I was about to ring the doorbell of my house when I heard a boisterous laugh coming from behind me. Furrowing my brows, I turned around to see Atlas's laugh slowly subsiding into small chuckles. A few seconds passed when it converted into a huge grin plastered across his lips.

"What's so funny?" I snapped at him, scrunching my nose and crossing my arms across my chest.

"I was just kidding, Ari," he assured, comforting me with a soft smile and revealing the cute dimples on his cheeks.

'Wait! Did he just call me Ari or am I hearing things?' I gave him a surprised look. Seconds passed by but he was still unfazed. As if just understanding my flabbergasted expression, he quickly straightened up and corrected himself.

"I mean Aria," he muttered, looking all flushed. "I'm sorry it just slipped... you know." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

I cleared my throat and replied quickly, "Oh, no, it's totally fine actually. It's just that I'm not quite used to being called Ari." I nodded my head, not trying to make a huge deal out of it. "In fact, it's good to have a nickname for a change." 

I felt something tugging inside my chest but I wasn't quite sure of it. It was a strange feeling that I've never experienced before but it felt good. 

He smiled at me and clicked his fingers as if just now remembering something. "Hey, I totally forgot. I was actually wondering if we could exchange numbers, maybe?" He asked me, uncertainty clear in his voice. I must have totally looked like a gaping fish because his face dropped even more. Honestly, I didn't expect him to ask for my number.

I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide my happiness. I was beyond ecstatic if that was even possible. 'About time that he asked.'

I dictated my number to him to evade any further awkwardness that he might feel. However I couldn't stop the slight lilt in my voice. 

He pocketed his cell phone before rubbing the back of his neck. "I will text you so... you can save uh, my number as well." He told me, still a bit shy. 

I nodded my head because I didn't know what exactly to say. Saying our goodbyes, I finally rang my doorbell. My mom opened the door and passed me one of her huge smiles.

I didn't give it much thought and made my way towards the living room. Placing my backpack on the floor against the couch, I plopped down lazily with a heavy sigh.

My mom approached me inside the living room and leaned against the door frame. "What?" I asked, raising my head and looking at her. She was acting really weird. 

"You should totally bring that guy over some time," she gushed, wringing her hands together. 

My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "Mom," I whined

"Don't mom me, miss. I'd really like to meet this guy you're showing interest in after a long time," she said, giving me a genuine smile. I returned it with my own and shrugged noncommittally to avoid the topic. 

I didn't want anyone to meet Atlas unless there is something brewing. I couldn't be too sure either. 'What if I get my hopes high and he just wants to be friends with me? A big no-no. Also, mom knows my obsession with Jeff and what if she ends up embarrassing me by saying that I have a huge crush on him?'

My mom snapped me out of my thoughts by asking me a question, "What is his name again?"

"Atlas." I got off of the couch, avoiding any more interrogations from her and headed upstairs to my room.

I wondered when I would earn enough to get a home for myself. 'A home that I can call mine.' I internally sighed at my dreams of having a condo. 'Like it's going to happen anytime soon.' My thoughts seemed to make fun of me. A lot.

Not because I want to leave my family or something but because I need my much wanted space. I don't like answering about everything to my parents.

------

Everyone has their own way of expressing their thoughts, their emotions, their feelings. All in different ways. Some do it by saying it fearlessly and expressing it exactly the way they feel which I find very arduous. Some people show it by writing things like poems or songs, some do it by cooking, some by singing and some by dancing. 

There are people who just put the expressions on their faces of what exactly they feel and their emotions whereas some do it by dressing the way they feel and do the things they want. The list goes on and on.

But the only way I could express things and my thoughts are by actually painting them. Painting has always been very deep for me. By painting a simple thing, one could symbolize it by giving it a plethora of meanings.

It has been quite some time since I last painted anything. What I love the most about painting is that no other art could be as beautiful and as complex as painting is. Through painting, I could not only capture one thing or one person's emotions but that of other people's as well. I could paint a lot of characters in one painting and tell each of their stories at the same time which is very alluring. Just like a photograph.

I looked around me and an exciting feeling bubbled up inside of me. I was standing outside a cute antique shop with all of my painting equipment. The employer, Mrs. Jenson, had permitted me to paint outside her premises when I had asked for her consent. She was a sweet old lady and didn't mind much. 

I looked at my blank canvas supported by the easel with a paintbrush in my hand while the other one tucked above my ear. 'How typical! Ha.' I kept all my painting equipment on a huge stool that I borrowed from Mrs. Jenson.

Once I was content with everything being in its place, I scanned my surroundings again. The best part about my spot is that it would capture thousands of stories because of all the morning hustle and bustle going on around here. 

It's a pleasant sunday morning which was why all the parents were on a late morning walk with their kids and toddlers. The local cafe was looking busy across the street. Some teenage girls were ogling at a few boutique shops here and there. A guy around his 30s was strolling with his dog, a bored expression stuck on his face but it instantly lit up when he saw a girl approaching him, probably his girlfriend.

My hands were quickly brushing against the canvas, capturing everyone's 'on-the-moment' expression as I like to call it. I glanced up and saw the streaks of sun glistening in between through the bluish-white cloudless sky. 

I was about to admire my painting when I heard a commotion from my left. I turned my head and saw Dave standing there with a sad visage and looking down at the ground in shame. My eyes widened because it's been so long since I last saw him. I was about to wave at him but then I heard someone scolding him. The woman who seemed to be in her early fifties was standing just beside him.

I meticulously placed my brush on the palette and leaned my right hand against the stool. They appeared to be engaged in some heated argument or more like the lady seemed to be.

"How many times do I have to tell you to behave yourself in front of my friends but no you have to open your big stupid mouth and ruin everything. Urghh." The woman groaned and looked utterly mortified. 'Who's she?' I wondered.

She huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms across her chest. From what I could make out, she looked sophisticated with a white dress hugging her bodice and accentuating her curves even at such an age. Her hair was tamed and not a single strand looked out of its place.

"I'm sorry, mom," Dave muttered. Since they were standing just a few feet away from me, I could hear them but I had to strain my ears for Dave's response. 'She's his mom? Like seriously? They're polar opposites. Shocker!'

"My friends probably, no wait they surely think I have some freak of a son who tells his mom's friends that he once wore a skirt and high heels to see how girls manage to wear them and walk with them on." She exhaled and looked around her, trying to avoid looking at her son. "Why don't you learn, son?" Her exasperation was as clear as daylight. 

I stood there blinking at the way his mom was embarrassing Dave in front of everyone on an open street. The passersby were starting to stare but continued moving on, taking it as some small issue. 

'What kind of mother talks to their son like this?'

I felt bad for Dave and bit my lip. I urged my feet to move forward instead of standing there, watching the drama unfold. Pushing my body off from the stool I was leaning on, I went towards them. 

"Excuse me?" I tapped on her shoulder and she looked at me with an ugly frown. Her face had minimalistic makeup. Dave looked relieved and gave me a goofy smile and I could see his upper front two teeth missing. I gave him one of my small smiles as well.

"What do you want?"

"I was just wondering if you could tone it down a bit rather than making a big deal out of it. I'm sure people don't want to know about your dramatics." I gave her a huge fake smile and her nostrils flared. She was trying everything in her to compose herself. 

"And who the hell do you think you are?" She gritted through her teeth.

"Dave's friend. Plus, I don't think he deserves such hostility. He might be just trying to click with your friends and I don't think he meant any ill intentions." I tried reasoning with her but I think her big skull just didn't know how to comprehend simple things. 

'Typical problems with snobs. I can't believe Dave's related to this evil woman.'

"Back. Off." She enunciated slowly. "This is our matter and I'd rather you stay out of this." With that said, she stalked off dragging Dave and grabbing his wrist forcefully. I looked at her incredulously. I couldn't believe this woman.

"Bye, Aria." Dave waved at me happily. The entire time I'd been talking to his mom, I had forgotten all about his presence. Dave is such a pure soul. He didn't even look scared or worried. 

"Bye, Dave." I waved back at him with a sad smile. All this time I thought that he was just plain crazy but now I could tell that he lives in the moment. 

I rushed back to my canvas and quickly did the last thing it needed. I captured Dave's happy facial expression when he waved at me while being dragged off by his mom. Then later, I painted his mom who had a scowl etched on her flawless face. Dave and his mom were the highlights of my painting. 

It clearly showed that even when his mom was scolding him, he looked least bothered and had a happy smile on his face. It's like there's a storm of problems among the sea of the crowd but the protagonist is still living his life without caring about the others. Like mingling amongst everything bad. Quickly placing my brush on the stool, I took a step back and admired my painting. A sigh escaped my lips. 

I crossed my arms across my chest and grinned in satisfaction. I probably looked like an artist on a photo shoot. That thought instantly made me giggle like an imbecile.

"Wow. That is... such an astoundingly beautiful painting I've ever seen."

♡~☆~♡☆~♡☆~♡☆~♡☆~♡☆~♡☆~

Hey, so Dave's back after a long time. I think he's pretty awesome :)