She chuckles softly, her soft laughter filling the boys ears, "I love you," she says picking him up and setting him back down on the bed. "I love you too!" He says happily, the woman brushes her hands through his hair.
His brown locks go through her slender fingers easily, she was surprised by how soft his hair was, usually after it dries it because tangled but today was different. It was softer, almost foreign to the touch as it flowed.
She smiled to herself as George drifted off to sleep and the chatter turned into soft breathing and white noise. The woman stood up and carefully took her fingers off of George's head smiling at his now peacefulness. She walks to the window and quietly locks it.
It was the middle of winter and although the rest of the house was warm George's room was cold. He was always fond to the coldest parts of life.
He loved autumn and winter, seeing the leaves change color and feeling the cool breeze hit his face while the snow starts creeping in as time flies by.
When the snow came George was a different person, he was happier, he was stronger(?) but he described it as Green.
His mother always made an effort to wake up before he did to get him to put on some warm clothing. It was hard for her, with her youthfulness slipping away as George grew, it made it harder for her to keep up with him.
As the woman walked into her shared room with her husband she started coughing and the harshness of it hurt her throat, she sat down on the bed exhausted, she only walked a few feet but that was all it took to make her tired nowadays.
"Maybe we should take you to a doctor," the man said huskily and turning on a lamp. "Who will take care of George," she said dismissing his request. "We could always take him with us," he suggested and she shook her head.
She was alone, all alone, her family refusing to accept that she was in love with a man. To them he wasn't a man he was fake, even though in their country being lgbtq was accepted her family disapproved of it, they always called her husband the wrong gender and after George was born she had enough.
They wanted her to end up with a real man but she was already with one. They still try to come around and see George but she was not going to give in until they accepted him as one of them.
But now she was sick, she was dying, after a couple days of the same old coughing she just couldn't get up anymore, it was summer now and she couldn't go outside with George.
George was sad, the deep aching blue inside of him growing stronger as the reality of his mother's condition grew.
Luckily they caught it before it wasn't reversible, George was happy knowing she could still be by his side. His dad told him not to worry and she'll be up in no time, the now 9 year old jumped up and down happily.
"Can I see her, please" he said looking up at his dad, "Later buddy," he nods sadly, "Daddy, I feel blue," his face fell and he grabbed George's face softly. George leaned into his touch, it reminded him of his mom, they were alike. "Let's go get some ice cream," George perked up and nodded quickly causing his dad's laughter to fill the room.
George always referred to his emotions as colors, when he learned about colors and their meaning he changed how he expressed his emotions, his parents never knew why but they always went along with it. "Why Green," they would ask but with his limited speech he always responded with, "it's pretty."