Artgirl

23// la fine, pt 1

I would like to thank you for being a part of artgirl and of mailboy. thank you for your patience. I will give this book the ending it deserves, because this is their, zico's, story ends. Their ending will be divided in two parts: hers and his, as I wouldn't think it fair for you to not get a goodbye from both Zoey and Nico.

I'm so sorry for my absence. I forgot how to be a writer for a year. I hope you like this, and I know my writing isn't as good as it used to be, but this is all I could come up with. Not that this matters, but I feel like I've had to change quickly, from Artgirl's writer to someone else this past year: and I forgot how to be in touch with my characters, to want to write them. I need to give you the ending Artgirl deserves.

ps. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND re-reading the chapter before, so that all of this makes sense. Or re-read Artgirl. Whatever gets you to be as touched by this ending as I am.

Thank you, with all of my heart. For everything.

btw: la sua is Italian for hers.

ARTGIRL 23: la fine, pt. 1 - per lei

"Don't trust the moon, she's always changing. The shores bend and break for her. And she begs to be loved, but nothing here is as it seems." Halsey

present tense: 1 year after barcelona, 6 years since they have first met

zoey willow hunter: woman, friend, lover, artist who inhales life and exhales art

I AM SO IN LOVE, I thought.

My hands were warm and the dying sunshine seemed to embrace me in its arms. I was always a part of something. The fourth in a family, the third in friendships, the half in a relationship— I never treasured the beauty of living for me. I was whole when it came to my heart, it only beat for me.

In Barcelona, I had laughed like I had gold pent up in my lungs, and watched as Jessie twirled her mother around to music in the cold morning. The gratitude rushed over me like a tide washing over the shore, finally coming home. It was a sense of belonging that I hadn't known I was looking for. I wanted to feel at home in the world, but it never crossed my mind that to do that, I needed to feel safe in my own body. Test its limits, love it, care for it and keep it out of touch but near love.

The warm pastries in my hand were a sweet reminder of winter, but I was living in the prime of summer. I was no longer blooming, no longer caught in the eye of the storms, no longer a neverending snow fall: I was shining bright, mercilessly, carelessly upon myself and upon the world around me.

I loved and danced and cried in that city, it welcomed me as one of its own. Jessie and I leaned on each other to grow from the ashes of our dream, we talked and talked, ate until our stomachs were more than full, drank from the essence of hope.

The past is blurry to me, but that trip is something I will never forget.

We stood by the Font Magica and closed our eyes. The wind blew softly, keeping the city in place. According to Jessie, this was strange for the season. Maybe I felt so soft because my body working harder, relentlessly to keep me warm. I needed it more than ever, with more scars than clear skin.

"Make a wish, Red," Jessie sighed and opened her arms. People stared at her, as she did so: but I like to think it was because of how beautiful she looked, right there and then. She was angelic, the halo of pain and growth glowing around. "This is where magic happens."

I want to be happy, please. I want to be happy. I want to heal.

Maybe it was Jessie's magic, or the raining lights around us: but as soon as I opened my eyes, I felt the wish come true. Just enough to give me hope.