In which she falls victim for his exorbitant desires, his iniquitous tongue and his immoral ways. And him for the constellation in her eyes but the provocation in her lips.
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LAVINIA LOVES SLOW afternoons where they drive down the highway in the middle of nowhere for hours, when the orange and pink clouds disappear, when the moonlight dances wildly against the smooth asphalted pavement and the summer air weaves melancholic myths of their midnight rendezvous. She doesn't have to worry about being alone because he's right there with her.
She falls in love with days like that; days when the sun witnesses the calamity of two forlorn souls, it memorizes her felicity and it is enough for the earth to cry for the dainty cherub so it allows her days with him; the young god who is destined for damnation. Still, she is content with moonlit nights with him despite the warnings. She knows they don't see the grandeur and the splendor that comes with him.
But there are also darker days; days she hates more than thunderstorms and solitude. Days when she is afraid of the consequences of his nicotine mind and his cocaine hearts. He disappears for long periods of time and she is inflicted by the cruelty of his actions. Heated arguments and unsolicited violence that affects her delicate mind follow, all she thinks about is how he's going to leave her again. It's a harsh cycle, all because he does not believe in commitment.
Elias Montgomery is a fleeting idea, an evanescent dream—he has always been since the day she first laid her eyes on him. He has scars on his body, it is imprinted deeper than his dark writings. He laughs like a god, weeps like sinner and in a feverish rage he hurts the only person who ever cares for him.
The first time she finds his other solace, she tells him that she loves him. He's lying in a pool of coloured pills, drowning in the malicious ecstasy and his own undoing.
"I'll take it away, tell me where you're hurting," Her hearts aches at the sight of him and she kisses his eyes and caresses his being, her soothing touch is all he knows at that moment.
"I'm just tired," he takes her hands in his and kisses them, almost as if he's saying a prayer. "They help me," he says with a soft chuckle, the sound that rolls off his tongue is sweeter than saccharine.
"I'm sorry," he says and she does not miss the way he looks tired or the way his eyes are bloodshot. He doesn't look like a god anymore, there is a raw tenderness in his feverish eyes like catastrophe-like a tragedy waiting to unfold.
"You can't leave me," she cries into his chest and he hold her tight in his steady arms. "I won't." Is what she wants him to promise.
"I'm sorry," he says instead.
She knows he's never hers alone, but she rather be with him than lose him again.
-
She adores theway the sunlight seep in from the silk curtains and settles softly on his face when he stares at the blank canvas deeply in thought. He looks so tranquil, like he is at peace with the chaos in his mind. The sunlight seems to glitter his soft features—a contrasting visual from the bruised and bloodied one— his sensual full lips are stained light pink because of her, his dark hair falls effortlessly over his Olympian eyes and she admires his naked torso as he basks in the warmth and serenity of the moment.
She loves watching his hands move effortlessly across the white canvas, sometimes slowly, gently, sometimes swiftly, roughly—just like when he makes love to her—and when he's done, his thoughts come to life—just like how he makes her feel alive—it's equally transfixing, the artist and his art.
She lays in the bed, her hair spilling over the white sheets as she watches him. His lips curve into a smile when he catches a glimpse of her. It is quite the sight; her bare in his bed looking like a lost nymph. Her once unblemished skin now has traces of sinful kisses and this vision of her makes him wonder if she's his redemption.
"Elias," she says his name in a soft whisper, her voice honeyed but it leaves a melancholic aftertaste.
"Come here," he holds out his hand for her and her dainty hands fits in his scarred ones perfectly. He pulls her down to his lap gently, it's an action that makes her heart lurch forward and paint her cheeks with soft pink hues, the approaching summer heat doesn't have that much effect on her.
He hums softly in response, the sound melodically soothing to her ears. His touch has always and will always burn her skin with a exalting desire, a dazzling agony.
"I love you."
He puts his brush away and looks at her, the silk curtains flow at a rhythmic pace as the wind blows gently with the promise of another summer together. Her lips are slightly parted as he drops the white sheets that cover her body before kissing her. It is a slow kiss, steady and passionate just like her love for him.
"I know," he says as he smiles into their kiss. He's here with me. She believes she's content with that.
The days are getting shorter, the warm fluffy air and the smoldering daze is almost here. Another summer is approaching and he's here with her.
But their ruination is never far, the bittersweet delights are coming to a violent end.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A/n: who's ready for the upcoming summer romance? :)
