blue ✓

forty two

harry

It has been ten days since I watched my blue eyed girl run away from me. Ten agonising days of waiting by my phone to see if she replied, waiting up until the early hours of the morning hoping she will call back. It was like my chest had been ripped into, exposing my heart and aching as it dripped dry, an ache that caused me to sleep more and live less, hide in the comfort of my room rather than expose my flesh and bones to reality. I hated it, but I couldn't get up and smile when the crushing reality of heartbreak pulled my insides out, like a toxic venom seeping through my mind.

The only thing I could do, was paint.

I emptied out my collection during the past two years, burnt my sketches and ripped apart any canvas' left in my shed. I wanted to create new beginnings with my art, but all I could do was paint that same image I sketched the first day I laid eyes on Lola.

Grieving a lost love was a tough thing to swallow, like knives scraping down your throat and into the pits of your rib cage. And no matter how wonderful the colours I used, happy the image was made out to be, it still felt the same when I looked at the image of her and those bright blue eyes.

The picture has always been incredibly perfect in my mind, I thought. Her eyes brighter than the sun itself, on a day it could glistened with waters and blue skies. Her expression tame, but filled with wonder as she bit into her chapped lip, crooked teeth exposed when she smiled along a line she read in her wonderful mind. She was infinite, and I loved my blue eyed girl with galaxies inside her chest, I loved her so much I pushed her away somehow.

But I couldn't lose her this simply, by one mistake. So I packed up my art supplies, I washed my hands and cleaned myself as best I could, and I marched out that front door without a second thought.

I walked the distance, eager to freshen my mind in the air around me. It was tranquill, the air was softening in the skies and the world became a little colder with the day drawing out, hitting my skin and waking up my soul. The sun peaked behind the clouds and laid against my skin, and when I arrived to those familar gardens I couldn't help but smile widely.

Flowers bloomed and the grass glistened emerald green, mellow skies and burning suns kissing the edges of her home and making that pale paint glow within the dimming hours. I stepped through the gate, making it creak loudly and announce to the home I was here. I sighed before walking down the familiar path, up the stairs with the increased beat of my heart, and knocking on the door four times before taking in a large breath.

It flew open and I admit, my colour dimmed when her mother's blue eyed appeared before me. I open my mouth to speak, but her tongue was sharp and she was ready for battle.

"Go away," she spits. "she doesn't ever want to see you again."

I bite my cheek in hopes to keep myself grounded. "I'd like to speak to her, listen to what she has to say." I reply calmly. "Please."

Her mother chuckles with dry humour, eyes swiping down my attire. "You just don't get it do you?" she clicks her tongue as she places two hands over her hips, glaring like the devil. "Lola is going to the city to work in her fathers business next fall, she is going to college to study law during that time as well, she is already back with Louis and planning her future with him and she is never, ever going to remember how you broke her heart because you–my dear boy–are nothing but a lowlife artist who is going to end up just like his father."

I didn't register her words until moments later, and that was when the door was slammed in my face. I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply through my nose and letting the air around me consume the anger that bubbled inside. I stormed off the front porch, loudly and obnoxiously so I could be heard from behind those walls. I was pissed, more so becuase these words running through my mind came from the devil in heels and a pale yellow dress. It was clear I wasn't liked by Lola's mother, so how could I know her words were true, and not an attempt to shatter my hopes in making this okay again.

I kick the garden around me before opening the gate, making sure to kick the flowers into the air and then slamming the gate as loudly as I could. The fence rattled as I stormed down the street, not looking back as my anger boiled to a level I hadn't experience in quite a long time.

The walk to the studio didn't take long, or perhaps my mind was too occupied with the thoughts of Lola with Louis again that I didn't pay attention. But moments passed and soon I was storming up the stair case, my feet heavy with the anger that pulled me into the ground. I find the studio quickly, passing by a few people before reaching the door.

I didn't even have to knock, the door swinging open as I lifted my fist.

"Harry?" I didn't recognise her at first, but those wide eyes and full lips reminded me quickly.

Mona.

"Mona?" She smirks as I reach her name with complication, she nods but doesn't explain my question. "What are-"

"H," there he was, Z. He was dressed in only a pair of loose fitting jeans and white socks, his hair tousled and his face rugged and messy. "What are you doing here?"

I swallow roughly, feeling my throat tighten. This was awkward, Mona was Lola's best friend and she surely knew what was going on between us. But her eyes were still innocent when she stared at me, not at all guilt ridden like she knew Lola was back with her ex boyfriend.

"I needed to talk to you." I admit.

"Oh?" Z replies. "What about?"

"Lola," Mona blurts before I can even speak. "Come in Harry." She moves away from the entrance, leaving space for me to enter.

I oblige and enter the studio, sighing in relief.

***

"I haven't spoken to Lola since the day before the party," Mona admits. "She hasn't spoken to anyone."

I crumble. "Except Louis." I sigh.

Mona's eyes glaze over my features in sorrow, adjusting herself on the couch. "I don't know, Harry," she acknowledges. "But I do know she loves you, a lot."

I wasn't sure what that meant anymore, love. I always imagined love–though not necessarily real–soft, like the summer rays touching your skin through the window, morning dew inhaled through your lungs and bliss running down the limbs of your body. It was happiness, looking to that person and seeing nothing but sunshine. They would soothe you, save you, love you, and in a way you bound together like two souls in a dark galaxy, finally igniting when you touch.

It felt like I was left inside that universe now, all alone and dark. I could still feel Lola inside me, feel the touch of her lips and the taste of her skin. But she wasn't around, she was a ghost, left to search for something she didn't quite know what she was looking for.

"Do you think-" I swallow the lump rising in my throat, my stomach ached as my lungs inhaled sharply. "Do you think she still loves him?" The words rolled from my tongue like toxic venom, seeping down my chin and through my throat and absorbing into my chest to fill my body with hatred and hurt.

Mona doesn't really answer, she looks at me with vague intent but when she looks to Z for a split second, I realise she only knew what love was now. When she stared at the golden boy as he prepared a cup of coffee for the two of them, as she watched his body move and his throat wiggle as he swallowed.

And because she only knew what love was in the moments she spent inside this studio, she wondered if Lola truly did love Louis.

But she didn't say those words, all she said was a vague observation, and it broke my ribs to expose my heart and scattered it all over the world that was once blue, turning it red and dark.

"I know she loves you, Harry."

***

authors note;

Sorry this chapter isn't too interesting, but it's needed here to wrap up the ending a bit.

Hope you enjoy!

-A