The Color Black.

Dear, Mother.

There was nothing more Tana Noel hated than visiting PearlGrove Memorial Hospital. Not for the sake of her loathing for medical facilities, but for the fear of losing her last remaining relative.

It was a place of dread and a reminder of the tribulations faced in the past and present. A harbinger of death and illness.

"I don't want my last words to be, 'I hate you'."

Her long, tight curls glisten from the overhead white lights, tweaking her caramel skin. Her eyes, like emeralds, blinks when her chin rests against her hands that clutch the protective railing around the hospital bed.

In that bed lays her mother, Beatrice Noel. Still catatonic.

Consequences of the overdose she suffered a year prior. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor seeps into Tana's troubled thoughts, agitating every thread of her being with the burden of nausea to follow. She always had a voice in the back of her mind, telling her she hadn't tried hard enough. Enforcing the feeling of failure when Beatrice was left to wither away from existence.

The door to the room swings open with a baleful creak. Tana turns to face a tall figure entering with his draped coat over a pressed gray suit.

"Ms. Noel. How are you today?" Dr. Andi Hasan presents himself to her like beauty on a tapestry.

A man of African descent, primed and mature, sporting a bearded face, with sharp lines and pert lips. His suit clings to his defined frame like a damp, T-shirt that accentuates the muscles below. Sparing no detail that matches the handsome face, he wields like a weapon of mass attraction.

"Just as any other day, Doc," Tana answers, drinking him in.

The way his dark hair contours his hairline like a majestic, short mane growing from his roots. The subtle way he licks his full, pert lips when they suddenly become dry. The effect lasts long enough for Tana's breath to stop at the base of her larynx. A painful reminder of the reality she resides in.

"Any Progress?" She looks away tentatively.

"Just as any other day, unfortunately." The divisive look on Andi's face is enough confirmation for Tana.

A languid sigh follows the words that instill a doom unintended. She laughs awkwardly, not amused, but annoyed at herself. "I could have told you that since I come in here every other day and ask the same dumb question. You also called me Ms. Noel. Which you haven't done in a while."

"It is always good to visit her, Tana." She turns to face him with a detached look in her green eyes.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye, Doc." She frowns at her own resolve. "Kinda weird since this woman made my entire life a living hell." Tana straightens her dark-blue fleece hoodie, with a slice of a pie missing at the bottom to form the first letter of Murphy's.

"I won't call you Tana if you insist on calling me Dr. Hasan, or Doc. We've known each other for a year." Tana senses his teasing tone and calculates his next response.

Raucous thoughts of desire have never been a thing she easily succumbed to, but she had time to study Andi. Even harbor dirty thoughts that could not be helped. Tana couldn't tell if she had lived in such a broken home, she didn't know the limit of her own desires. It was that, or she loved her life well enough. Still, the temptation had plans to seep in, which frightens her, but it carries with it an excitement that leaves her beleaguered.

She chances another glance at the handsome doctor, almost scared of saying something that would betray her genuine feelings. "What do I call you then?"

Andi peers at Tana, as if confused by the question he himself had incited. "I don't-,"

"What's your name, Doc?" Despite the grief surging through Tana, her smile grows warm. Entrancing even, and Andi averts his gaze in the wake of its effect.

"Andi."

"Cool." Tana stands, then saunters past him.

His mouth opens and closes, but he finally finds the next words he'd been struggling to get out. "With an I." Tana stops, raising an eyebrow when she faces him again. "I m-mean, it ends with an I as opposed to a Y which doesn't make any sense and I might need to talk to my parents about some things." He chuckles. Nervous and outwitted just by the curious glance she passes over him.

"I'll see you next week, Andi with an I." She leaves the smiling doctor, who whispers his eagerness once he thinks she is out of earshot.

"Looking forward to it."

—

Twenty-two minutes after leaving PearlGrove, Tana steps into the relative calm of her small, rundown apartment. Its decor is secondhand furniture, displays of amateur art plastered in every corner, and a stuffy atmosphere.

A large window opens up to a rough view of Brooklyn. Built on a podium, the space doubles as an art station, with evidence of a new project perched on an easel.

The two-bedroom, one-bath apartment is spotless except for Tana. The only case of disarray against the washed out, but unsullied space.

The small, but frail, rectangular table sitting between the couch and the television set becomes her only moment of calm when she crosses her feet atop it. Slowed by her own weariness, Tana rubs her pale knees with small, dainty arms. A futile attempt to soothe the ache from the twelve-hour shift that had sunk bone-deep.

She shrugs out of her blouse, revealing the entirety of her milky, flawless skin. Her eyes close, and for a second she revels in the tranquility until a loud clanging in the kitchen echoes throughout the apartment.

"Bloody f*****g, hell!!"

Tana's eyes fly open, heart beating in her chest when James' heavy British accent curses from upstairs.

"That's not good." Tana lets out a ragged sigh. She shakes her head, sighing before she turns to the staircase that leads up to the second floor. She approaches and begins climbing it with tired, throbbing feet. "James?" She doesn't get an answer. Just silence. Which could only mean James was already lamenting whatever dilemma he had gotten himself into.

At the top, she enters the doorway to her right, halting when she sees the tall, dark man standing over a spilled bucket of red oil paint. The fume-filled liquid is spattered in a rather artful pattern. Claiming the wooden cupboards below the two-sided sink with the muddle.

"Huh. Even while screwing up, you make art. You're ready for your first showing."

James smoothes his symmetrical waves with his left palm and lets out a ragged sigh. "That was the last pint of ivory-red." A gruff frown contorts James' handsome features. "Kinda needed it for the Bordeaux one-hundred and seven."

"Wait." Tana crosses her arms over her chest, crushing her pert breasts under its weight. "That's your hundred and seventh painting I saw on the sun-view?" Her green eyes narrow at the blood-red, bright tint that leaves speckles of paint across the old cupboard doors.

"Yes, love, I am on my-," As he speaks he looks up, but his eyes bulge and his words come to a halt when he notices Tana's shirtless torso. "Tana, goddammit! Put on a shirt or something, will you?" James sucks air through his teeth but looks down at his stained toes. He takes two steps back to check the soles of his feet and groans out in frustration. "And now you made me step in it."

Tana frowns at the notion, James' attitude, and the sudden feeling of tension fogging the atmosphere. "It's the middle of July, James. It's hot, and I just climbed ten flights of stairs because the elevator is broken again." Her left eyebrow raises tentatively, a request for an answer etched across her face. "You've also never had a problem with me being just lounging, in my bra, in our apartment before. What gives?" Her emphasis weakens his resolve, but his face hardens after a moment of contemplation.

"That's because the mates will be here at any moment."

"Why are they coming over for the third night in a row?" Bewildered by the question, James notices the tone of Tana's voice.

He is suddenly forced to hamper down on his thoughts to avoid letting his frustrations affect him.

Years had passed since he had been beside her, but him leaving only meant parting ways. Even if it was not meant to be permanent. Both of them were prominent in their studies. Needed each other, just like they had twelve years ago when they met. They'd encountered demons, slew dragons, and walked with angels together so nothing could prepare them for serious adulthood.

"James," Tana sasses for effect. Eyes measuring James' reaction, but her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Because I will not be here to protect you from my perverted friends every day." His furtive steps toward Tana alarms him and he stops, eyes glazed over with emotion. "All my dreams are coming through, Tana. Each one closer than I can even comprehend, but it scares me."

"Really? Because the timing for your trepidation is terrible." James shakes his head. Not at all surprised at her boldness. Yet it was always that way between them. Tana was the voice of fact and reason, while James had more carnal desires to fulfill.

"We both know that this is something I have to do." He excuses.

"That's great, and I'm glad you get to live out your dreams in full color, James, but let's talk about you leaving for six months... again." She adds for effect while her gaze measures the reaction. "Cassie-,"

"Tana." His voice holds a warning. Impatience and aggravation that surpass his usual level of brooding. "Talking about her won't change anything."

Tana averts her gaze when bitterness rises in her throat. "She loves you. You loved her, and now she's carrying your child. I-,"

"Cassie carrying my child means nothing more than that."

"That's easy for you to say." She scoffs bitterly.

"Anything else, or do you plan to help me before we have another infraction?" Tana scoffs at the man she calls her lover. Reminded that she should rest for the next day to come.

Tana had every reason to be paranoid. For her, it all sparked from James's branching out. She was on her own path, yet the road before included James, and they built that on the promise of sticking together. After finding his real parents, and digging deeper into his art school, and career James had a range of options after college. All wrought by an influence he'd only had for a year. Everything threatened and brought about a change that she tried to cope with.

Tana shakes her head, back slumping as she slinks away from the doorway. "I'll get the gloves." James' eyebrows conjoin in the center of his forehead. Airing his confusion.

But instead of dwelling on Tana, he gets back to work. Hobbling towards the refrigerator, prepared to remedy a situation that only gets worse with every second he wastes. Just like his relationship with her.