Ray observes people.

Observing people in their daily lives, doing daily things has always been something that has just come to him naturally. He's done this for as long as he can remember. So it really shouldn't have surprised him when he gained an interest for photography at 13 years old. It surely didn't surprise Isabella—his mother—when he did.

Two months before his 14th birthday, he asked his mother if he could have a camera. Isabella raised an eyebrow before asking him why; Ray had just shrugged and said that he wanted to see how one worked. Isabella had replied with a maybe and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

A 'maybe' always meant no, well not always but it usually did. Ray quietly sighed in defeat and went back into his room. Refusing to show just how disappointed he was in front of his mother.

Isabella looked behind her back and saw her son sulking, and she smiled.

On Ray's 14th birthday he had a small party with his close family and one friend. Scratch that, his best friend.

Ray met Norman on the first day of 5th grade. Ray was never one to take the bus, he always walked to school. But after his mother got a new job and moved to a new house, Isabella refused to let him walk three miles to school. And so she signed him up for the list of students who also took the bus.

Walking onto the yellow vehicle filled with screeching children was already enough for Ray. But the fact that there were literally no seats left made him want to pull his hair out. It was like that cliché high school movie where the protagonist passes by a bunch of tables in a cafeteria and every empty chair they pass, someone places a bag, or put their feet on it.

Ray groaned and was about to turn around and walk off the bus completely before someone waved at him. His eyes landed on a boy with white hair that curled a bit on the left side of his head. He looked about his age.

Wordlessly, the boy motioned his left hand to the empty spot next to him. And for a second Ray considered running off the bus. But he didn't, rather he walked up to the boy and sat down next to him. The boy held his left hand out and with a big smile, introduced himself.

"Hello, my name's Norman."

Ray stared at his hand for a second. It wasn't that he didn't like physical contact. He actually didn't have a problem with it, but at the same time he didn't welcome it with open arms. Due to his calm, quiet and reserved personality, people assumed he was just a cold person and avoided him. So these types of things were pretty rare for him. But nonetheless Ray smiled and had shaken Norman's hand.

"Ray."

Norman knew Ray like an open book. So when it came to presents, Norman always got him something he enjoyed. So when Ray opened the blue box, he was confused by the cream colored sketchbook. Raising an eyebrow, Ray looked up at Norman—who was starting to become a giant. Norman had just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"You said art was your favorite class."

Ray shot the albino boy a look before smiling and thanking him. Closing the box he placed it to the side and was happy that opening presents was over with. Even if only a handful of people showed up at his birthday, opening presents was a bit of a hassle for him. Ray stretched his arms up until a hand gently placed a box down on the table right in front of him.

Ray looked to his side and saw his mother smiling down at him. And his eyes had widened slightly as his mouth parted. He turned his head back to the box in front of him, and with slightly shaking hands he reached out for it.

Picking up the box he noticed the silk ribbon neatly tied around it. He could tell his mother put care and time into wrapping the box that he almost didn't want to undo her work. But he had to if he wanted to see what was inside.

Grabbing one of the ends of the bow, Ray tugged on it gently and began to unwrap it. He knew that everyone could probably see his hand shaking when reaching for the lid but he didn't care at the moment. All that mattered was if it was truly inside it or not.

When he pulled the lid off, Ray couldn't help it when he gasped. Inside the box was a pure black camera. The lens reflected back at him and the camera itself seemed to shine. He couldn't bring himself to touch it—at least not yet.

He couldn't help it when he jumped on his feet and hugged his mother. Wrapping his arms around her neck and placing his chin on her shoulder. Isabella smiled and hugged her son back.

"Happy Birthday, Ray."

For the next four years of his life, Ray would take a picture of almost anything. He took pictures of football games, statues, and nature, almost everything. And he loved every second of it. He was 16 years old, a sophomore, when he realized this was what he wanted as a career.

He never touched the sketchbook Norman gave him as a result of this. It sat in one of his drawers. But it wasn't forgotten; Ray just never found anything of worth to draw in it. But Norman always told him that one day, he would.

Norman and Ray were 18 years old when they both received the acceptance letter from the same college. And though they were going to be in different departments, they were still happy to know they would be going together at least.

Nothing was going to change too much hopefully; he was still going to live with his mom. But he planned to help her pay the bills by working at a coffee shop near his school.

Nothing would change. Ray would help his mother around the house, work, study, and take photos. And that was going to be his life.

That is, until he met her.