art show // zjm

-2

entry #1

violet sat, chewing her pen in frustration as she stared at the paper filled with crossed out words. her gaze kept flitting back from her page to the boy sitting by the broken fountain. and god, what synonym could possibly describe such a vision like his?

violet mental-fived herself on that one and wrote it down on her page, putting little stars beside it as a reminder. she sighed, taking a sip of her tea and watching pretty boy's hand flit here and there across the page. he's probably an artist, but he could be a terrible artist. he should be terrible at something, as he seems perfect in every other aspect in violet's eyes.

but who am i kidding, violet thinks. beauty like his could never produce anything terrible.

ugh. violet doesn't even know his name and she's already smitten with him. this is a whole new low for her.

she's doodling little hearts at the edge of her journal, oblivious to the world around her. how could a boy as beautiful as him possibly try to create beauty when there is already enough beauty in the world with him alone?

oh. oh.

there's her arc de triumphe moment. she feels like there's a lightbulb above her head as she scribbles words down, her foot tapping in anticipation. adrenaline starts pumping through her veins and violet know this could be good. this could be fucking good.

violet's muttering under her breath, pondering if duplicacy is an actual word or not when she hears someone in front of her clear their throat.

she really wants to tell whoever it is to fuck off, are they blind or something because she's obviously writing the second coming of 50 shades of grey (but with no sex because. well. no.) but instead chooses to bite her tongue and keep quiet. the last time she screamed at a stranger it was a little kid and he ran crying to his mom. she had to endure a 40 year old woman screaming for a good ten minutes in her face.

oh well. maybe the stranger will leave if she keeps quiet and doesn't look up.

the stranger clears their throat again - louder this time - and mutters a friendly excuse me that makes violet sigh and jerk her head up, mouth ready to tell this man to sod off when she takes one look at him and her mouth is left hanging open. literally hanging open. like an idiot.

because it's him. it's pretty boy who lookes even prettier up close with sharp cheekbones and angular jawlines, with beautiful muddy brown eyes and messy scruff littering his face. but not littering in the sense that it's messy and dirty, but more like in the sense that it looks perfect in a dissaray way.

"um, you were just muttering with yourself and i wanted to check if you haven't gone crazy. shit, that came out rude. you don't look crazy at all - actually you look quite beautiful. fuck, i didn't mean that to come out. uh- i'm zayn?" zayn states as a question, and violet feels a giggle bubble up from her chest because he's a jumbled up shy mess. a beautiful jumbled up shy mess.

violet quickly covers her mouth, eyebrows drawn up because she didn't mean to giggle. so, she proceeds to state her name and zayn asks if the seat next to her is occupied. it isn't and zayn takes a seat.

there's a silence as violet scratches the last few words onto her page and shuts her notebook and stuffs it in her bag, taking a side glance at zayn who seems to be fiddling with the pages of his noteboook.

"i saw you looking at me before." zayn blurts out, and violet feels her face heat up. way to go for subtle, vi.

"oh my god that is so embarassing, i sound like such a stalker. sorry." violet adds, burying her head in her hands.

zayn laughs quietly, "it's alright," he softly mutters. "if it makes you feel better, i'm as much of a stalker towards you as you are towards me."

violet's face heats up, realizing that he meant that he's been staring at her too. "you flirt weirdly. it's quite endearing, really."

now it's zayn's turn to blush, but he ducks his head to the side in an attempt to hide it. it's a futile attempt, as violet catches him and thinks goddammit, i'm so whipped already.

but what she doesn't know, as he shyly asks her to move their conversation to a nicer cafe not far from campus, is that zayn's just as fallen as she is. and that tucked in his notebook, was a quick sketch of her with her eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused, in which he's been working on since she's sat down on the bench.

and what he doesn't know, is that the poem she wrote about him was the first of many more yet to come.

dec 13 2014, entry #1

honey, don't you see? / how could you possibly attempt to create art / when you are the most beautiful piece of art i've ever seen / and duplicacy is near impossible in the presence of perfection

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hellooo it me aida & i'm quite excited for this and dont worry friends its gonna get a hell lotta depressing real soon the description is no lie

tell me all your thoughts about this down below!! comment & vote, it's much appreciated !!

adios hope u like it

lower case intended.