I was listening to Starkid's song 'I Wanna Be (A Starship Ranger)' and surfing through old unfinished works. This literally had 3 sentences, so I'm quite proud of this. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.
He understood the objective perfectly. He wasn't allowed to touch her. She was forbidden. Lucas was deemed to like the Topanga of their generation not the Shawn. From the day he met the brunette it was simply decided that he would be the Cory to her Topanga, but he didn't want that. Sure Riley was sweet. She was the sweetest most kind-hearted girl he'd ever met. But that was just it. She was sweet. That about covers her depth. She lived on a cloud of protection. She only saw the best of people and well, that was all dandy but not what he wanted.
He liked the edge. Something that was going to make him work and think. He could picture it now, if he were to go with Riley it would be smooth sailing. Buying flowers, holding hands, picnics, soft romantic candles but with Maya it was different. She wanted twisted and warped cliches and a dash of pink to stain her black hopes, Who said he liked it any other way?
He didn't like the way Riley lived in a bubble of lies. She has a 'Riley Protection Squad', and if that didn't convince him enough he didn't know what would. She was a ray of sunshine and to put it simply, Maya wasn't. That's why there's day and night right? You can't have all sunlight, everybody needs a little darkness. And Lucas was craving it. More than he ever remotely should.
Maya was more plain-spoken and hardheaded. In fact, Maya was earth. In literal terms she was the dirt across the ground and Riley, the clouds in the sky. Not to say that Maya was dirt because she wasn't. She was an angel. She was everything his father wouldn't approve of and more. The tattoo on her wrist of a cardiac monitor she'd gotten when she was 16 after she had a run in with her father about him handling her life. The small blue tattooed anchor hidden away behind her ear she got after he told her he would always be there to keep her grounded. The blue navel piercing that she had pierced for the sake of keeping him around, because, as she'd reasoned, he was a blue ocean crashing into shore and she was flaky sand that needed someone to pull her to safety, he called bullshit, but didn't protest. After all what had he to protest about?
She was one of the strongest girls he knew. Or so he thought. He remembers that one time he had gotten a text from her asking him to come to her window, only living around the corner and knowing that Maya never asked for help if she could avoid it, he pulled on his varsity jacket and raced to her window to see it opened slightly for him. Her back was to the fire escape as he climbed up so he tapped the window to let her know he was there before he stumbled in. Lucas didn't know what he expected if he was honest with himself, so to see her sitting in the middle of the room with her hair in a pony tale and tears streaming down her face and slipping across her baseball jersey, he sighed.
To this day he still does not know what happened, and he didn't need to, all he needed to know was that she was okay, and she was. Wrapped up in his Letterman jacket and snuggled into his side under the covers of her purple duvet he felt her relax. She never mentions that moment but if he brings it up she just smiles and weaves herself into his embrace.
Riley always smiled and wore her heart oh her sleeve, Lucas could tell any emotion of hers by simply looking at her face. But Maya, she was a whole different story. Maya was blocked off and secluded, she kept to herself. She smiled a sad smile and hid every emotion if not anger. Sure she was fiery, with her anger that could very well last for days, but she had every reason.
Maya was jaded and guarded, she only spoke stories of pain and hatred, but that didn't matter. She expressed stories of love and hope in her paintings, no matter how many times she did it, Lucas was always surprised at how she could tell an in-depth story with the few strokes of a brush filled with colour expressed across a blank and willing canvas.
He remembers when he saw her saw her after school in the art room. He had just gotten out from baseball practice, and considering how the coach had kept him back for a good ten minutes, he could only guess it was around 4 o'clock, at least around that mark. Lucas was exhausted and if he was honest, quite peeved off at one on the players on the team. Sulking, he walked out of the change rooms and took the long way out of school to cool himself off whilst reminding himself he had to be home by his mum's set curfew for dinner.
Down the hallway...past the cafeteria...past homeroom...and the art room...and out the back doors.
Seemed pretty simple, however this deemed to hard for him as he lazily stomped past his home room, looking into windows even though he knew no one was in there. And you can imagine him getting startled when he saw the blonde in question jumping around the art room to a song he couldn't hear the lyrics to, only bass cords and drum slams. Her blond locks whizzing around her as she moved across the room to collect more colour for her art piece.
He smiled slightly, this is the Maya many would never know. The Maya that listens to dark music with twisted meanings opposed in the same playlists as songs by Bruno Mars and Sam Smith, the Maya that preferred to paint in a Walk The Moon jumper instead of an apron as she has said so many times before 'If they say I have the freedom to express myself in my art, why am I being held back by a bland piece fabric? If I put all of me into this artwork, it has to be all of me, not me and some flimsy tie-dyed apron', the Maya that so often hid what beauty her voice had.
Still, she has yet to find out he stood there for longer than necessary and that he faked the surprise of her showing him that new art piece that he had never seen before. Nope, never in his life had he seen that red archway atop a sea of blue and black, never. He'd solemly swear on it. Sure he got in trouble for missing dinner and curfew but nothing his mum could say would making him regret it.
He has yet to figure out how deep he'd centered his life around her. When she smiled it was brighter than the sun, when she laughed it was like a soft song in the wind, but when she looked at him, it's all over. When they say the eyes are the window to your soul, they really do mean it. Maya's eyes are the brightest thing about her. She could be in the worst mood, he ranges them in hurricanes, her eyes would still shine brighter than the millions of stars littered across the dark night.
He remembers her birthday, He was out of ideas for gifts to give the fiery blonde, sure he had a few like, new art supplies or even a star in the sky, but what was the point of that? She was fully content with her supplies now and he was willing to bet it would stay in its store wrapped plastic and a star, really? He'd actually thought about that a lot, eventually coming to the conclusion that she didn't need a star for she was one. A bright light in the darkness, a torch in a path unknown, she really didn't need a certificate about some flimsy star in the abyss of the sky when there was already a perfectly good star in the mirror staring back at her. He finally settled on Walk The Moon concert tickets which she undoubtedly dragged him to, not that he was unwilling because after all, it was Maya he was talking about and he would ride a bull for her.
Yellow seemed to be his favorite colour, though he'd convinced himself it wasn't because Maya's favorite colour was yellow or that everyone of her paintings used at least a smudge of yellow contrast, and he'd certainly knocked out the fact that yellow, apart from brown (because honestly, who likes brown?) was the closest colour regarding her curly, golden blonde locks. Of course not, not even remotely close.
Maya was a drug, and he would be blatantly lying to himself if he said he was in the slightest addicted.
"Penny for your thoughts Ma'am?" He hand't meant to stumble upon her but boy, was he grateful he had. Honestly, he was just clearing his head and the fresh summer air seemed to soothe him, how was he to know that he would find Maya sitting on a hill with her acoustic guitar and a pad of paper filled with scribbles of incoherent nothings and every things.
She didn't look up at his words but simply smiled toward the crisp blue sky and hugged her knees tighter.
"We exist on a sphere in a void. There are people in this world, and also animals. Colors exist, you can pick the boldest flower or settle for a blade of grass. You can drench a salad in any dressing you want. Theres a velvet cupcake with white frosting and a cute red petal on top with a side of cookies. Sometimes people run into Ed Sheeren on the street. Someone invented scales, and someone is playing the piano right now and another is celebrating their birthday.
In the world, there's a verity of jelly bean flavors in all shapes, colours and sizes, and there's someone to love out there. People can paint and they can multiply numbers together. You can grab a piece of chalk and draw on almost any surface you want with the free hand" She looked up at me, her eyes were shining and a smile graced her face.
"You can dream as big as you ever dare to with the simple close of your eyes. So why does one feel so insignificant when something happens to them? With your eyelids closed, you can dream but you cannot see."
He guessed he'd need more then a walk, maybe a jog or perhaps a hike, to get the thoughts out of his head now. She looked free but never more tied down in her life.
He sighed pulling her closer to him. She took hold of his shirt and he smiled, this was them. Her being the outwardly chill person but as soon as she was left alone her thoughts went haywire. Its crazy how that works, he muses to himself.
"Aren't our thoughts a scary thing? It is almost as if they enable a laid out plan to emotionally end us. They work with us, giving us hope and opinions and ideas and then turn on us faster than a snake. The thing is, though, the backstab isn't all that uncommon. It's lined up and paired with our vulnerability.
"No one can prevent the noises, the thoughts that enter your head, the words that eat away at your skin, little by little until there is nothing left of you at all.
Anytime we're alone and not thinking clearly or correctly, inferior thoughts lunge and nestle in your brain like venom, and eventually, they break free and spread to areas marked on your body with scars etched in your skin and bones. And that's just the thing, thoughts don't ever stay in your head. They will escape, and that's why it's so important to have good ones."
He hugged her tighter. He didn't know how she braved so much but he made a solemn vow to himself and silently to her, that he was going to be there. Not as a knight in shinning amour, because whatever anyone might think, she didn't need a prince to sweep her off her feet.
She needed someone who was ready to brave the world with her, not for her. She needed someone she could lean on, not someone who would lead her. She was strong and she was brave, to put it simply she was Maya and Maya didn't need a hero, she is the hero. She needed a person who would stand by her and Lucas would do anything in his power to do just that. She didn't need a mould to fit or directions to follow because he had no doubt she would write her own story with the strokes of her paintbrush.
He gripped her tighter, pulling her closer to his chest, knowing full well that he wouldn't be letting go anytime soon.