Autumn Tears And Winter Leaves
Let's Begin At The End
Autumn is renowned for being the dying season. It's the time of the year when everything is tinged brown and the corners wrinkle into their last gasping breath. It's when everything withers and falls into oblivion from the leaves to lifelong possibilities - to relationships.
Lawen stood over a passionately raging bonfire with a stonework expression. She held a clutter of photographs in her hand that she scattered slowly over the leaping flames. She was burning away the past three years of her life; her rotten dreams, the wasted hopes, and the smug grin of her ex-boyfriend, Craig. Winter was a new start, a hibernation period where she could shovel all her futile feelings onto some other project to blossom. She was adamant in one thing though: that project was definitely not going to be men.
As Lawen slammed her eyes shut to numb the tender memories that were hissing in protest through her mind, she heard a door swing close behind her. Stretching her eyes open as she sighed, Lawen twisted her gaze over her shoulder to see her housemate, Conall, stood behind her. "You finished yet?" he asked, his voice gentle with sympathy. He stepped behind her and wove his arms around her stomach. Lawen's head drooped in reply.
"I can't believe it's over," she murmured. "Three years. It's hardly forever, is it?"
"I know, but it's hardly enough to fall apart. I mean, three years is nothing compared to your whole life," Conall replied. Lawen tensed against Conall's comment.
"Thanks for the sympathy, Conall," she sniped. "It's appreciated."
"Lawen," Conall began. "You know I didn't mean it like that."
"No, but I know you couldn't stand Craig either," Lawen retorted as she twisted out of Conall's grasp to look at him. "It was obvious. I'm surprised you aren't celebrating right now. You've got what you wanted, didn't you? We're finished. He's gone. And I'm heartbroken."
"Lawen..." Conall called as she breezed past him and thundered into the house, cracking the door shut behind her. Dropping his head onto his chest, Conall let out his aggravation in one violent sigh. He'd come out intending to comfort Lawen but ended up twisting her razor-edged pain deeper. "Good going, idiot," Conall spat under his breath as he kicked a wayward pebble further down the garden.
As much as he hated to admit the truth, what Lawen had said was right about Conall. He had hated Craig with a vengeance that filled his mouth with bile words whenever he was in the same room as him. Craig had never treated Lawen how she deserved to be. He'd just intoxicated her with flashes of affection that were powerful enough to keep her anticipating more. It wasn't that Conall was nurturing romantic affection towards Lawen and that his resentment was fueled purely by jealousy. It was just he had known Lawen since they were both five and extremely naïve about the world around them. He had seen her stripped of her innocence by both events and men and it made him fiercely protective of her.
It was Lawen that had ignited Conall with enough confidence to join a band that she had fused in animated excitement as guitarist. Complete with her friends from high school, Torben and Pasco, on bass and drums and Lawen captivating the audience on vocals, they dubbed themselves "Our Teenage Kicks" and devoted themselves to epitomising pure punk rock. Despite the fact that they had all faded past their teenage days, the band continued to perform under that name at local clubs. When they had first exploded into existence, there was a rich sense of excitement that came with their gigs. Although they all realised that they should appreciate the opportunities, no member could help but feel themselves slipping into a cliché with every menial performance they burned to the ground. They were all twenty-two and all they had to exhibit for their work was a sprinkle of ash at their feet.
Lawen was the only member who had actually attempted to secure a future for herself beyond the band. The other four members dedicated themselves to music completely, believing that somehow the band would spiral into success. Lawen knew how harsh reality was. To safeguard herself against it, she had gone to college to study English Literature and was now in University, attempting to gain a degree as a safety net against rejection. As each repetitious gig drifted past Lawen's developing age, this act seemed like a wise investment. Not only did it provide her with some kind of future if her dreams fell in rubble from Cloud Nine, but her heightened knowledge glowed through her lyrics.
Draining out of recollections, Conall threw his gaze up to Lawen's bedroom window. She had closed the curtains to seal herself into darkness and he had no doubt that she was huddled within her homemade cage, crying molten memories down her cheeks. It was enough to spurn Conall into frustrated anger, knowing there was nothing he could do now to help her. Heartbreak had to flourish to fade. With resigned defeat, Conall turned back to the house, knowing that rehearsals were about to get extremely interesting.
Lawen stood over a passionately raging bonfire with a stonework expression. She held a clutter of photographs in her hand that she scattered slowly over the leaping flames. She was burning away the past three years of her life; her rotten dreams, the wasted hopes, and the smug grin of her ex-boyfriend, Craig. Winter was a new start, a hibernation period where she could shovel all her futile feelings onto some other project to blossom. She was adamant in one thing though: that project was definitely not going to be men.
As Lawen slammed her eyes shut to numb the tender memories that were hissing in protest through her mind, she heard a door swing close behind her. Stretching her eyes open as she sighed, Lawen twisted her gaze over her shoulder to see her housemate, Conall, stood behind her. "You finished yet?" he asked, his voice gentle with sympathy. He stepped behind her and wove his arms around her stomach. Lawen's head drooped in reply.
"I can't believe it's over," she murmured. "Three years. It's hardly forever, is it?"
"I know, but it's hardly enough to fall apart. I mean, three years is nothing compared to your whole life," Conall replied. Lawen tensed against Conall's comment.
"Thanks for the sympathy, Conall," she sniped. "It's appreciated."
"Lawen," Conall began. "You know I didn't mean it like that."
"No, but I know you couldn't stand Craig either," Lawen retorted as she twisted out of Conall's grasp to look at him. "It was obvious. I'm surprised you aren't celebrating right now. You've got what you wanted, didn't you? We're finished. He's gone. And I'm heartbroken."
"Lawen..." Conall called as she breezed past him and thundered into the house, cracking the door shut behind her. Dropping his head onto his chest, Conall let out his aggravation in one violent sigh. He'd come out intending to comfort Lawen but ended up twisting her razor-edged pain deeper. "Good going, idiot," Conall spat under his breath as he kicked a wayward pebble further down the garden.
As much as he hated to admit the truth, what Lawen had said was right about Conall. He had hated Craig with a vengeance that filled his mouth with bile words whenever he was in the same room as him. Craig had never treated Lawen how she deserved to be. He'd just intoxicated her with flashes of affection that were powerful enough to keep her anticipating more. It wasn't that Conall was nurturing romantic affection towards Lawen and that his resentment was fueled purely by jealousy. It was just he had known Lawen since they were both five and extremely naïve about the world around them. He had seen her stripped of her innocence by both events and men and it made him fiercely protective of her.
It was Lawen that had ignited Conall with enough confidence to join a band that she had fused in animated excitement as guitarist. Complete with her friends from high school, Torben and Pasco, on bass and drums and Lawen captivating the audience on vocals, they dubbed themselves "Our Teenage Kicks" and devoted themselves to epitomising pure punk rock. Despite the fact that they had all faded past their teenage days, the band continued to perform under that name at local clubs. When they had first exploded into existence, there was a rich sense of excitement that came with their gigs. Although they all realised that they should appreciate the opportunities, no member could help but feel themselves slipping into a cliché with every menial performance they burned to the ground. They were all twenty-two and all they had to exhibit for their work was a sprinkle of ash at their feet.
Lawen was the only member who had actually attempted to secure a future for herself beyond the band. The other four members dedicated themselves to music completely, believing that somehow the band would spiral into success. Lawen knew how harsh reality was. To safeguard herself against it, she had gone to college to study English Literature and was now in University, attempting to gain a degree as a safety net against rejection. As each repetitious gig drifted past Lawen's developing age, this act seemed like a wise investment. Not only did it provide her with some kind of future if her dreams fell in rubble from Cloud Nine, but her heightened knowledge glowed through her lyrics.
Draining out of recollections, Conall threw his gaze up to Lawen's bedroom window. She had closed the curtains to seal herself into darkness and he had no doubt that she was huddled within her homemade cage, crying molten memories down her cheeks. It was enough to spurn Conall into frustrated anger, knowing there was nothing he could do now to help her. Heartbreak had to flourish to fade. With resigned defeat, Conall turned back to the house, knowing that rehearsals were about to get extremely interesting.