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E l y s i a n
(adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.
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A book is proof that human are capable of working magic.
– Carl Sagan
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"Stupid, stupid, stupid –"
"Rose! Quarter in the swear jar for you!"
The blonde haired girl merely shrugged; her eyes still on her book as she fished her pocket for a quarter before mindlessly walking and tipping it into the jar.
"I don't really think Stupid is a curse word Helen," Rose's father, Peter explained, peering at Helen through his glasses. He glanced at Rose, who was still bundled up in her blankets on the living room sofa. "What's wrong pumpkin? Book character being annoying?"
Rose nodded sadly. "I want to burn this."
"Well you're not," Helen said, grinning profoundly. "It cost money."
Eventually, the book irritated Rose so much that she got off the sofa abruptly and headed up stairs. "I am going out for air." She said simply, already hearing the Absolutely not! of her mother.
♡♡♡
It was half past four and the pastel colours of the sky swirled together in such harmony that Rose thought she was going to go blind.
The sun was still peeking its rays through the soft hued clouds, giving the atmosphere an almost light coloured sheen.
The Springfield Park was one public place that shared a numerous number of Rose's distinct memories – both embarrassing and hilarious – but it was always her number one spot for a book morning period or just some character fuss that her house couldn't possibly handle.
This park has seen Rose cry over fictional deaths, swear over fictional stupidity, and even just the numbness of Rose's soul after a book hanger over – the park was a friend that saw Rose in her ugly, but never said anything about it.
Being only a few miles from Rose's house, it was yet another reason why she frequently visited during the summer; listening to some of her songs on her phone, the blonde haired girl was completely content about it too.
It was quite a chilly day, and of course out of all days, Rose chose to wear a thin shirt with quarter sleeves, allowing cold gushes of wind to seep through her shirt rather easily.
Cold and frustrated, Rose was surprisingly still able to mouth to some of the lyrics to the songs she was listening to, and even skipped a few steps.
It was very rare when she was allowed to come here, Helen always implying that it wasn't a safe place –There are bad guys there Rose, they'll come and get you and I will let them keep you – but Rose took risks, and whenever she came here, she would always make the most of it.
Settling on one of the benches, Rose was about to pull her book out when her eyes caught sight of a dark figure just a few feet away from her.
Clearly Rose's mind drifted to the Bad guys her Mother was talking about – Oh my God they are actually here I am going to die die die –
Judging from the height of the shadow – this person has already passed six feet – Rose concluded it was a boy, just casually leaning against one of the trees.
But that wasn't what caught her eye – what caught her eye was an orange spark of combustion that made Rose's once relaxed chest now a tightened mess, her brown eyes widening – What was he doing oh my God –
Shuffling in his place, Rose could then see what the boy was clearly doing.
Puffs of smoke left his lips; the white fumes contrasting greatly against his dark hair, his posture relaxing.
He was smoking.
She could somewhat make out the side profile of the stranger's face, and there was no denying in the fact that this mysterious folk was attractive.
But the Rose frowned, almost irked; he seemed so nice, and yet he still had to smoke?
Frustration strained her blood, and irritation stained her nerves; she didn't have anything against people smoking, don't get her wrong, but Rose had something against smoking – the mere deed just wasn't right to her; deliberately inhaling toxins and nicotine just for the pure feel of it.
He didn't even look a day older than seventeen, so he was probably around her age, and yet here he was, taking in that cancer stick.
Rose let out an annoyed breath – why was she even bothered? He could kill himself if he wanted to, she shouldn't care.
Why was she peering her nose into someone's mannerisms that she didn't even know?
But there was this tiny voice on her head; whispering to Rose to make him stop what he was obviously doing.
A tiny voice in her head that told her, she cared.
And it was bizarre – on how she could feel empathy to a stranger she has never seen before, and the idea frightened Rose, but she shook her head at herself; abruptly getting up as she looked one more time at the boy.
She was slightly trembling but no matter – she was already half way across, there was no going back now.
Her feet thumped against the grass, along with her mildly accelerating heartbeat, but Rose was determined to make this work.
Rose hated that cancer stick with a passion, and there was just something infuriating about seeing a cute guy with that monstrous rod tucked in between his lips.
All she knew was that she needed to stop it.
And she has done this plenty of times before; walking up to random strangers, working her charm of scientific conviction that the stick was a lethal liability to their health, to which they always either threw away the cigarette with a small smile on their lips, or scowled at Rose and lit another one the moment she was gone.
"You know, they weren't kidding around when they said that was a cancer stick," She said as she approached him, instantly noticing how insanely tall he was.
He seemed about 6'6, and her being only 5'1, made Rose feel like such an ant next to him, but she tried to put a brave face on – as though it never bothered her, but she could see the twitches her pinky was making.
"Excuse me?" His voice was cold and uninviting, his lips settling into a thin line. He had to crane his neck down to see Rose better, and she was trying not to freak out over how scary he looked.
Blue.
The most stunning cerulean blue she has ever come across; swirling into endless universes in his irises, and Rose could feel her breath hitch in her throat.
His eyes
were so beautiful.
She could feel her insides tingle as she continued to look at him; noticing how some strands of his dark hair fell onto his eyes, while his lips were settled into a frown.
Her heart rate was already going out of control, and she could feel her knees jitter and her elbows shake and she couldn't couldn't couldn't –
"I said, they weren't kidding around when they said that was a cancer stick," She said simply, mildly panicking when she heard the shakes of her tone.
"For fuck's sake," She heard him mutter, an annoyed glare directed right at her. "I honestly do not give a single flying fuck about who were kidding or not, He said flatly, the intensity of irritation in his eyes not faltering by a bit.
"How old are you?" Rose asked, her warm gaze meeting his cold, blue one.
"Why does that matter?" He retorted, a sigh of frustration leaving his lips. "Listen sweetheart, I do not care whether this thing is a cancer stick or not," He sneered, almost appalled. "And frankly speaking, neither should you." He said, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"Alright then," Rose started off, quirking an eyebrow. "But those things cost lives." She stated, a frown invading her lips. "Just do the entire world a favor and please get rid of that." She hissed, her eyes narrowing at the killing machine in between his lips. "And you should know better than to smoke in a park," She scowled, irritation burning her chest like acid. "Especially at a kid's playground."
"What is your problem?" He said agitated, his blue eyes burning with fury. "Why can't you just leave me alone and let me see the consequences of this by myself?" His jaw was clenched as his eyes darkened.
Rose could feel some fear tap her spine, but she ignored it. "I am not leaving until you get rid of that."
He rolled his eyes, an annoyed groan slipping past his lips. "Does it look like I give a fuck?" He said harshly, balling his fists on his sides.
"Look, I don't know what is with you and cigarettes, or what made you despise them," He said, taking a deep breath. "But I think I am sane enough to make my own decisions, and if I want to put a fucking killer in my mouth, then I will." He said, Rose's eyebrow quirking up in challenge.
"Like I said," She said simply. "I am not leaving until you get rid of that."
"What the hell is your problem?" He practically growled, gritting his teeth. "You are just wasting your time with me, so I suggest you go sweet talk your way with someone else." He said before he put his lips to the filter of the death machine and inhaled; letting the fumes escape in the air, his eyes glimmering in confidence.
And Rose would be lying if she said her heart took a leap.
"I made my point," She said, coolly. "And I am going to stick with it." She confirmed, staying right where she was.
When the boy let out an annoyed groan, Rose couldn't really help but grin.
"For fuck's sake," He muttered, scowling at her grin.
He reluctantly peeled the cigarette away from his lips, gave her one last glare before dropping it to the floor and stepping on it with the sole of his beat up black VANS.
"There," He said, annoyed. "Are you fucking happy?" He asked, shaking his head in disbelief at what he had just done.
"Yup," Rose chirped, smiling. "Was that so hard?"
He ran a hair through his messy locks before turning on his heel and leaving, a smug expression plastered on Rose's face.
She could see him put his hands into the pockets of his black jeans as the cool wind loosened his black shirt.
She smiled, nodding to herself and scurrying off to complete her book.
That was the last time they were ever going to see of each other.
Right?