aesthetic

Chapter One

•••

- Harry -

It was a nice, sunny morning of August. The last month before fall. The birds quietly chirping outside the window as the sun shone through the thick, peach curtains.

Until I've realized,

it was Monday.

"Oh fuck," I whisper in realization, my hand slapping my forehead as I push the covers off of my body. I clamp my eyes closed. My head is fucking pounding.

A movement, a sound of the shuffling fabric beside me. A soft hiss from the girl beside me wakes me up. "Language, Harry."

And no, this isn't some girl I took home from a bar or something. This is actually my girlfriend; that's been in a relationship with me for three years now. And no, this is not where I enjoy this day because it's Summer. I'm unfortunately not in High School nor College anymore. I don't really have a job, but I own a studio downtown beside a small coffee shop that's practically stolen a recipe from Starbucks. It's an art studio, where I create, keep, and admire all of my sculptures and paintings. My uncle owns the studio, it used to be a hang out place for him and his mates. I work at that coffee shop, I'm the one making coffees based on recipes. I just want to take a rest for three years after eighteen fucking years of studying and reading rubbish textbooks and being bored out of your heard in some stuffed classroom. Art holds a strong passion within me, anyway. I'm enjoying my life before I work and get old. After all, I'm only twenty two. I've graduated College last year, and I'm taking all of the free time I could get.

"Harry?"

I blink, glancing to my left to acknowledge Madeline. I inhale the fresh air, swallowing with my dry throat. "Yeah?" I say, half of her clothed body exposed as the plain white covers stopped to her hips. She's so beautiful. I mean, look at her.

I'm the luckiest guy alive.

"Do you want waffles or bacon?" She asks, already up on her feet. I blink once more to clear my blurry vision. I smile, and close my eyes at the thought. She always made breakfast for the both of us. And I've always liked watching her cook. She seems so focused when she cooks. It amuses me.

I exhale, stretching my arms and legs under the duvet. "You can do both if you love me," I groaned out of the stretch, feeling relaxed and contented. She was wearing her sweater that hugged her curves and stopped on her mid thigh. Her brunette hair fell down to her shoulders, her sight alone makes me sigh in admiration. God, she's so pretty.

She cheekily smiles, turning around as she walked towards the door. "You better fix the bed while I'm cooking, Styles." I heard once she was outside, her voice echoing. I chuckle, slightly sitting up, letting my arm support my weight as I divert my gaze to the digital clock on the night stand.

7:43 am, it said. My job starts at 9:30 am until 6:00 pm. I don't do much in the studio, really. Which is relaxing, since I get to think there too, listening to my music on full blast while I paint or sculpt. Madeline thinks I should get a real job, considering that her parents hate me because she's a high class model while I'm just an artist who works at a cliché coffee shop. I usually go to my studio after work, it's been my routine every weekdays. On weekends, I'd just take a rest here in my house and sketch here and there.

I fully sit up, rubbing my bare torso with my hands. I clear my throat and try to remember how I slept last night. Only now have I remembered that I had a dream.

It's the same dream. Same place. Same feeling. It always felt real. It was always the same person. The same person that's grown familiar to me.
And in my dreams, it was always located at the Midway Park. It confused me to no end. The Midway Park, which was also downtown, is now replaced by a mall. It's not big of a mall, it's just filled with fast food chains and café's. It's odd, how my dreams always occurs on that exact area. How it's always her that's in my head. And the weirdest thing is,

I don't even know who she is,
I haven't seen her in my entire life.

I groan, my head hurting again. I decide to get up, and fix the bed. I need a fucking aspirin, I thought. I smell the familiar aroma of the bacon, a smile making its way to my chapped lips, causing me to swipe my tongue over it, my hair tickling my bare shoulder and the nape of my neck. I take one of her hair ties, and gathered my hair together into a bun. It's weird, but I liked my hair longer when it's longer.

I mean, it's not as curly as it was during my High School days, and not messy as it was during my College ones. The longer it is, the less itchy and curly it gets. It's gets curly on the tips, but the roots and halfway down isn't.

I try to remember half of my dream, but my head keeps aching. I close my eyes briefly as I walk downstairs to the kitchen. My house is a two story house, not really much. The walls are painted in creamy white, the colorful abstract paintings (that I've made myself) that's been hanging up on the walls added life to my house. It's just simple, yet elegant. I liked it.

•••

It wasn't much of a long day, but God, do time flies so slow. There weren't customers left, so I've decided to close the café up. I'm always the one to leave the last, considering that I make free coffees for myself when I'm all alone. It's not allowed, but hey, the store wouldn't be a hit if it weren't for my charming face.

I feel my vibrating phone inside the back pocket of my pants. I grab the large lock from the cabinet and took my phone out from my pocket, two keys dangling on my neck hanging like a necklace. The owner, which turned out to be a nice old lady, trusted me with her store. I was honoured, of course, knowing that I've been only working here for five months.

I see the name of my girlfriend flashing through the screen, and my lips expands, curving up as I answered. The warm coffee cup on my unoccupied hand. "Madeline, how nice of you to call." I spoke, my voice teasing. She doesn't laugh, my smile falters slightly.

She sighs, stress apparent to her voice. "I'm still at work," she says, and I flick the lights off before pushing the door. "I can't go home for four days, the stylist screwed up big time. He had bikinis stored in the wardrobe instead of dresses. God, I hate this." She sighs again. She's not one to curse, even at the most stressful times. I frown, already outside, locking the lock around the handles of the door along with the chains embracing around it.

I clear my throat before speaking, "It's alright. We can see each other on Friday night, and I'll take you out for dinner." I tell her, attempting to cheer her up. I fail once she groans. What now?

"That's the thing." she began, "I forgot to tell you that my sister along with my parents needs me for the weekends, they're having some grand dinner with the ones associated with me for the runway." She says, sounding like she was about to cry. She had just came home three days ago, and now she's gone for a week again. I purse my lips together as I walk towards my studio. It's a box shaped building, painted in grey. It has no bricked roof, or any of that. It was just a platform. It would seem like a large garage, if it wasn't for the red door on the left side of the area and the windows with it.

I sigh, staring up the sky as I stood in front of my studio. "It's okay. There's always a next week." I say to her, my voice reassuring. "You have to do this, it's your dream. Don't let someone like me get in the way. We've talked about this before, we always see each other." I admire the sun-like Orange sky. Like the sun itself exploded and its colour radiated all over the sky along with the clouds. A faint smile graced my lips at the sight, my arm aching a bit for holding the phone too long to my ear.

"I love you, I'll see you soon okay? I'll call you." She told me, and I nod, realizing that she couldn't see me. I frown at the thought once more.

"I love you too, I'll make sure to answer." I teasingly remarked, a grin now plastered on my face. She giggles, and I hang up, laughing to myself too.

I take the loose necklace off around my neck, holding the medium bronze key as I unlock the round doorknob with the same colour, my phone on my left hand and the small coffee cup hanging on my lips, my teeth biting the lid as I turn the key around inside the lock successfully. I hold the doorknob and twist it with my hand, pushing it open. I close the door behind me with my foot.

And the light shone through the windows, finished paintings were hanging up the walls, and the unfinished ones were siting on the stands. Bottle of paints resting on top of the silver metallic table that's also been stained with different varieties of paint. My paintbrushes were there too, some were on the floor. There were paint on the floor too, and I admired it. I admired the mess. It's beautiful to me.

But not as beautiful as the girl in my paintings.

You'd think that it's Madeline that's marked on my works, but it's the girl inside my dreams. I wanted to remember her, just in case I forget her face. I tend to, since dreams were blurry to me. It took me two weeks to sketch a complete portrait of her face. I had to remember every structure and every detail of her face. And days, months, years passed, I'm able to sketch her with her full body. In my dreams, she always wore floral dresses and the same baby pink doll shoes. Her clothing changes every dream I have of her, but her shoes remains the same. It fascinates me.

I lie down on the half ripped black leather sofa, inhaling the strong scent of acrylic and poster paint. I liked the smell, even though Madeline always coughed whenever she smells one of those. She never went here before, and I prefer her not to, knowing that most of my paintings and works is the girl I'm seeing in my dreams.

I close my eyes, enjoying the silence. I wasn't really tired, but I didn't get much sleep last night. It's so, so weird the first couple of times I dreamed about her, which had started the first year of College. I never had any other dreams, except for her. And it freaked the shit out of me. I considered going to a psychologist, but decided against it once I got used to it.

She was no nightmare.

I open my eyes, and I'm back to the park. It's always the same as I remembered it; daylight like it was 8 in the morning, bright like it's going to be a fantastic day. I was either standing, or sitting on the bench.

Today, I'm sitting on one of the swings hanging on top of the Willow trees, wearing the same clothes I had when I've fallen asleep. It used to be odd; not seeing anyone other than myself and her. Now, I've just grown used to it.

And with a glance, there she was, lying down on the grass with her back against the trunk of the tree. Only a few meters away from where I was seated. She was staring at the sky, her arms raised and her hands behind her head, looking completely relaxed. Her eyes held of admiration and wonder, always flashing with passion whenever she looks at something she loved.

And a soft smile made its way to her full, red lips. Her brown wavy hair resting on her shoulders, her white dress with black roses printed on it catching my attention. Her shoes still the same, her feet occasionally wiggling. That's when I've realized that she was already looking at me.

It's strange, how someone that never existed could look like they had more life than you ever did. She was never pale, she was never sad, she was never anything that involved negativity.

She is a dream.

She stands up, brushing the dirt off of her back and turned to me. "Miss me?" She playfully cocks her brows, grinning like a girl who won an argument with her sister. Not that she has a sister. It was only us here.

I answer a beat late, my teeth biting the insides of my cheeks to stifle a smile. "Now why would I miss you?" I retort, still looking at her with amusement flaring in her bright, Sky blue eyes.

She sits down beside me, not letting me scoot, causing me to laugh. "Because, you went to sleep thinking about me." She proudly stated, her chin raised with assurance. I jokingly roll my eyes at her, the contented smile never faltering once. It's still strange, how she could know the things I did in reality. But then again, she was just a figment of my imagination. Or was she?

I laugh with humour, shaking my head. "Don't flatter yourself,"

"Oh, you'll see." She taunted, her left thigh on top of my right, almost seated on my lap. I take in the moment to take in the sweet scent she always had. She smelt like bubblegum, even her hair alone.

"I always see, you never leave me alone." I tell her, raising an eyebrow once she faces me. Her face held an expression of challenge and taunt. I smirk at her, feeling empowered.

"I believe that you only leave someone behind when they're better off without you," she suddenly says, looking to the beautiful environment in front of us. It always seemed like it was spring, but I didn't mind.

"How would you know that they're better off without you?" I ask, closing my eyes as I feel the fresh breeze, listening to the leaves clashing together and the birds chirping from afar.

"When the person disappears, and you're too happy to notice, that's the moment you know that someone is better off without someone." She says, the words leaving her mouth like poetry.

And I wake up.