blue ✓

ten

"I'm sorry dude," I say between chuckles. "It sort of just happened, okay?"

"Yeah whatever, you owe me." Sean demanded.

I think for a moment before searching through my apron hung on a hook against the shed wall, paint was splattered all over the material from its excessive use and stains of coffee and tea danced with those colours. I look in the pocket as I remembered my last art class down town the other week, my friend owned the studio and left me 'gifts' here and there as a thank you for attending his small classes. I take out the joint and show my friends, earning all three to eagerly shout at me.

"Sean gets first hit, since I owe him." I wink before handing him the roll of paper, his smile growing as he takes it in his hand and lights the end with his black lighter.

"You're forgiven." He says before puffing out a large breath full of smoke, handing it to Ethan when he's finished. "Where did you even get that?" He asked as our other friends take in the delight, puffing back the toxic smoke with glee in their eyes.

"My friend." I shrug.

"That painter guy?" Richard asks before handing me the joint.

"Yeah," I reply. I take in a sharp breath as the end of the joint meets my lips, letting the smoke fill my lungs smoothly as I inhale. "He's always giving me these weird thank you gifts when I go to class." I breath out as I talk, coughing at the end of my sentence before handing the joint back to Sean.

"Well, be sure to get some more thank you gifts." Richard comments with a laugh.

Hours pass in a motion of slow conversations about universal thoughts, it took me ten years to finally realise what my friends were all about and a shared joint between us was the key to those answers. We talked of our first times, when passion ignited our bones and when liquor washed against our tongues at young ages. We talked of bullshit feelings and amazing feelings, we talked of the universe and space and nothing felt more real than right now. Finally we spoke of love, a final thought on our evening as it came to a close with weary eyes and tired minds.

"You love her don't you, Harry?" It didn't take a genius to figure out what Richard meant, but my eyebrows still furrowed as I looked down at the ground below me. I didn't know what love was at eighteen, who did? I just knew of the feelings that came over me when I looked into her blue eyes, the adventure I felt when I watched her from afar and up close and how it felt to finally kiss her.

"I honestly wouldn't know," I replied. "I know what I feel when I look at her though."

"And what's that?" Ethan asks, all three eyes watching me.

"Infinity." I shrug. "I create art to capture beauty, but with her it's already there and it's raw and it's wonderful." I look to a sketch I'd laid out on my pile across the shed weeks ago, my favourite image of her sitting in that oak tree with a crappy romance novel in her hands, hair dancing with the breeze around her. "She is art."

***

l o l a

I'm slowly fading away into a darkness he's created, I never knew what it was that kept me around the toxic world but I'd always told myself it was love. Love, love, love. I didn't know what it meant but it was something I was sure existed, not like this though and with each bitter conversation and forced kiss I knew this relationship would never be anything raw, it was all just a possessive game.

I sat at the dinner table with tears threatening to fall to the plate below me, the meal barely touched as I picked around the vegetables with my fork. He sat next to my mother, always commonly gravitating towards her with a charming smile on his beautiful face. They spoke about his music, his blue eyes gleamed with his smile and I finally realised the same boy I grew so fond of a year ago wasn't here anymore. That boy I met at a local gig, his guitar in one hand and a pick in the other as he sang beautiful songs into my head.

He was gone, consumed by new afflictions and new thoughts.

Everything was spiralling through my mind like a hurricane, emotions threatened to expose my flesh and memories of a emerald eyed boy burned in my brain like a broken record. It took every ounce of strength in my soul to fight back my emotions, chewing on my lips or biting my nails was my only escape as Louis voice rang through my head every minute tonight.

"Honey, why aren't you eating your dinner?" My mother stops her chit-chat with my boyfriend to comment on my behaviour, a tenseness behind her tone rather than sincerity.

"I don't really feel all that well." I comment with a low tone, my father notices my behaviour and steps in.

"Ah, yeah she doesn't look right Angela." His voice was soothing to me in this moment, all night he sat quietly eating his food but now he spoke up and lifted my spirits with comforting eyes. "Lola, why don't you wash up and head to bed?"

"Babe? You all good?" Louis asks, now noticing my off behaviour. Thoughts flashed through my mind of what would happen if I was the blurt my thoughts, let these tears spill down my cheeks in front of my less-than-perfect mother and dark, possessive boyfriend. Tell them how I kissed his rosy lips and felt more in those few seconds than I'd ever felt before, how he brought new life to my frail soul.

"Yeah, might be coming down with something I guess." I suppose my mind was trained to lie, hide away the feelings my mother told me to never show and keep the perfect image she created intact. I glance to my father who looks to me with kindness, I smile for the first time tonight at him before standing up and announcing my departure with a sigh. I don't bother cleaning my plate, tossing it in the sink before heading to my bedroom as I notice eyes burning into my skin.

I sink down into my bed as the crisp air from my window brushes against my hot skin, I puff out a exhausted breath before shutting my eyes and letting images of Harry's perfect smile and bright eyes enter my mind. My world was a canvas of perfectly illustrated images to fool the watchers eyes, a happy girl with the perfect home and perfect family, adding the perfect boyfriend to that. But it wasn't, it wasn't raw and passionate like what Harry was and it wasn't real, not like what I felt when he was near. I lay in my bed wondering if my thoughts could somehow call to Harry through the night air, taking me back to the world of colour and infinity with the beautiful emerald eyed boy.

***

authors note;

welcome to the new and improved chapter ten, hope you like it guys. thank you to anyone still reading this story and I hope you have a lovely day/evening.
-A