Energizer

prologue / one

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Just an obvious sidenote, Ari is a boy in this story. It is not short for anything. It is pronounced "Are-ee".
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Staring at a canvas, Ari took this opportunity to drink another shot of vodka. If painting didn't relieve his stress, alcohol did. I guess we all have our ways of dealing. Dealing with stress, that is.

3:41 AM. Ari faced a large open window, overlooking a small yard. A big vessel to view with little scenery to appreciate. His canvas was propped in front of him on an easel, varied colors of paint to his right and a bottle of vodka to his left. He always had a knack for art, even when he was a little boy. His father would buy him cars, trucks, fishing poles, and fake guns but none of that made the cut.
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"Dad, I want an easel." Ari whined, tilting his head upwards to fully see his father. His father did nothing but grunt and groan, as the topic brought out an argument. He ignored his son's question.

"So what if the boy wants to draw, Kevin, I'm going to let the boy draw. He's 9 years old," Ari's mother defended him.

"My son is not going to be a fag, Janet," Kevin raised his voice as the sentence spilled from his lips.

She looked at him, wondering why in all of history drawing would make their son a fag. You can't make someone "a fag," she thought.
--
Ari dropped his paintbrush, and made his wobbly way over to the window where he pulled the curtains closed. Soon after, he crashed onto his bed, curling into the warm embrace of blankets. With a half finished painting, that's all he remembers from the night.
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"So, Ari, you're telling me that this is all you've finished so far?" Elana glanced over at the sloppily drawn, half colored canvas.

"I guess, I-I- I think that's all I did. Yes, that's all I did. If I did more, it would be there," Ari's voice slowly turned irritated, his small stutter inevitable given his hungover circumstances. He sat up in bed, his blankets twisted and turned around his body. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than a blur. "Hey, how did you get in here, anyway?"

"You idiot, the door was unlocked. I wanted to drop off some fruit salad I made earlier, because I know that's your favorite. I rang the doorbell three times an--," Elana tilted her head slightly, her best friend spread out, asleep once again.

"Oh, ha, okay then. The fruit salad is in the fridge, if you're, uh, wondering."

Hesitating to leave, Elana examined the room. Easel, vodka, bed, window, chair, dresser, mirror, pile of dirty clothes, empty plastic laundry hamper, bedside table with condoms and advil inside, a clock, and door. By the time she finished, she had made a perfect 360 circle. "Gee, I guess the vodka explains a lot," Elana giggled quietly, slowly starting to saunter out of her friends bedroom. Just as the living room and front door approached, she heard his voice.

"E-E-ELAAAAANAAAAA!"

"What? Ari?" Elana turned around, walking back to the room, peeking inside.

"You mean, you just walked inside my house without my permission? Is that what you're sayin'? Is that what you're sayin', Elana?" Ari was once again sitting up, his eyes half closed and his face confused.

"Uh, yeah, sort of. I've known you forever," Elana rolled her eyes, leaning against the door frame.

"Ok, Elana. What time is it?" Ari rubbed his eyes again, gravitating back towards the mattress.

"It's 10:04 AM. You should probably rest for a little longer, if you know what's best for you," Elana giggled at the beat up sight of her friend. "You look half dead, run over, bed heade--"

"Elana, stop it, I look beautiful." Ari half smiled, his eyes opening just a bit wider as his fingers trailed through his red hair. Artifical red hair — only he would wish he was born a ginger.