went was a mystery.
The Pit was in the business of power trafficking, sending agents known as hunters above ground to nab unsuspecting people off the streets. Those with the most exceptional abilities were at the most risk, fetching a higher price on whatever twisted market ran underground. People with powers like superstrength were drugged and put into magic restraining cuffs, never to be seen again. People, like teleporters, like fire benders-
People like Tommy.
It’s been two years, but Wilbur would never forget the pure terror on the kid’s face as he’d flown through the back door of his coffee shop, bloody and bruised and scared out of his mind.
Would never forget how he’d begged Wilbur to hide him, to keep him safe from the hunters.
Would never forget the way he’d collapsed into his arms after he’d accepted, exhausted in a way no child should be.
He was the ideal prey for the Pit, really, because in a world where people disappear on a daily basis, who would think twice about a missing orphan boy?
“Wil?”
A soft gust of wind snapped Wilbur out of his trance, blowing around his face and ruffling his curls. He turned to find Tommy staring at him, his brows furrowed in concern.
“You’re frowning,” he said, letting his wind travel through the cafe in search of whatever caused Wilbur’s shift in mood. Stray napkins fluttered to the ground, drifting through the air as a mini hurricane made its way across the room, and Wilbur wondered absent-mindedly if he should start taping the menus to the table.
“Just thinking,” he muttered, gazing out at the light drizzle. If only there was a way that he could really show Tommy what green looked like, show him that it was more than just lofty descriptions; it was a feeling , the earthy smell of wet soil, the steady trickle of rain, the gentle brush of grass against skin, and if he could just show him -
Wait.
Wilbur whirled around to face his brother, the loose beginnings of an idea forming in his mind.
“Take off your shoes,” he blurted.
Tommy choked on a surprised laugh, wheezing in a way that sounded painful for his lungs.
“I- what -?”
“Take off your shoes and follow me.” Wilbur stood, struck with a sudden burst of energy. A plan was starting to take shape, and Tommy must have sensed his brother’s excitement because he started to kick off his shoes without hesitation. Wilbur’s heart swelled a little at the thought of how much the kid trusted him.
“Oh, and your socks as well,” he added as an afterthought, making his way towards the back door in the kitchen.
Tommy huffed, extending his arms to the side and hopping down from the counter with a whoosh of air.
“Why? Where are we going?” he asked, steadying himself beside his brother. He reached for Wilbur’s hand, almost on instinct, and the man had to resist the urge to coo out loud.
The things he’d do for this kid.
Throwing open the back door, Wilbur let the sound of rain wash over him. He could already feel the humidity seeping into his clothes, cringing as droplets of water splattered onto his glasses, but he did his best to ignore it, focusing instead on the winding streets in front of him. The narrow backroads of east Essen were already a crooked mess, cluttered with all sorts of abandoned garbage, and the pouring rain wasn’t going to make them any easier to navigate. Wilbur wished that they could take one of the more well-paved roads instead, but the main streets of the city were much too exposed for his liking. It was safer to stick to the hidden nooks and secret alleyways when travelling with Tommy.
Wilbur reached over to his brother, ruffling his hair and turning it an inconspicuous shade of brown. Hopefully that would be enough to deter any possible hunters.
Tommy huffed in annoyance, swatting at his hand. “Alright dickhead, that’s it, I’ve had enough of your Sherlock Holmes shit. Stop acting all mysterious and tell me where the hell we’re going.”
Wilbur ignored him, gazing out at the rain-soaked streets with determination. The weather hadn’t let up at all since this morning, and it was still pouring. They’d be soaked as soon as they stepped outside, but for once Wilbur didn’t care. He didn’t care about how the humidity was making his clothes stick uncomfortably to him, or how his hair looked like it was trying to lead a revolution against his head.
All he cared about in that moment was his little brother, staring up at him with his silver eyes and waiting expectantly.
Wilbur grinned, narrowing his eyes at the rainy streets, and gave Tommy’s hand
single squeeze.
“I’m going to show you what green looks like.”
Tommy’s face twisted with confusion. “Wil, what the hell are you- hey !”
Wilbur took off running, dragging Tommy down the street with him. He felt his brother’s wind flare out as he tried to orient himself, knocking over stray trash bins, and he laughed, the sound light and free.
“I’m going to show you what green looks like!” he screamed, and this , Wilbur thought, was what the people in the west must feel like every day. Utterly unconcerned, careless, and free .
Wilbur ran through the empty streets like a madman, laughing and dancing and singing at the top of his lungs. It was just him and Tommy outside, completely alone, and he was going to take advantage of every second of it. He twirled and spun his brother around in the rain, being loud and obnoxious because he knew, deep down, that there probably wouldn’t be another opportunity like this. The streets would never be this empty again, so Wilbur made as much noise as he could, soaking up the sound of his brother’s laugh and revelling in this fleeting moment of freedom.
“You’re insane!” Tommy shrieked, but he was laughing as well, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. He’d given up on running, and was instead using his wind to let him fly beside Wilbur, hanging onto his hand for dear life as he dragged him through the backstreets of east Essen.
Because for now, in this moment, there was no danger. Tommy wasn’t wanted by the Pit, Oliver wasn’t needed at the cafe, and the world wasn’t out to get them.
Because right now, in this brief moment, they were just two boys playing in the rain.
Wilbur ran until the stone under his feet turned to dirt, until the rundown houses around them became trees and the cramped streets opened up to cloudy skies. He only stopped once they reached a field of ankle length grass, exhausted and panting for breath. They collapsed onto the dirt in a heap of tangled limbs, breathless giggles escaping their lips as the pair lay beside each other in the mud.
It was peaceful, with Tommy curled up into his side and the sound of rain around them, and Wilbur wished that they could stay here forever.
The field that he’d brought them to was relatively close to the border between the east and west side of Essen, and the towering obsidian wall separating the two halves of the city was visible in the distance. One side of the field ended in a sudden drop, marking the outskirts of the city with a steep cliff. The other side, however, held the only path that connected both sides of Essen (known simply as “The Bridge”), with its magnificent stone arches and incredible craftsmanship.
Wilbur had stood on the edge of that bridge many times on his trips to the Middle Market, wondering what it would be like to have a picnic in the meadow below, and while laying in the mud with his brother in the middle of a rainstorm wasn’t necessarily what he’d expected, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Tommy shifted, drawing Wilbur out of his peaceful state as he propped himself up on his elbows. The kid turned to stare at what he assumed was supposed to be his face, but was actually somewhere past his shoulder.
“Not that I haven’t enjoyed pounding you into the dirt with my incredibly huge muscles,” he started, ignoring Wilbur’s snort of disbelief, “but where exactly are we, Wil? Were you just feeling particularly quirky today, or is there actually a reason that you made me run barefoot through east Essen in the rain?”
Wilbur winced, disentangling himself from his brother.
“In retrospect, maybe telling you to take off your shoes before running through the city was a bad idea.”
“No shit,” Tommy snorted, trying to brush off as much mud from his clothes as he could. His hands splayed out as he stood, and he let his wind roam over the vast expanse of land before him, exploring his surroundings.
“I don’t know where we are, but it’s very… open.” he declared, brushing strands of wet hair out of his face. “Are we still in Essen, or did you somehow manage to drag me halfway across the world in the span of twenty minutes?”
“We’re still in Essen, you gremlin,” Wilbur laughed, playfully shoving at his brother’s shoulder. “We’re in that field near the border, the one I told you about that one time I came back from the Middle Market?”
Tommy hummed in acknowledgement, and Wilbur smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“The bridge between the east and the west is a few miles off to our left- you can see it faintly in the distance, but the rain should keep us hidden from any guards,” he explained. “The border wall is about four or five miles in front of us, but we’re much closer to the limits of the city than we are to the bridge or the wall. You could probably walk off the edge of the cliff if you went far enough to the right.”
“That’s great and all, but what are we doing here?” Tommy asked, starting to float with restless energy. “Are you secretly planning to murder me and push my corspe off the cliff for no one to find? Are we going to sneak into the west and become illegal immigrants? Are you planning on meeting with the leader of the Pit to organise a revolution against the government?”
Wilbur rolled his eyes at his brother’s dramatics. “I brought you here, you impatient gremlin child, to show you the colour green.”
“So you’ve said,” Tommy drawled, crossing his arms. “But on the off chance that you’ve forgotten, dear brother , I am literally blind. So unless you’re planning on pulling a Jesus Christ on me and miraculously restoring my sight, I don’t really see how-”
“Oh my god, just- just shut up, please -” Wilbur groaned, grabbing his brother’s hand and dragging him to stand in the middle of the field. ”Just- just be quiet for a second and listen to me, ok? It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
Tommy must’ve heard the sincerity in his voice, because instead of arguing he simply sighed and let his arms fall to the side.
“Fine. But if you tell me to shut up again, I will lift you fifty feet into the air and shoot you off this cliff.”
“Alright alright," Wilbur laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender.
The field was enveloped in a brief moment of silence, and Wilbur inhaled, preparing his words carefully. He wanted this to be perfect for Tommy.
“Ok, so remember how I said that green was the colour of nature?” Tommy nodded, a look of intense focus on his face. “Well, this field is as close as you can get to nature on this side of the city, so we’re gonna try this here.” Wilbur sighed, running a nervous hand through his hair.
Tommy couldn't see, but he could sure as hell feel, and Wilbur planned to use that to his advantage.
“Relax your body,” he started, “and focus only on your surroundings. The grass beneath your toes, the coolness of the air, the earthy smell of petrichor - do you feel it?”
Tommy’s wind flared up around his legs, forming a small circle of swirling grass around his ankles, and Wilbur grinned.
It was working.
“This feeling of rain trickling down your arms, of water pooling on your eyelashes and wet grass tickling your feet,” he continued, watching as Tommy’s wind slowly lifted him off his feet, “this feeling of being so wonderfully alive , that’s what green is. Whatever you’re feeling right now, that’s it. That’s the colour green.”
Wind whipped aggressively at his clothes, knocking him down onto the grass, but Wilbur ignored the mini hurricane forming around his brother. Instead, he focused on the way Tommy tilted his face up towards the rain, embracing the downpour with his palms held open towards the sky. Thunder shook the air, letting loose another torrent of freezing water, and Tommy spun in the air, wearing a smile so bright that it rivalled the sun.
He looked so utterly at peace, so completely alive, and Wilbur found that he cared about nothing else in the entire world right now.
He sighed, relaxing into the wet grass.
Maybe rainy days weren’t so bad after all.