Nine Lives

Nine Days

"That was...incredible" Blake had his breathing under control now, after five minutes of non-stop huffing and puffing from both of us. "That was something i'll never forget."

I threw my hands over my face, cowering behind myself. "Embarrassment is only just starting to seep in."

"Oh, don't be embarrassed! That was beyond great." He was obviously trying to comfort me here, but the red still rose to my cheeks.

"Never speak of this...to anyone!" Not that he knew anybody I knew...not that I knew of anyway.

"I'll take it to my grave." He promised, turning his head to look at my glowing cheeks.

We sat in silence for a moment too long...the street lights subtle flicker casting ghosts over the sides of the car. "Blake..."

He sat his head upon his elbow as he let his hip withhold the rest of his weight. "Yes, Amelia."

"Who are you?"

There it was again, the slight change of pitch as he smiled over his words. "A great adventurer."

"I'm serious, how come i've never seen you around before?" I shuffled so I was facing him too, nerves itching under my skin.

"I don't live here." He pointed his hand into the centre of the city. "I live there."

A city boy, that confirmed my suspicions. "Do I even need to ask the next question?"

Blake sighed and tucked a loose strand of his fringe behind the spiralled ear. "You want to know why I was on those train tracks..."

Bingo. Was he as depressed as I was?

"The city is loud...too loud. I live there with my parents, always have and always will. They are bankers, business taking over anything else in their lives. I didn't grow up like them, my passions weren't in science experiments and maths equations. I liked art, books, photography, architecture, movies. Creators were my idols, I spent my entire childhood studying books, then comparing them to the shitty remake. Half the graffiti in London is mine, the photos on my friends social media, all taken from these hands. My parents hated the adventurous side of me...said I was a danger to myself." A small quiver in his voice told me this was a sore spot. "They missed every art show, every photography expedition, every movie marathon. They live on another planet to me, and my planet doesn't accommodate the words maths or science."

Graffiti, photography expeditions, art shows..."Blake, you do realise you are a creator too, right?"

"Nowhere near where I want to be." He fiddled with the lobe of his ear.

"You've made a mark, that graffiti will be there to inspire and entertain each and every day. The photography, one day that will be published, it's too good not to be." I stared him deep in the eyes, meaning every syllable. I so wished id lived a life like his, despite his obvious rocky relationship with his parents.

"Those train tracks...it's a link." He flicked his eyes to connect with mine. "Those tracks lead back to London, into my home town. Yet, it doesn't feel like home. I packed up weeks ago, travelling around the outskirts, discovering new places and exploring the things no tourist is ever interested in. My neighbours were big ben and houses of parliament...that doesn't leave much to the imagination. Big, popular things don't impress me much...it's the smaller, more delicate, intimate things that get me wound up."

"Like this view?" I asked quietly.

"Like this view" He repeated, "It's the city, but not the city. My home from a distance...like i'm really on a different planet, in a different time zone. This is the only place I really know around here."