Romanticized Life ✰ Eddie Munson

✰3✰

✰ Harley's POV ✰

I slam the notes i made while finishing my chemistry homework on my desk. Chemistry sucks.

I haven't eaten since last morning and my body feels terrible. If my mom heard about this, she'd kill me herself. The most logical thing to do is go downstairs to get food. So i decided to obey the reasonable voice in my head and slowly left the study, moving towards the stairs. My gaze slips to the front door and i freeze for a moment.

Gareth told the background he needs is for the next Saturday. I told the boy i'm busy and i won't be able to finish a huge background sheet if i am to sleep, eat, do my homework and attend the shithole called 'school'. I have six hours till dawn.

The decisions are made, and i walk past the kitchen, heading to the studio.

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My hands are covered in paint when i step back to leave another segment of the painting to dry. The whole thing is drawn on a huge piece of linen cloth, almost as big as my queen sized bed sheets. Work keeps strangling me, so the only time i have to paint is at night. It has been six days. Wait, no, a week. It's dawn of Saturday, and birds, who begun singing annoyingly close to my windows half an hour ago, have already awoken in me enough of rage to snatch my shotgun any second now and get rid of every single feathered creature that flies this woods.

My studio has one wall covered in huge panoramic windows which overlook a wide, beautiful terrace. It's getting lighter outside, and I can already spot there two cats, who i occasionally fed with my parents throughout my life. My mom, when visits me, finds it her duty to almost strangle poor things with her love. I never bothered to name them, but Gareth did. The one with short orange fur is Pretzel, and a grey lump of fur is... Lynch, was it?

Pretzel stayed an energetic kitty he was years ago, whilst Lynch is an old, worn out soul. Our moods often match, so when Gareth arrives, sometimes he sees two of us sitting in an armchair outside, both wearing a grumpy face.

I wash out another brush in my tea. I accidentally confused the paint water cup with my drink halfway finishing the painting, so i just wet my brushes in both of them.

After all my tools are left to dry on a stool by the table, i head to the kitchen to take some ham from the fridge. It's half empty, since i rarely eat, and when i do, i usually eat in diners or restaurants around the city, in between studying. Mostly my fridge is filled with yogurts or fruits i consume to not feel like the walking dead throughout the morning.

But there's always some ham for the cats.
I take the package and cross my studio to open the glass doors. Fresh, warm air blows over my face as i step outside. The orange kitty darts to my feet, meowing excitedly. That'd be cute, if he wasn't screaming instead of meowing.

I smile at the loud noise and find Lynch with my eyes, who didn't even bother to move. My smile grows in amusement when i see him wincing at the screaming kit in annoyance.

Great, the only one who shares my mind is an old grumpy cat.

I leave an open pack of ham by a coffee table outside. Before going back to the studio and closing the doors, i hear a distant clock strike.
Hallucinations are a common thing in my life, and the only thing that distracts me is music.

As i return inside to check up on the painting, i slide my headphones and a player off the bar, resting them on my neck. This way i can still hear the song playing and at the same time be concentrated on painting.

There's the last segment left to finish, before that it'll take two hours for the previous one to dry, three hours to draw the last one, plus two to dry.
That's a long process.