ella
he stayed until midnight, we spent the last 7 hours recreating all of the paintings i collected, writing silly poems and dancing to the sound of mr. sinatra. there was something about the way he was, simple but beyond elegant. the way his glasses sat loosely on the edge of his nose, his green eyes shining with laughter at my attempt of being funny. a complete stranger to me, yet suddenly a new found lover.
the last hour that he had stayed, we sat underneath a fort made of blankets and sheets, its place setting a perfect view towards the massive window hanging before it. our feet were tangled between one another, my head on his chest and my hand delicately resting over his heart, the light bumps soothing any feeling of frustration.
i've come to the realization, from now being anything but 1 inch apart from him, he always smells like pennies. which is comforting in the sense that it reminds me of my dad, he too always smelled like pennies, pennies and honey. a feeling of homesickness starts spiraling within me.
wynn
you can always tell when she's thinking, her nose scrunches up a tiny bit and her brows begin to furrow. she looks upset, which is what i had thought at first, but after a couple moments of watching her in this mode soon after she shakes it off and comes back with a smile on her face.
this happens a lot, quite often actually. i've always wanted to know what she thinks about, was her day okay? how's her family? was there another problematic article she read today? or was it none of the above and she's simply thinking about the future? there are so many questions i have for ella, that i'm beyond grateful to only be 22 and have close to an infinite amount of time dedicated to being with her.
right now, in this exact moment, is when i knew i had fallen in love, real love. we lay underneath an attempted fort, facing towards her window. the pattering noise of new york rain drizzled down the glass frame. it was all so beautiful. i was completely overwhelmed with the feelings of never wanting to leave her and wanting to know how her mind worked. ella had grown tired and placed her head on my chest, cuddling up to me sweetly. i see her nose scrunch up, and i knew she was having another moment.
"what are you thinking about, ella?" i ask
she shuffles around for a second, breathing out, her finger tapping lightly on my chest, "i was thinking about how you have a similar smell to my dad, as odd as that sounds. kind of makes me realize how much i miss my family back home. my parents moved back to oklahoma when i found a place of my own," her face saddens, "what smell?" i wonder.
ella gives a sly smirk, "you smell a lot like pennies, and honey."
"pennies and honey? that's a little odd," i laugh
the conversation grows thin and it's quiet for a couple minutes, "what's your dad like?" i ask. "he's my best friend. my dad and i've been through a lot, he was tough on me growing up, not necessarily in a way that pushed me out more so a structured way. sometimes it made me want to just runaway, it got out of hand here and there, but i managed. i've done some stupid shit, but in the end it's always something to learn from. you learn and you move on.
he always wore various blue colored plaid, blue plaid shorts, blue plaid button ups, blue plaid jackets, it was always funny to see him pick out outfits because you already knew what he was reaching for. his clothes always had a familiar smell, as well as his hands. everything smelled like pennies with him, my theory was that he routinely bathed in them. now of course it's probably because he had pennies everywhere he went, to the laundromat, in his pockets, they lingered everywhere in our car even. he always wanted the best for me, and i put in as much effort as I could to make him proud, and he was, he is," she wipes a tear that hung from her flushed cheeks, "i'm sorry, i just miss him, everyone in fact, it's been awhile."
ella
"no need to apologize, i understand completely," wynn says, pulling me closer.
"what was your dad like?" i ask, knowing that i've taken in all the air from rambling so much.
wynn's face grows a little cold, knowing that i've hit a soft spot i quickly say, "if you'd rather not spea-"
"it's okay, really." he assures me and continues, "there's only so much history between my dad and i, then it all evaporated. he passed away when i was 11, terminal cancer." the last few words rolls off wynns tongue slowly, as if even now he can't believe the horrific thought of it. "it all happened so fast, too fast. i was never really around him when he was going through the tough parts of it all, you know, when he was looking really terrible. he usually stayed in one bedroom, he never moved and it was all just, so strange. he was known to be blissfully ecstatic and he passed away with such paleness and discomfort."
wynn held his head in the palm of his hands, "you know, maybe we can save this story for another time, yeah?" i nod my head and wrap my arms around him, his head laying on my shoulder. there we sat, a bundle of temporary sadness. the only comforting sound was the rain outside and the soft sound of la vie en rose. he lifts his head off my shoulder looking up and smiling at me weakly, i respond with a light smile and he wipes my teary eyes, the rough palm of his hand holding my cheek softly.
he leans in and gives me a sweet kiss, the kind that doesn't last forever but leaves a mark of wonder on my lips. pulling back, i can see the tops of his cheeks blushing madly, i let out a laugh and give him a kiss on the cheek.
we end up falling asleep inside the fort, our hands tangled together loosely, the strong smell of rain coming through the window fills the apartment from head to toe. i peek a glance at wynn and admire him in this sleepy state, all of my worries fade away and i am left with nothing but complete and utter bliss. words begin to form in my head and a sense of urgency rushes through me, i gently move myself from wynn and head towards the room holding the canvas he loves so much. grabbing my beat up journal filled with an array of thoughts, i sit near the window and open up to a blank page and form a new one, this time, a special message.
my sincerest thank you to the coffee shop down the street, you were too kind to give me such a sweet gift, i don't know how i could ever repay you.
yours truly,
the girl who sometimes asks for a cold chai.
i put the journal away and head back to wynn, my heart beating from a new found excitement for the future of him and i.
/n: hello i hope you like this chapter, i worked especially hard on it since this story deserves a great big update :-) let me know what you think in the comments, all your lovely words so far have given me a lot of courage to keep writing, i'm sorry it's been so long, i plan on updating this as much as i can. oh and i might create a playlist for la colombe, let me know if that's something you may be interested in? - bay
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la colombe (re-editing)
Teen Fiction"darling, you are art, most importantly, you are my art."
