lemon lover [cth]

01

The poet waits quietly
to paint the unsaid

- Atticus

Lemon Lover
01| Freedom

Cold was the air in that early may night. Cold as the shower water before 6am. But Ava didn't intend to take a shower after her nightly trip, mainly to not wake her parents up and be forced to explain why she took a shower at 3 am on a school night, not to mention why she was even up in the first place.

No, Ava's intentions were entirely different as she put the lid back on her black spray bottle, stepping back to admire her masterpiece.

If you could even call it that.

It was a faulty sketch of a two dimensional dog, though it appeared more like a cat crossed with a crocodile; the snout was exaggeratedly lengthy, while the body was too short.

However it wasn't the quality of her sketches that made her do this. It was the joyful thrill she experienced whenever she snook out, mindlessly committing vandalism, not a care left in the world, though her actions could lead to serious consequences.

So far, she hadn't been caught.

Once, nearly, but she managed to escape the situation professionally as in outrunning the two policemen on her back, that didn't seem too ambitious to catching up anyways.

But tonight was all peaceful. No running, no almost getting caught, no policemen on her back and no thoughts haunting her anymore. They had vanished after her second draw.

Ava had never really been a fan of alcohol. Only a few drinks were acceptable, the rest tasted like corrosive acid to her tongue and throat.

Never could've she have guessed that soon enough tequila would roll smoothly over her tongue, sliding down her throat like water as she stared into the eyes of pure freedom.

Freedom.

That was the feeling she was chasing. The feeling she reached whenever she took a few draws from her blunt somewhere in the shabby part of town, before embellishing it's shabbiness with her poor art. Her secret night trips were the only thing to satisfy her desire of fresh night air and timelessness.

Freedom.

The feeling he could never establish feeling. Dissatisfaction haunted him, crept up upon him at every time. It was a huge ball of stress building inside of him, in the pit of his stomach, making him restless. And it could explode at any given time.

He had found a way of coping. Drowning his worries in alcohol, getting his mind off of things by chasing hookups or simply biting into a lemon, the sour taste running chills through his body, releasing an ever so slight bit of stress.

While Ave snook back into her house, Calum laid awake, staring at the popcorn ceiling above him, annoyed by all the little irregular bumps that simply wouldn't form a sample. There was no point, no mind behind it and it  made his blood boil as simple as it was.

All these little imperfections made his perfectionist heart itch.

He could feel his hands tremble, tempted to shape fists, tempted to rip the popcorn out of the wall if not take down the wall as a whole.

The emotions inside of him were crippling again, threatening to take over control, but he tried to fight it, push it away.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

But he couldn't stop it.

A/N: thanks for reading :)

VOTE!