ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪɴᴇ // 𝐦𝐠𝐜 - 𝐚𝐟𝐢

CIGARETTE 2

CIGARETTE 2

There's still no sun. It's covered by all the heavy grey clouds, those kind of clouds that means a warning.

The morning is cold and the fresh air hits my face as I walk down the street.

My hands touch the cool glass door and push it open. My body is engulfed in the warm air of the coffee shop and the strong smell of coffee hits my nostrils.

I order my black coffee, receiving it in a paper cup. The cup warms my hands as it always does.

I take small sips from the hot drink as I walk to the university campus.

Ashton didn't sleep home last night. He probably didn't bother to go back and went straight to university.

While he was away, partying with his maori friend, I was laying on our bed, his side colder than ever as the moonlight illuminated the room softly.

I couldn't stop thinking of him. Thinking about how much I love him, about the way his eyes light up every time he takes a good photo or how his lips curl up into a smile when he see something worth a picture.

I remember this time, two months after we started dating, we were just wandering around the Bronx and he started taking photos of me.

I asked him why wouldn't he stop taking pictures of me. The smile on his lips never faded as he replied: 'because you're the most beautiful and interesting thing in the world. That's what is worth to take photos of.'

I never forgot those words until now and it has been two years.

Two years since I've got him. I'm so lucky to have him, I don't even know how I got such precious thing in my life.

I just love him so much.

The coffee shop is only fifteen minutes away from the campus, so I don't even bother to take a bus.

When I arrive, there's no more coffee on the paper cup and I throw it in a trash bin. I don't get inside just yet, I decide to sit by the fountain of Washington Square Park, the park in the middle of New York University Campus.

I light up a cigarette and look around. Everything is black and white. It's pretty.

The cigarette burns slowly as I take deep drags and when it finally comes to an end, I dump it on the pavement. Stepping on it, I walk to my first class.

♪♪♪

The day passed by, slipping through my fingers without me knowing.

When I find myself, I'm already at the coffee shop ordering the afternoon black coffee.

As I walk to my usual seat by the window, I notice a purple-haired boy at the back of the coffee shop, sat on a table. A sketchbook placed on the wooden round table along with a watercolor palette and a water-pencil in his hand. His gaze is focused on his painting, his hand moving so smoothly through the paper as he takes occasional sips from his coffee paper cup.

The sight is lovely. I can feel the love in his strokes from here, making me wonder what he's painting.

I sit down, placing the cup on the table. I decide to get some work done while I'm here because I know I'll probably won't have time or mood to do it while I'm home.