Broadshaire School of Arts; the dream of every artist, dancer and musician. When Mary-Kate Thompson gets accepted for a transfer after struggling all year with a loss of a family member, she gladly leaves her life in Australia behind and travels acr...
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The pages turned in an enchanting manner, Mary-Kate gathering the upper corner of the page between her middle finger and thumb before turning it over for her eyes to feast on the words inked on the other side. Her hair were gathered into a careful bun at the back of her neck, desiring to keep them away from interrupting her as she read.
On her face Mary-Kate wore the littlest of make-up she could possibly wear, carelessly enjoying her Saturday morning seated in her cozy seat while waiting for Charlie to show up, giving her the opportunity to completely finish the last pages of the book that had stolen her attention. With every page she read her heart ached more and more, craving what she was seeing so beautifully described right in front of her.
But the level of concentration that she had sacrificed on the book was so great she missed the sound of footsteps approaching her, stopping right in front of her table.
"Finding it interesting?"
Mary-Kate's bones almost jumped right out of her skin at the familiar voice that was gently entering her ears, as she was completely sure her heart had stopped in the few milliseconds of her scare before restarting once more. Antonio was staring down at her with a smirk and a cup of take-away coffee in his right hand, proceeding to move the chair in front of Mary-Kate back and sit down, leaning back with ease.
He wore a black coat that seemed so incredibly warm, it made Mary-Kate want to squeeze in with him and never leave. His forest green shirt below kept him just as warm, and perhaps if she stared a little harder, she would be able to see where the material came in contact with his skin and the outline of his body. But Mary-Kate quickly looked away, refusing to go down that tempting path. Yet, her eyes gave in and traveled lower, taking a quick glance at his black jeans, tucked in his boots.
The book felt as if it caught on fire within Mary-Kate's hands, embarrassment spreading like a virus underneath her skin, coloring her cheeks. Mary-Kate reluctantly placed her bookmark between the pages and closed it up, trying to come up with anything that would spare her from dying in her chair as he looked at her in a way Mary-Kate couldn't understand.
"It's okay," Antonio chuckled, "I'm very sure my mum writes her books so they will be read."
Mary-Kate smiled and leaned back at her chair, much more comfortably now, her eyes studying the man on the cover of the book, Antonio's gaze falling on it too. Their similarities were uncanny, so much Mary-Kate couldn't help but realize that it was Antonio's father gracing the artistic cover.
"They seem really in love." Mary-Kate kept her voice quiet, almost to a whisper, leaving her tone to say things words would not express with justice.
"They are. My only hope is to find a love as good as theirs."
Growing up and witnessing a love as strong as the forces holding the sky from collapsing, it left a mark on Antonio. A love that Antonio chased with all that he had when he thought he found it, even if it meant getting his heart broken, or worse. Then, he would get back up and piece himself back together, on his way to find love again, just like his father taught him to. Never allow heartbreak to steal your heart, he used to tell him. Love isn't what hurts. Selfishness, pride, falling out of love, those hurt, yes. But never love. It's too pure, too precious to cause pain. Too delicate, some would say. So delicate humans take advantage of it, beat it up and twist it around until it's not love, but something dark and broken, never to be repaired again. Like a piece of paper, crumbled again and again. No matter how much you spread it out, smooth it out, press it down, it will never be what it used to be before. That is what hurts. The crumbling.
