Southern Constellations

Romany Fitzgerald wishes one day to lead a frivolous and harmonic life pursuing her dreams, but first, she must complete the exhausting challenge of being an actual teenager. Romany believes her vicinity is filled with people who just do not understand, in fact, nobody understands. Most of all, there's a person she would give her left arm to avoid.

Austin Orion.

Hell-bent on bringing beautiful chaos into Romany's life, can Austin and Romany build a steady friendship on the ruins of a lifetime of hatred? This seems far too surreal for Romany, but she is unknowing of the hell and torment waiting for her around the corner; she was yet to lose possibly the most important thing she had in the world; music.
But she still has the constellations for guidance; looking for answers in a world that doesn't know the question, can Romany delve deeper into what is meant to be and follow her heart?

Did fate fall short this time?

A/N: Rated red for bad language and trauma.

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5. Five

 

It had been two weeks since Austin and I began progress on our assignment. Austin and I were on speaking terms again, and I spoke to Vic again and we finished our partner assignment too, which I was mildly pleased about. But that one Thursday still stuck in my mind, no matter what day of the week it was, or what the current situation was. It was always there. I'd always been curious.

Austin and I argued a lot. In fact more than we did before, but it was about unimportant and stupid things. Today was a good example of that.

“That part is meant to be green.” Austin said, pointing to a small section of the artwork I was painting.

“No, that part is green, this part is blue.” I sighed irritably.

“No, it’s not.”

Yes. It is.”

“We agreed that that section would be green, and that section would be blue, and you’re doing it wrong.”

“If you’re so perfect, do it yourself.” I handed him the paint brush forcefully, but with the sudden force he failed to grab the brush and it drove straight into his chest and onto his shirt.

The majority of the time, we would argue and one would storm off for ten minutes before resuming work. This time was different. Very different.

“You did not just do that.” His gaze was stern and ferocity blazed in his eyes. His eyebrows raised and his mouth formed a tight line.

I bit my lip, desperately trying to hide my impending laughter. I failed miserably, hiding my smile behind my sleeve whilst he stood giving me an uncompromising look.

He bent down and picked up the other paintbrush, coating it thoroughly in paint. He stood up straight once more. Without warning he flicked the paintbrush at me and covered me in a splattering of blue. I looked up and saw him smirk.

I grabbed the other paintbrush and pulled it along his chest, leaving a line of paint on his torso. I smiled sweetly.

“Right, that’s it.” He smiled, grabbing the bottle of paint on the far side of the table. He launched toward me, squirting a load of paint in the process. I managed to dodge it at first, but the second time I wasn’t so lucky, I looked down and my hair was dripping with blue paint.

“You’re going down Orion.” I grabbed the pot of green paint behind me and lunged at him, coating him in a layer of green. He threw himself after me as I ran around the classroom, hopelessly trying to escape his path. He was behind me so I used my hand and scooped a handful of paint out and hurled it behind me. It got him in the neck. Success!

He eventually caught me after I got barricaded by two tables he pushed together. He reached me and poured yet more paint down me whilst I continued to flick paint back at him.

As if on impulse, he dropped the paint and cupped my face, I too, dropped the paint bucket I was holding and it fell to the ground, spilling everywhere. His lips collided with mine and I ran my hands through his hair, coating my fingers in a grassy color.

His kiss was delicate but powerful at the same time, and I would have actually enjoyed it had I not have gotten the constant taste of paint, and had Mrs. Fletcher not opened the door right at that moment. We pulled away at the sudden disruption, and Austin cleared his throat awkwardly. I blushed an intense red, contrasting with the green coating my hair. There was an awkward silence for far too long.

“May I ask what is going on here?” She folded her arms and started tapping her foot on the laminate flooring. I looked from Austin to Mrs. Fletcher, back to Austin again, and I didn’t know what to say.

“Uh, we just, got a bit…” Austin began scratching the back of his head, buying himself time, “sidetracked.” He removed his hand from his head and removed a chunk of green paint. He turned to me and exposed a glimmer of a smile.

“It looks it, am I going to have to split you two up if you cannot work together?”

“No!” I said almost instantly, the own loudness of my voice shocked me, and I inwardly recoiled, “we have a really good idea Miss, we just got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

“I’m not happy with you two, clean up this mess and report to detention for the rest of the day, you can’t sit in classes like that.”

We nodded obediently and began to clean up.

“That was your fault.” He smirked.

I gasped, “my fault?! How is it my fault? It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t tell me I was doing it wrong.”

“Just say sorry and I’ll forgive you.”

I laughed heartily, “No. How about you say sorry?”

“Hmm,” He tapped his finger to his chin, “let me think... no.”

I groaned in irritation, “You’re so annoying, did you know that?”

“So you keep telling me.” He grinned broadly.

 

That was just a tiny flicker of happiness on the mass of bad days I have. I immersed myself in books for a couple of weeks after that moment, to keep me sane, to keep me grounded on planet earth, good things just don't happen to you, Romany, you're going to get hurt. What happened shouldn’t have. Austin’s ludicrously popular, he could have any girl he wanted, he’s inexplicably good-looking and he has the world at his feet. I’m just me. I don’t have any remarkable talents, I’m not popular, or have many friends, or am even happy enough of the time, we’re just too different, and I don’t think I could cope with that.

Since that day I had distanced myself from Austin more often than not. Sure, we’d work on the project together, but I’d only do what I necessarily had to do. I wasn’t avoiding him; I was just protecting myself from getting hurt. I read four books in the ten passing days after that moment. My favorite by far, was The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. One thing that stood out the most was something Hazel Grace said wisely.

“Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.” This got me thinking, a lot, too much for my own good, in fact. Austin was an example of this. The infinities were the wondrous things he did. The things he did that never failed to amaze me. They were infinite. Space is an infinity, or so it is said, but that is a different kind of infinity. Austin is an infinity, he has no end. And I can tell that he will be remembered, like the stars when they die, and they’re beautiful and people study them and admire them.

But sometimes, for my own good, I think that I should stay here and be a stargazer. Because Austin is a star, beautiful and memorable, and bright and full of so much wisdom and potential, and maybe I’d just be better off watching from the sidelines. After all, I'm only me.

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