Childhood sweetheart turning to enemies and then to lovers.
Ethan and Amelia got separated 8 years back , and now that they've met again, the bond is not the same as it used to be .
Only thing that's between them is fury , fire and aggression. The t...
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The canvas in front of me shines under the moonlight coming from the wide window of the room. Though I want to paint something to relieve the stress and tension built in my temple. But I just can't focus . I can't think of anything else than my permanent muse. My very own childhood sweetheart. The brush in my hand feels so heavy , the moonlight fills the room and I just give up. I place the brush back to the palette and sink into the couch at the corner of the room.
This room is the only corner in this whole mansion that feels like me. That still has the existence of me. I stare at the painting on the front wall. It's an old painting, the one I made a few years back. After playing my first game internationally , There were so many emotions that delved into me that day , but looking around... I had no-one to share it with. And the only thing that got me busy was colors , and art. After basketball if there's something that helps me to keep up with my emotions, then that is painting.
The gray in her eyes is so deep that I can't help but stare at the painting for more than a while I want to admit. It's her again. Only this room and my canvases know how hard it is to take her off my mind.
She has beautiful brown hair reaching down to her waist. It's amusing that she still, even now after 8 years, has managed to maintain the almost exactly same length of hair , her hair smells addictive. The fragrance I would love to have around me. But why would I be around her? Sometimes when I sit in this room , a thought always crosses my mind. What if we never got separated, what if we were still together. It would all have been so different , so amusing and so... beautiful.
But it's not. There's no softness, there's just thorns. I scoff at the fact that I even tried to think that I deserve to have something beautiful, like her , her. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve her. I look at her portrait again , why is she so beautiful, why does my heart still skip a beat when I look at her.
I close my eyes again searching for the answer to my questions.
No answer.
It's just her, everywhere.
I wanted her to be my date , and I don't even know why , but for now in my defense I can just say that it was because this event meant so much to me. And I didn't want to spoil it with someone who I barely knew, I know that I don't know her totally, but I know her enough and that's all that matters.
Just a deal. Just a mere deal nothing else.. The portrait in front of me is from her teen years, and I can't help but recall our teen days. ALWAYS was a dream at that time and now it's a joke.
FLASHBACk*
I was cycling back from practice, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief. My teammates had already left, but I stayed back to work on a few extra drills. We had a big game coming up, and I wanted to be in top form. As I pedaled through the streets, the cool evening breeze hit my face, making me feel a bit more at ease.
