𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝

                       Blu and X 001

"Bad decisions bring the most fun"
~
Blu plucked another peach slice from the mason jar.
After letting the excess juices drip from the supple fruit, she took a bite, savoring the sweet tangy juices on her tongue, rolling her eyes back in immense pleasure before breaking off a small portion and offering it to the kitten beside her. With wide eyes, one brown the other green he sniffed the
fruit hesitantly.
"It's good,"
she encouraged, before sitting the peach in front of the small ball of yarn the cat was previously tugging with and took another drag of the vanilla blunt in between her bloody red nails.
SZA shaking the apartment as she wails about her fear of falling in love. The song played on a continuous loop ever since her older sister Jazzy left an hour ago.
In the back of her mind she knew why she was burning a hole in the track.
But the front of her mind, the one scrolling through her messages aimlessly knew better.
Or so she thought.
And with the blink of her now red eyes she tapped on the contact named 'X'.
If Jazzy was here she wouldn't be rereading all of their old conversations, receipts of an infatuation.
If Jazzy was here she wouldn't have opened up the keyboard.
She wouldn't have typed
-Hey
Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
She did.
She stuck her toe in the quicksand.
The first step to eventually drowning.
Realizing her mistake, Blu tossed her already cracked phone onto the armchair across the room as if it was on fire.
"Blu Frida Salvino, you know better"
she scolded to herself in between anxious chomps of the peaches left in the jar.
"Why didn't you stop me?!"
The kitten meowed in response and fell on its back as an invitation for Blu to rub his belly.
"Why am I talking to a cat?"
She whined, rubbing the soft fur with her nails, the purrs of the cat sending good vibration through her palm.
Therapeutic to say the least. Even to the point where she forgot what she did- oh wait, the phone just buzzed.
It was sad how the girl leaped across the room to retrieve her phone and sent the poor cat squawking onto the pillow cushioned floor.
Heart beating fast she entered her code and pulled up the message.
Jazzy-you better not be texting him.
"How did she know?"
She wondered out loud before her phone buzzed again.
- I live with you Blu, I know your shenanigans.
- Shenanigans??
- I said what I said. And I'm also telling you to leave him alone Blu, he's not worth it.
Blu locked her phone and looked at herself in the dark reflection.
He's not worth it.
The four words rang through her head on repeat, each time becoming less and less convincing until the sentence changed meaning.
He's worth it.
Three light words that carry the burden of phone calls to mend each others fragile hearts at the ass crack of dawn to grabbing Chinese takeout and people watching at the park. From days filled with writing poetry about everything under the sun to countless nights driving to the hill just too look at the stars-
The hill.
With a rush of adrenaline and a sudden sense of purpose Blu turned off the music, slid on her sneakers and threw on her heaviest, warmest sweat shirt before grabbing her keys.
"I'll be back!" She called over her shoulder to the kitten before letting the door slam behind her.
~
The metal can rattled in his ebony hands as he decided what he should draw next.
The wall was already clustered with various characters, all expressing how he's felt over the years.
Art galleries were too expensive, too posh, too- bland. Elegant walls filled with the same scenic forests, the same Eurocentric faces, the same biblical allusions.
The abandoned clinic on top of the hill was his gallery. Four walls reflecting 17 years of despair, frustration, euphoria, sin. His life story displayed on bricks, under dangling shutters and surrounded by litter.
Where it all began, his mother crying silent tears that salted her red cheeks as she pushed the chubby out into the cold world and onto her denim jacket, alone she wrapped him up as tightly as possible and began the hunt for his future.
Where it all would end, the baby boy, all grown up began to tap the razor against his skin. Watching the skid marks turn from a fleshy pink to crimson as blood began to sprout. With his thumb he collected the blood and began to draw aimlessly on his arm.
He ended up with three sticky letters on his skin before headlights blurred his vision.
"Can't text back?"
Though her words were hostile a smile still threatened to tug in his face.
"Can't speak either?"
"Why're you here?"
"Same reason as you."
"I don't have a reason."
The double meaning behind his words lingered in the thick air between them.
"Yes you do. Everyone has a reason." Talking to him was like talking to a pessimistic wall. And that's exactly what she did, as she stared at the black silhouette of a figure lying on the ground with a halo over his head.
Her words of life went through one ear and out the other as he examined her. Her body on display under the fluorescent street lights. Every movement was done in slow motion, from the rise and fall of her chest to the swayed stroll towards him and the way she slowly collapsed down onto the asphalt. Her leg bumped his reminding him just how much he missed her.
"Tell me mine."
He stood front the ground, shook his paint and began to retouch some of his older pieces as Blu watched, the words on the tip of her tongue.
He repainted the feathered wings on the back of a women that favored Blu's shape, his favorite painting by far.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"Actually, the cat is at home. She misses you."
I miss you.
"I know."
I do too.
Blu strided across the parking lot and latched her hand on his arm before dragging it down and looping their fingers together.
"Why're your hands red?"
She examined the tinted skin, eyes trailing up to his arm and widening at her name written all over it in his blood.
"X,"
"Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. It's therapy, really," he consulted, pulling his sleeve down.
It's crazy, is what she wanted to say but that would only send him running. And so she swallowed thickly, helped him collect his paint and guided the two to her car.
"It's cold,"
he stated when the heat began to blast through the vents, defrosting his icy body.
"Tell me about him,"
"Who?"
"The new painting, the man in the ground,"
"What do you think his story is?"
After a few moments of interpretation, Blu spoke again.
"I believe he's fallen multiple times before and stood back up each time to try again. To get things right. But like always another obstacle stood in his way and without even trying to fight it he forfeited. Took the easy way out and- yeah,"
"What about the halo?"
"The halo....well judging by his coloring, black, which usually represents darkness, evil, sin, he was viewed as a devil, this the obstacles. But in reality he was angel, is an angle,"
Blu looked at the boy after the last statement and found him reclined, eyes closed , hands on his chest as if I'm peaceful slumber. She pressed a chaste kiss to his full lips before continuing.
"He's an angel and it took until he died for people to realize that. Nobody ever cares until you're gone."
"But I'm not nobody, I'm Blu, and I care, X"
"I know."
"How so?"
X took her soft hand in his, missing the soft feel against his heart that continued to beat for her and only her.
"Because I know you Blu. And you know me."
The two sat in the car, letting the quicksand drown them slowly as it has before.
____________
Might give this couple their own story🤔
ZIONSKUWONHOE