Author's Name: Elizabeth (SpanishEvenstar)
Written: Actually, I have no idea. Oops.
Rating: PG for minor language.
Genre: Drama I guess. It's pretty much romantic, but there's no making out or anything. I suppose it deals with love and fear and underlying emotions in general.
Main Character(s): Gemma & Christian
Disclaimer: I did not write the song "A Lack of Color." It was written by the boys of Death Cab for Cutie (great band!) and the lyrics just really spoke to me. It's perfect for a songfic, so I figured I'd write one. Gemma and Christian are mine but the lyrics aren't. The story premise that doesn't relate to the song is also mine. No stealing! Or I will come after you and beat you. So not cool.

A Lack of Color

And when I see you
I really see you upside down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around

If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry, lover
It's really bursting at the seams
Absorbing everything
The spectrum's a to z

This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years
And all the girls in every girlie magazine
Can't make me feel any less alone
I'm reaching for the phone

To call at 7:03 and on your machine I slur a plea for you to come home
But I know it's too late
I should have given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay, given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay

This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years

Ten agonizing minutes since Gemma boarded her plane. Christian didn't think she'd actually go through with it. Showed you how little he knew. How little he knew of the inner workings of the female mind. She loved him, he knew that much. She knew it, even. So then...why leave him? That's what Christian couldn't figure out. Why would she leave him if she loved him?

He stepped into his Range Rover when he'd finally left the terminal. In gathering his thoughts inside the airport he must have read every sign twice before finally leaving. He gripped the steering wheel and stared at the terminal, the back of his mind forming thoughts of seeing her race outside after discovering the error of her ways. She really couldn't leave him. Could she? Well, apparently, she just did. The worst part was, he hadn't even tried to stop her.

The terminal he'd been staring at for five minutes straight was the primary light source that night. Houselights flickered in the distance. The waning moon gave off a tiny sliver of light and as Christian started the car and turned on the headlights it felt to him that by the new moon the next day, every memory he and Gemma had shared would be gone along with the moon's light.

He managed to compose his thoughts long enough to see her plane take off into the air with not a single star in sight. Rain was on its way and Christian dreaded the thought. Who knew when he'd see her again. If she'd want to see him again....

----
Gemma craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of Christian's black SUV as the plane left the runway and began its ascent. So much for the window seat she'd wanted. All she got was a tiny crack behind her and a larger portion of window in front of her that she'd have to lean forward to see anything out of. She couldn't see anything of course, that was obvious. When he'd left her at the gate it was the last glimpse she'd gotten of him, the boy with whom she'd spent her entire high school career. Maybe there had been a few others, but it had always been Christian.

Maybe it's better this way, she thought to herself as she leaned back in her seat as the wheels entered the bottom of the plane and began to level out. He doesn't love me. He never did. She'd been crazy to think that maybe, just maybe, when she let him know she was considering taking an out-of-state school he'd try to convince her not to leave. She'd been baiting him. She never wanted to leave. She never wanted to go to college in California. She just wanted to see how he'd react. To see if he'd try to convince her to stay. But he never did. Maybe she really needed to get out of the state, forget Christian, forget he ever meant anything to her, because she clearly meant nothing to him.

----
It was one of those epiphanic moments that never seemed to happen to him. But here it was, hitting him like the defensive lineman cornering him in the school hallway for talking with his girlfriend back in freshman year. He loved her.

Christian loved Gemma. Only he was too clueless to realize it. He couldn't even count on both hands how many times she'd expressed her feelings for him. And he just let her leave. Just like that. She told him in September she was considering going to college in California instead of the University of Wisconsin with all of their friends. He hadn't tried to talk her out of it. Now she was gone. Sure, she'd probably be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but honestly, after a departure like that, she'd probably never want to speak to him again. She could also find herself a good-looking Californian who surfed. He'd hail from Beverly Hills or some other rich city and he could give her everything she ever wanted that she couldn't get from him in Wisconsin. He was doomed. Doomed to give up Gemma to Surfer Dude who was everything he could never be.

It was almost a miracle Christian arrived home safely. His mind had wandered so much he was sure he'd run a couple red lights. Probably a couple of stop signs too the way his luck seemed to have it. Yet he arrived in one piece. At least physically anyway.

"Gemma leave okay?" asked his mother, coming in from the living room after hearing Christian close the door.

"Yeah. She's well on her way to UCLA now," he answered and headed upstairs to his room, where he flopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

He sat up, and something at the foot of his bed caught his eye. A corner of a magazine peeked out from under the covers and he pulled it out. It was one of Gemma's Vogue magazines. It was from last year so she clearly wouldn't miss it, but how it had managed to stay in his room all that time was a mystery. He set it on his bed. He found it hard to believe that a magazine that cost under five dollars could be so thick and so heavy. Thumbing through the pages he realized why. Ad after ad after ad. He smiled to himself.

Then the pangs hit him again. The lineman hit him again and pinned him against his locker. He missed Gemma. Maybe the magazine would help bring her back. He opened the cover and flipped through the pages and pages of ads. Dior, Prada, Gucci, Louis Vuitton. Vera Wang. Jimmy Choo. His head spun with all the names he'd never heard before. But if it could bring Gemma back, he'd deal with it.

He read the whole magazine, cover to cover. He read the captions. He read the photography information. All in hopes that one single word might be the password to the gap in the space-time continuum that would allow him to stop Gemma from leaving. When he finally turned the back cover and finished saying "Yves Saint Laurent" to himself and didn't see Gemma enter the room, he knew it was over. Glancing at his clock, it read three twenty-five. He'd spent three whole hours reading a fashion magazine. If the guys found out... He wouldn't let them. Christian stood and tucked the magazine into his shirt drawer, hiding it underneath his polos. He took a deep breath and put on his pajamas. He shut off the lights, climbed into bed, and tried to sleep.

Sleep didn't come. He was too preoccupied with her leaving that he couldn't find a way to be at peace with it. You let her go, you asshole, he kept telling himself. It's all your fault.

Who knew how long he laid there. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes, it was seven o'clock in the morning. And he had an idea. He reached for his cell phone and dialed her number. Voice mail, as was expected.

"Gemma..." he droned. The lack of sleep was killing him and he found it impossible to form coherent sentences. "Gemma, come back." He inhaled, and exhaled, and inhaled again, and exhaled. Quite loudly, too. "Come home, Gemma. Please." He hung up and flipped the phone shut. He fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling once again.

But why should she come back? He never gave her a reason to stay.