Sanctuary.

The room was filled with a light smoke that wafted through the air, and when you inhaled there was a touch of watermelon to it. Cecilia glided in softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she nodded in acknowledgment to those who knew her. She was a frequent comer to these events, these holes for the downtrodden inspired looney’s with no desire but to create. Or at least, she used to be. She used to spend hours on end here, spend the night here, lose her mind her, be in love here. The times she used to spend here were as sweet as the sticky smoke blown from the beautiful ornate bongs.

“Cecilia, baby, what’re you doing here? Haven’t seen you in a good while, sweet thing.”

Giving her old friend a half smile, her eyes floated around the dimly lit room, taking in the faces she used to know so well, and some she didn’t know so well. “I was in the neighborhood, Mikey. Thought I’d- stop by.”

The skinny dark skinned boy laughed. “I was beginning to miss you.” He shook his head, he thick dreads shifting. “But they always come back, they do.”

Nodding, Cecilia quickly moved away, her thick boots carrying her away from the circle of people she used to know. Being here again, smelling the air and feeling the energy radiate from its inhabitants, she felt tingly inside and she didn’t know if it was good or bad.

She’d meant to ask Mikey if he was here, if he’d seen him. She’d wanted to ask him if he still comes here a lot. Mikey sees everything, sees everyone, knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. Cecilia was afraid of that sometimes, like now. She was afraid he’d ask why she cared, why she came back for him. She was afraid he’d know the answer, when she didn’t even know herself.

Scanning the room once more, she still couldn’t see him. This would be the time to give up, go home, forget she even stepped foot into this place. But her heart was planted there and so were her feet, so she sat. With a heavy sigh, she found a stool and watched the record spin against the needle, round and round it went.

It was like a ripple through the air. She felt him before she saw him, before he spoke. Her heart thudded in her chest, heavy with fear and nerves and she did not turn her head to look at him, not until he said something to her.

“Cecilia.”

His voice was like soft chocolate dripping down a child ice cream cone, smooth and soft and cold but in a satisfying way. She’d always loved his voice, it made her spine all goose pimply and her knees knocky.

Making the slightest of movements, she looked up over her shoulder, her soft hair falling out of place so he was in her line of sight. She stood to face him.

“Oliver.”

Breaking into a wide smile, Oliver took in the beautiful girl before him as she carefully studied the disheveled man in front of her. His hair was in perfect disarray and her lips were wonderfully red and his eyes were tired and vividly green. Her skin seemed to be glowing in the hazy room and his clothes were wrinkled and oh boy was she more gorgeous than ever. A dream, a light, a muse. His muse, back in his art room, where she belonged. Oliver licked his chapped lips, still smiling.

“You came.”

“I did.”

“That’s great.”

It was great, but was it? What was she doing here? Why had she stumbled back into such a foggy place, only to be reminded of such a foggy time in her life when nothing mattered but the drugs the art and the boy.

“Yeah,” she whispered breathlessly. “It is.”

Cecilia didn’t know why she was here. If anyone asked, she wouldn’t have an answer. Oliver hadn’t called her, written her, sent her any request for her of any sort. She just came because she knew she had too, because she felt it in her, felt him in her. It was like a dark magical pull, a dangerous siren call and she had answered, and now here she was.

“I’ve missed you.” He said, taking an unconscious step towards her. She mirrored him. It was a moment like in those indie films they used to watch together, the current between the two of them so strong it called the attention of everyone in the room. Except everyone in this room were too busy, too lost in the pictures they drew or the songs that they wrote or the drugs that they smoked to pay attention to anything but themselves. They were putting on a show for an audience of none and it didn’t even matter. Because when they were together it was as if all the forces in the universe were at work and it was easy to drown in their togetherness.

“I’ve missed you too, Oli,” she said softly, her eyes following the twists in his beautiful dark curls.

“I still wait for you.”

“I know.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I was dying.” Blinking, her long lashes fluttering against her the edge of her cheeks, her hazel eyes shining. Shallow breaths, fidgeting hands. “In here, in this place. The smoke was filling my lungs and it was harder to breathe with every breath I took. I was suffocating here, with these people, with you. You’re all so magnificent, so full of love and passion and something dangerously beautiful that I breathed in like nicotine. You are masterpiece still in progress and I was drowning in paint.” His hand softly dragging along the smooth fabric of her deep red dress, lost in her very being. “You belong here Oliver, and maybe I belonged her too, once, but I don’t think I did.”

“You belong with me.” He said.

“No.”

“You belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to anybody.” Cecilia swallowed the lump in her throat, watching him feel her dress with heavy concentration. Little droplets, twinkling on her lashes like the stars in the sky and when one finally fell onto her cheek she gasped softly. “Not even to myself.”

“I love you.”

He looked up at her, and a second star fell from the sky, finding a home on her gentle skin and gliding down.

“I love you, Cecilia. You may not belong here-”

“-I don’t.”

“But you belong with me. You slipped out of my grasp before –I don’t know how you did it, but one day you were here and the next you weren’t. That’s not going to happen again. You say I’m a masterpiece and you compare me to art but that’s only true if you’re the artist. You make me, Cecilia, you create me. Without you I’m nothing.”

He always spoke so eloquently, he spoke with such language it stole Cecilia’s heart. He painted with his hands but also with his words, he sang the poetry he wrote with such ease and he told stories. A jack of all trades, that was her Oliver. Her Oliver.

“Kiss me.”

She cried, “I can’t.”

“I love you.”

“I fucking hate you.”

She kissed him, or maybe he kissed her. It didn’t really matter because his hands were at her waist and her fingers were in his hair and he tasted like strawberries and she felt like cotton and she loved him, oh she loved him. She could never be in his world, it would eat her up into nothingness but she would always have this. Their love was so great it was the stuff of stars. Entire galaxies were nothing to the epic that was their love.

He gripped at her like she was slipping right from him, because in a sense she was, and he refused to let her go. Not now, when he’d gotten her back. Not now when her mouth tasted like cinnamon and her heart beat against his felt like sex. He’d never let her go, he’d never lose her again.

“Oliver.” She breathed against his lips, pulling away slightly.

“Yes?”

“I have to go.”

A skipped heartbeat. “No.”

“I have to.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Eyes opening, mouth freezing, Cecilia stared at him in shock. Leave here? The sanctuary?

“You can’t leave. This place, it’s-”

“Nothing. A blank canvas, without you.”

With serious eyes, Cecilia leaned over and gently placed her lips to his before walking away. And he followed her, and Mikey watched with a smile and a laugh. And they walked away from there, smelling of watermelon smoke and heartbreakingly beautiful dreams. And they were art, Cecilia and Oliver were living and breathing art.