Vanilla & Smoke || A.I.

Ink.

Ink
/ingk/
noun
1. a fluid or viscous substance used for writing or printing.
2. a dark, protective fluid ejected by the cuttlefish and other cephalopods.

~~~

Finally out of the constraining mandatory school uniform, it was clear to see that Thora was beginning to feel more like herself again. Dressed in all black without a trace of color, she slung her small backpack over her shoulder and snuck out of her bedroom window. Her room was on the second floor, but part of the main floor was larger, meaning she was able to jump down from her roof to the smaller one and then climb to the ground.

Calum was waiting outside already. He was a lot of things- rude, arrogant, an ass, but at least he was punctual.

His music was blaring, All Time Low screaming through the speakers, the entire car almost shaking with the sound of the bass. Thora climbed in, and he hit the accelerator before her door was even halfway closed.

Thora was desperate for something to relieve the stress, and Calum needed a high- whether it was from drugs, adrenaline, or anything in between.

As Calum swung around the corners dangerously, Thora couldn't help but feel her entire body relax. This is where she was meant to be- in a dangerous car, with a dangerous boy, doing dangerous things. She wasn't a little angel, she wasn't an innocent little girl, she was Thora, named for thunder and power.

Maybe Mr.Irwin didn't get that. Maybe he thought she was some sort of problem child, or an angel with her halo crooked. Fine. He was her teacher- blind or not, he didn't matter, not to her. It wasn't the first time someone thought she was something she wasn't. She didn't care.
Calum pulled onto a busy street, the headlights of passing cars blinding as he swerved, dodging in between cars with impressive grace, despite being generally shit at driving. The truth was, he wasn't shit at driving- he was shit at driving slow. He was shit at driving safe.

Once they were far enough away to be in more of the city area, the misic was turned off and Calum pulled the car aside into an alley, stopping abruptly. They were as silent as ballerinas as they quickly ducked out of the car, Thora with her black bag in tow.

No words were exchanged as they navigated the maze of alleyways and tunnels, searching for a spot, the spot.
They found it in a tunnel under the road, the sounds of cars driving over it making the entire structure hum with energy.

"This is it," Calum said, the smallest of smiles creeping up on his face as he stared at the concrete walls, his voice echoing lightly. "Our canvas."

"My canvas," Thora teased, her powder blue eyes like marbles. "You're a shit painter."

"Such a pessimist," he grumbled, taking the bag off her back and digging through it. "I could be the guy who painted the Mona Lisa and I'd still not be good enough."

"Well look what the cat dragged in," said a new voice, gruff and husky like the feeling of campfire smoke down your throat.

Calum grinned, his eyes illuminated in the dim light refracting of the pale walls. "Surprise seeing you here, kitten. I thought you only put paint in your hair."

"I'll put it down your throat if you keep being an ass."

"I'd say the same about you, except I have better things that could go down your throat."

For a virgin, he certainly wasn't shy. It seemed like Calum had finally found someone worthy of his dick.

With a little smile at his failed flirting attempted, Thora pulled out a bottle of dark blue spraypaint and shook it, surveying the blank cement, her canvas. In the background the boys were passing comments back and forth, an abnormal mixture of insults, banter, and flirting. All 'my dick is bigger than yours' 'wanna prove it' 'you know I do', etc, etc. In all honesty, it was getting annoying.