Inside the Studio

My eyes squirt when the morning rays hit me from the window across the room. I yawned and stretched my legs. In the process, I hit them on the bed frame.

Mom must have come to the room. I assumed that the curtains were raised up, and my hoodie, which I placed on the chair, was hung on my now-closed cupboard.

I lift my body up while roughly up to my bed sheet. I took my phone from the table close to my bedside.

I saw all the messages Axel sent me last week, but I still have not replied.

I was less angry than I had been that day, but still, I wondered if I could talk to him.

Axel had been the only one who knew how parties affected me, and maybe that is why I am avoiding him because he was the only one who knew that anxious side.

Everywhere was silent except for the sounds of plates downstairs. The sun shined brighter than it usually does. I knew it was Sunday before I checked the time.

I had no work or school; it was the perfect time to go to the studio. I placed my legs on the cold floor and went straight to the bathroom.

When I was done, I rubbed my head on the mat and took my towel to clean my hair. I dropped the towel on my bed and moved to the cupboard facing my bed. Just a simple shirt and hoodie, and I was set. I took the towel from the bed when I noticed a tiny droplet of water stain my peach hoodie.

I left my room to climb down the stairs while cleaning my hair. Each step I took made a creaking sound. Halfway down, I was hit with the savor smell of pastries.

I jumped two steps to make my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a biscuit from the bowl before my mom turned to scrunch at me.

"your father took half of it before I was done cooking."

"maybe he should stop working with his stomach and actually start working," I talked with my mouth filled with biscuits.

"Avery!!"

I gave a what face. I grab some more biscuits before I leave the house. I strolled to the studio, enjoying the view of empty roads and wavy trees.

I loved the studio because it was close to home, but it was especially hard to spot. I took a corner into someone's house and broke out on another street. It was a short route I always use.

I took the keys and opened the studio door.

It was very dark.

The curtains were not drawn. The air was congested, and the smell of dust lingered. I turned on the switch that was close to the door.

Each artwork was arranged in order of painting, drawing, and glasswork. The studio itself was not spacious, but a sofa was close to the window. I removed my shoes and climbed the sofa to raise the curtain up. It had only one window.

I stretched further to open the window, which I always close before I leave. I jumped from the sofa and moved to where I kept my supplies. They were at the side of the drawing sections.

I bring them to the center of the room. I moved to get a canvas and placed it at the center, close to my art supply. I sit down with my legs crossed as I watch the sun hit the canvas. I wondered what I wanted to create today.

I got side-tracked for a while, using my pen to draw a flying butterfly on my ankle. I drew dots that represented sprinkles as they flew. I put my pen down and began my work. I paused when I heard the sound of the door sliding.

I twisted to see Axel here in my studio.

"What are you doing here? How did you know this place?"

"You showed me this place, remember," Axel said. His eyes roamed about the place before sliding the door back to lock it.

Axel came to sit beside me, crossing his legs as I had. His black shirt clings to his chest, and his cologne now fills the air like the smell of raspberry. He assesses my work. I continued working on my art.

For a time, I forgot he was around.

"Why broken glasses?" he finally spoke.

I withdrew from my work. The sun reflected on the glass. It almost looked like shining diamonds. I moaned from the sound of my back cracking as I stretched.

"Broken glasses are beautiful. Maybe that's why broken people are the most beautiful."

I trailed my finger with my work.

"each crack has its own story to tell. Each separated piece wants to return to where they belong."

"I am sorry for what happened last week," he derailed from our conversation. My eyes pulled away from my work to his amber eyes.

I wondered what shades of colors I had to mix to get the perfect color.

"Why are you here? College students must have a lot of free time for you to come all the way here," he guzzled.

"You didn't answer my messages," he stated.

"For a valid reason."

His finger stroked the art on my ankle.

"You like tattoos," again he derailed from the conversation.

I drew away from his touch, covering the drawing with my hand. Then, I stopped crossing my legs. Instead, I simply used my right knee as a resting stone for my head.

"Maybe__ it's just something I always wanted to do with Cleo, but she hates tattoos."

"What kind do you want?"

Even though we were the only ones in the studios, we still quietly talked.

"I don't know. I haven't figured that out yet," I said as I looked at the drawing on my skin.

"I just randomly draw whatever comes to my mind," I finished talking.

"Then snap anyone you draw on your skin. One day we will choose the coolest ones."

I snuffed. Axel used his fingers to pull my face up. His eyes held so much intensity I tried to remove my gaze from him, but he stopped me.

Forcing me to graze at him. Axel leaned in closer to me. He licks his lips the moment he catches me staring at it.

He drew closer till we were sharing the same breath. I gulped.

"Are we never going to talk about that night? The night we slept together?"

I jolt from him. A time along with him that I would like to forget.

"No, I want to forget everything that happened, including that night."

I pushed him away and collected my unfinished canvas. I told myself I would complete it another day. I took one look at him, and I saw he was hurt.

This was a chapter I would like to close.