ataraxia, lorenzo berkshire

"forty five"

When Lorenzo arose from his slumber, it was well into the afternoon.

His sleep schedule had become royally fucked up since he decided to withdraw socially, attempting to prioritise his studies - which he'd never done before - proving that he was awful at it.

His grades remained at an average rate, a little disappointing seeing he'd cooped himself up in his dormitory for weeks, making sure to only be there after his roommates left.

Otherwise he'd be staying in Saskia's dorm.

He hadn't smoked in days, nor touched any alcohol - sex, however..

A man has to cope somehow, right?
A familiar coping mechanism that had practically been taught to him as soon as he hit double digits of age.

Against his will.
- But he learnt to accept it, to use it to his advantage - to regain the power he was prematurely stripped of.

Sex with Saskia was.. good.

It definitely could be better, but it wasn't bad.
It was fine, she was fine.

Nothing he hadn't experienced before, though.

It just felt like trying to open a cupboard that had no handles, you know?

You try to find a way to unleash whatever's.. inside, but even though you claw at the openings, it proves difficult.

In other words, he hadn't orgasmed in weeks.
No matter how hard he tried to fuck it out.

"Enzo, Baby?" Saskia peered out of his dorm's bathroom doorframe, a beige towel securely wrapped around her head, "Did you know I went to swatch my wedding gown colours today?,"

He hummed, uninterested.

He was shirtless - leant against the headboard, glasses rested, tilted only slightly to the left, - brown hair left ruffled, unkempt as per.

In his lap sat a tattered book.

With only a quarter of its amber-tinged pages read, having Saskia natter to him about her extortionately-priced wedding dress all morning was setting him back from studying.

One step farther from a fulfilling future.
Recently, all Lorenzo has been feeling were steps back.

Steps back from friends, from socialising, from eating, from classes, from Val.

Fucking Val.
Literally, and figuratively.
It's all that's been on his mind.

- That was the only thing he didn't mind eroding his headspace, although, a part of him yearned desperately to loathe it. To loathe her.

But to loathe an innocent girl is cruel, and disobliging.

Especially when you love her.

He doesn't love her.
He's young and delusional.

Aren't we all?

He loves her.

He doesn't know what he wants.
If he wanted her, he'd be sure of it by now.

Only the heart knows what it wants, and he's been too preoccupied with adhering to everyone else's expectations of him, now as a future husband and father, he hasn't had enough time to think about himself and what he wants.

Why would he want anything more when he already has an attractive fiancée, financial stability, and what's supposed to be the most stressful era of your life preplanned for him?