"Are the communists behind this?"
"No."
"So our government lied?"
"Our government is behind this!"
Did Scarlett think she would be involved in a huge...
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"Art is to console those who are broken by life." ~Vincent Van Gogh .｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡
A cool summer breeze blew past making Scarlett shiver. She rubbed her arms to try and stay arm.
"I thought I'd find you here."
Scarlett turned to see Steve climbing out of his bedroom window. "Shouldn't you be back at the party?" She asked while scooting over a bit and allowing Steve to take a seat next to her on the roof. "It's not my party, it's yours," He stated, throwing his head back and giving her a deadpanned smile that reminded the young woman of Han Solo. "It's your eighteenth birthday."
Scarlett only rolled her eyes and shook her head before rubbing her arms again. Steve watched her before he threw a brown sweater on her lap. At her startled expression, he laughed and told her that he imagined she was cold. Shrugging on the sweater, Scarlett nuzzled into the soft fabric. A thank you slipped from her lips as she inhaled the smell of the sweater, it smelled like Steve.
"What are you doing up here anyway? You can smoke on the ground, where it's safe," Steve commented while waving at the cigarette between Scarlett's fingers. She looked over at him with a grin. "I could, but the stars aren't as beautiful down there."
A frown appeared on Steve's face and he looked up at the inky sky above. "Looks the same to me."
"That's because you're not looking," Scarlett retorted. "I am!" Steve defended, before he could protest further, Scarlett laid back and pulled Steve down with her. "They don't look any different."
"Let me talk!" Scarlett raised a finger. "The sky is not really black, it's a mix of dark blues, purples and some pink where the sun has set," Steve followed her finger as she pointed out the elements in the sky that he had missed while he listened to every word she spoke. "Van Gogh always painted like he could see the wind flowing through the air, just imagine it dancing around the stars. Then look, every star is slightly different wether it's in size or colour...."
She continued to speak for a long time and Steve continued to listen. They shared a cigarette and a beer bottle until the night grew too cold for both of them and they creeped back into Steve's room.
The light in Steve's room was on, showing off the mess of clothes, hair products and a girl on his bed. It took a second for Scarlett to realise who the girl was and for her misplaced jealousy to wash away. The fiery red hair should have been a dead giveaway.
"Blake?" Scarlett rushed to Steve's bed and gently brushed Blake's red hair out of her face. "Blake?"
A warm hand on Scarlett's shoulder made her look up. "She's okay, just drunk. She passed out before I went looking for you so I brought her here."
