Conniption- |H.S.| Harry Styles.

Chapter One

//con·nip·tion\\
~noun
•••a fit of rage or hysterics•••

Salem

Tired. I am absolutely tired. I've been working on this painting for the art gallery, where I am going to sell my work, for about five hours now. I think my hands are numb. It's worth it though.

"Salem! Come over here!" Eli says, yelling across the apartment.

I sigh and walk to where I heard the voice coming from.

I love Elijah, I really do. But i don't think that love is romantic. We've been together since sophomore year of highschool and now we're both twenty-three years old. If i'm being honest, i think the only reason why our relationship has lasted the length that it has is because of my mom.

Sometimes it felt like my mother was more involved in my relationship than her own. Don't get me wrong she's a terrible person, so she's doing it for all the wrong reasons. She's the type of person to get involved in her daughter's relationship just to control her and that's exactly what she's doing. But I guess it's on me too because I let her.

Ever since I was little, I've always let other people have their say over mine because I have always been too shy to say anything. Things are still like that today except for the one person i'm not shy around and that's Cora, my best friend. Weirdly, we are complete opposites. She's got a strong personality where she says things like it is to anyone who needs to hear it. I envy her for that sometimes.

Sometimes I envy other people's abilities to be completely themselves around everybody and anybody without caring what they think. I care too much about what people think. If someone stepped on my toe, I'd probably be the person to apologize for my toe being in the way of their foot.

I turn the corner of the hallway and see Eli standing there looking intensely into his phone.

"So I was thinking about getting a tattoo the other day and i think i'm going to get it done this week. Look," he hands me his phone where i see, what appears to be an illustration of a dumbbell, on the screen, "Seriously?" I look up at him to see his face get an annoyed look.

"Yes seriously. God, do you ever stop being so damn judgemental?" He harshly rips his phone from my hand.

"I didn't mean to be, I was just seeing if this was something you actually wanted to do. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way," I shift my feet nervously. Sometimes he can get a bit angry out of nowhere so i've always got to prepare myself for the worst.

He just sends me a disgusted look and walks away.

Jesus. All this because of a fucking dumbbell tattoo?

I walk back into my art area where I create all of my pieces. I take a few strides and look at my finished piece that I will be selling tonight.

Art is how I make a living, and if I'm being honest, it's pretty good money. For every piece i charge about ten thousand dollars. All of my work is purely realism. It's the only form of art that I think really catches the eye.

With abstract work you can pretty much slap random colors of paint on a canvas in ten minutes and call it a day, but with realism you use a paintbrush and copy every single detail that can be insignificant to the audience but holds all the purpose to the artist. You learn how to be as efficient as a printer.

I give my canvas one last look before leaving the room and shutting the door behind and locking it so no one goes in or out apart from me.

As I lock the door behind me I hear the front door slam shut. Well I guess Eli left.