Before We Start Again

one: new beginnings

The lightness of the air, coupled with the aroma of coffee and pizza inside Angelo's was always rather warm and inviting: something I looked forward to each and every time I went there. The same hellos and the same goodbyes and the same peace I felt surrounded by genuinely jubilant people... but sometimes even the thought of happy got exhausting.

I am alone, and I am shattered.

It was precisely 7.15 am when the birds starting singing, their lullabies filling the town centre's warily quiet ambience, bringing a small amount of calm with it. The first few mornings of November in St Clement's always seemed frighteningly cold and rather unforgiving- perhaps, nearly just as cold and as unforgiving as me. Or perhaps they were a reminder as to the dread and disgust that comes with routine, as well as the annoyance the town faced again; the mid-term holidays finishing and the dreams of a lavish life out somewhere on a remote tropical island vanquishing back to what it was: a dream.

Though my intuitively pessimistic nature often stopped me from looking at the bright side of things, I was a good reader. I could feel that there were several unsettling yet beautiful things about that particular morning: the wind was unusually calm, as if it was waiting for me to make a small mistake and swallow me up as a punishment, eventually guiding me to my path- (whether good or bad, I don't know); the trees were dancing elegantly, in a trance like state, whirling like dervishes, spiritually enticing and whimsically poetically; and the tall, dark and handsome Ryder Casanova standing under the unusually vacant canopy outside on Angelo's, the moonlight highlighting both his sharp, features- his jawline and the nose, as well as his delicate delicate features, such as the smoothness of skin and the swirl in his hair, caressing each curve and every angle to a tee.

Even the universe worshipped this bad boy. 

Bringing a cigarette to his mouth, his eyes were glazed with a sheen of doubt- a shade rarely seen on this prince of arrogance. For a moment or two, he stood still, his tall figure over empowering the locality. Everything around him stopped for a while- the wind stopped howling and the leaves almost stopped falling mid-way. He scrunched his face slightly, as if he was in deep contemplation over something, biting his lip ferociously, making it swollen and bleeding slightly. He wiped the blood off of his lips, looked at it for a moment and then, suddenly, he threw the cigarette onto the snow, pressing on it firmly with his leather boots, and then promptly walked into Angelo's, stopping inside the door to wipe of the remaining snow on his boots.

Sitting on the corner of the door, perched on the high seats, I had the full view of the entire scene, and this I fell into his mesmerising trap, and made the mistake of staring just a little too hard, for a little too long, observing his black eyes expressionless and hungry. I gulped awkwardly, a sheer pink heat over my face as I observed his highness linger for a moment or two, his expression unreadable, before he headed away from the door to the counter and away from my view.

I quickly averted my gaze after he left (rookie mistake #1) and began to instantaneously curse myself for inadvertently staring. I spent the next half an hour on a caffeine initiated high, writing up the physics essay we had received yesterday, that was due in two weeks later. Sometimes loneliness had it perks- you had endless time to write, edit, revise and rewrite anything.
That particular morning, I felt down and disgusting, and the events in the summer deepened my desire to run away from existence and never look back. The holiday restorations for Angelo's had happened due to the presumably new management, and there was now a large banner spanning accords the store front, in a posh type font and overall more professional, replacing the small handmade signs there was just a few months ago. From where I was sitting I could see the reflections of the inner lights behind me flickering dimly, but in a brilliant white shade, as opposed to the cheesy yellow lights which were there before. Even Angelo's didn't feel like home anymore and thus, in my hurry to go back to the one place of solitude I could find, I forgot that things change. When I first started university a year and 6 weeks ago, I kept trying to convince myself that it will be okay. University can't be that bad, can it? I asked myself over and over, my mind filled with a thousand threats and little consolation. There were no words to describe it- I hated change and hated myself.

The first year was mostly uneventful, a quiet blip on my existence, with depressive episodes every couple of weeks, and manic, unprecedented behaviour following it. The repercussions were usually forgotten about, because everyone was in the same boat. At least that's what I tried to convince myself.
Over the summer, things had changed a lot. Going home made me realise the exact reason why I chose to leave my hometown of St Andrew's, a rich and elite town on the edge of the artificial Cos River, just a half hour journey from Manhattan, and most importantly, that was one decision I didn't regret. Contrastingly, the small university town of Eldercreek felt different, and I had realised upon arrival this year that maybe this wasn't meant to be home too.

My caffeine inundated bliss was coming to an end, and I instantly felt more angst, and my head thumping. Deciding I needed more to complete this essay, and to get through the day, I shut my laptop screen and walked towards the coffee counter standing in a queue of around twenty. Normally, I'd be served in less than a couple of minutes, but it seemed like the new baristas enjoyed conversing with their clients- especially the new female freshmen.
This was going to be a long wait.
After a few long minutes, I found myself perched on the side of the queue's ribbon , tapping my foot nervously, trying to decide what to get. Normally I'd wait for a few people to go to the front and order first, and I'd happily follow suit, so that my demands would blend in with everything else, and I would be forgotten, but that particular morning was dull and they were taking individual orders rather than everything together- new management rules, again. I finally decided for a hot chocolate to wake me up and, hopefully, invigorate me. I kept my eyes on the ground, tracing the grooves on the sleek now dark grey floor, wondering where each line ended.

"May I help you, gorgeous?" A medium pitched voice said, causing me to look up immediately. The barista stood there smiling, his eyelashes fluttering and piercing eyes staring right into mine. He looked young, maybe twenty at the oldest, his dark blonde curly hair framing his innocent look perfectly. I looked down for a moment, trying to break the gaze, but when I looked up he was still watching.
"A hot chocolate please, 3 vegan marshmallows and extra cream and cocoa." I from the menu banner above us, purposely, even though I knew what I wanted to order.
"Order number eight coming right up!" He winked and started prepping the drink.
"So- you new here?" He tried to converse, waiting for the water to warm.
"No." I answered, politely. I tried to make it sound like a strong no so he would stop talking to me but it came out feeble. That was probably because of my inner conflictions: the not wanting to talk to anyone but trying to remain friendly, sides fighting with each other.
"You look awfully young-" he continued.
"I'm nineteen." I instantly cut him off.
He turned around for a moment, a smirk on his face. So this is why the service here is so slow.
"Same." He said, quietly. "You're not a freshman?"
"I'm a second year."
"Clever."
"Used to be anyway."
"I'm Johnny, Johnny Whittaker."
"Freshman?"
"Freshman and barista. It's a family business."
"Oh. Nice."
"I'll see you around..."
"Athena."
"I'll remember that."  He winked and I smiled back. He won't.

I took the mug from the counter and proceeded to walk back to my seat, back to the isolation I forced myself into. It was on days like these- the normal, uneventful days- where I felt the most misery. Around me, I saw people laughing with joy, anticipation and hope in their eyes, and a sense of willingness to live- creating moments worth remembering, small celebrations  to look back on and days full of activity. The things I lacked.
It's the small things I missed about being young and being wanted- the carelessness and freedom of will and power and the provocativeness of feelings. Being a concave nutshell was now such an irregularity that it often tarnished my day in a poisonous way.
Nonetheless, I trudged on. And that was perhaps just about the only victory I gave myself credit for.

"Shit!" I yelped as I dropped the empty mug from the corner of my desk. Serves me right for not listening to my mother- she always said it's customary to put crockery and cutlery at centre of the table. Part of me was happy I disobeyed that woman.
As I bent down to pick up the larger pieces, I was met with a pair of dark, cold eyes. But I couldn't compel myself to look away.

"You know, you should never stare at strangers." He smirked.

*
A/N
Hi guys! This is my new project... it just sort of happened. I know this chapter is insanely boring and cliche, but I enjoyed writing it 😂 This book is just gonna probably the epitome of utter cringe but hey, I'm a hopeless romantic... no high hopes for this one lol