𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

⁷⁵and for you the roses bloom

clementine

"Is this where your obsession started?" Luke jokingly asks, skimming through the books on the shelf of my childhood bedroom. "I see there's... History of Monet, Berthe Morisot Masterpieces, Art History, what is this - architecture?" He pulls out a thick book from the top and holds it on his arm, inspecting. "I didn't know you were into architecture,"

I stand up from my bed and make my way to the shelf, pulling out another book from the middle. "I thought it was something I needed to learn to get into art, but instead, it wasn't that useful. Everett got obsessed with it, though," I open the book on his arms and flip through the pages, the once monochrome sketches vandalised with multi-coloured crayons and silly faced drawings.

I let Luke flip through the pages, eyes lit in interest at the little entertainments of my past.

Seeing him stood in the middle of my room seems a little bizarre. I didn't imagine both worlds could intermingle, yet here we are. He stands out, a bruised and battered sore thumb. He doesn't match the clementine wallpaper, my fair blue bed sheets, or the posters of gallery openings on my wall. It all belongs to life before New York, Luke is everything after.

I wish I could tuck myself into my sheets once again, close my eyes, and find myself waking to mom's cooking, dad's putrid fertiliser wafting down the hall, Maddie and Everett arguing from the kitchen.

"Why'd you give me the smaller one? I want the other one -" Everett's voice calls.

"'Cause I cut it, so I get to choose which I wanna have," Maddie replies.

Well, at least they still argue.

Since Luke and I arrived, we've all been avoiding the main thing we should be talking about. Dad. Everett and Maddie pretended it was just my vacation and Ollie stayed out to study.

I peer out my window and pry out on the scene.

The house doesn't look any different to when I left, except for the balcony, which is starting to look much like a plant graveyard. Greyed and crumpling, their life seems to have been stripped off, lying over their pots in wilting surrender.

Ollie's sitting outside, hunched over his school work, the sun on his back and his head on his hand, the lack of life around making the scene seem more depressing.

"Alright, close your eyes, we have sandwich, pick your slice," Maddie waltzes in the room with a plate, Everett marching behind, chomping on a similar looking sandwich slice.

"Sandwiches?" Luke echoes, looking up at her.

"Sandwich. Only one, cut into two. We ran out of bread," She puts her hand over Luke's eyes. "Pick, pick,"

Quickly, I grab the smaller slice off the plate, watching Luke take the latter larger one.

"I - hey," Maddie pouts before letting her hand off Luke and sitting behind him.

Luke pulls away and takes a bite off the sandwich, continuing to flip through the photo album.

"Hey, Clem," Everett calls on my name, feeling him sit behind me on my bed.

"Hm?"

I hear him sigh, making me turn back to look at him. He's giving the last piece of his sandwich a melancholy look, his mouth twisted in contemplation.

"We can always buy more bread," I say, though knowing what he must be concerned with.

He looks up at me and presses a smile. "I know," He gives a wary glance at Luke. "How, um, how was he? Dad, I mean," He continues, the unexpected switch from English to our mother tongue catching me off-guard for a moment.