Cigarettes laced with Nitro-glycerine.

[Samuel Phillips]

The intense afternoon sun shone down on Samuel, he felt as if he was being watched by its cryptic rays, he despised the outdoors, if it were up to him, he would always remain inside, hidden away from the outside realm. It would make it easier for Samuel to ignore the harsh reality that faced him every day, being stuck in his own fantasy world was stress-free for the adolescent, staying away from what was really going on was the only way for Samuel to keep himself happy but not today, instead of hiding from the truth, Samuel was leaning against a tree on the side of the path that outlined brightstone, trying to make up an excuse for going out in the first place. He knew his parents were going to question him about where he was when he arrived back home, and Samuel was far from telling them why he really left the house, which was to smoke. It was one thing to smoke a cigarette but it was a whole other territory trying to think up a way to explain your prolonged absence to family. Samuel ran a hand through his dark brown hair, before taking a drag from his newly lit cigarette, and zoning out into a state of far off wonderment. He had a feeling his overactive imagination wouldn't do him justice today and it probably wouldn't tomorrow either, yet he still continued to stand there, remaining ignorant to the events around him.

 

[Buddy McMerdor]

The rancid taste of soil echoed through Buddy’s mouth as he dragged himself to his ground shocked feet. His art book lay slightly crushed to his immediate left after being compressed by his falling weight. Another attempt of sleep ruined by falling from a branch. As soon as he started to collect the scattered pages of unfinished comic ideas the dry retching started.

Water was his only priority and the lake was the best chance. Although the gagging stopped a few moments after he started sprinting, he still felt that the lake was a priority. The back of his loose jeans tore along branches embedded in the ground and various forlorn objects attacked exposed ankles.

Rupturing from the forest a small and isolated cloud of cigarette smoke drifted past directly in front of Buddy. The sting in his eyes halted him from advancing to the salvation of water. Thieved of breath Buddy doubled over letting the beads work there way from his umber hairline to the tip of his nose. The released of his grip on the book and an examination of his hand revealed smeared ink. Out of the corner of his eye a second plume of haze crept slowly towards him.

Buddy straightened his posture and looked over to the smirking figure. A third puff was passed to Buddy before he spoke. “Hey”, Just a pathetic word and Buddy’s brain shifted into gear. It still took a few seconds, but Buddy eventually said with an unintentionally demeaning tone, “You know those are going to kill you?”.

 

[Samuel Phillips]

A feeling of veiled aggravation crossed Samuel's face as he heard the patronizing words from another, not again thought the sixteen year old. The last time had had left the safety of his home, he had been interrupted by a bright adolescent named Elspeth, who had now become his girlfriend. Being in an exclusive couple was unlike the teenager, he despised putting labels on something that would end up being a disenchanting wreck from the get go.

The only thing different about this interruption was Samuel was actually smoking this time. He immediately turned his head to face the direction in which those words were uttered from. The Part-Veela saw somebody about his age, if not older, facing him. "What does it matter to you?" scoffed the adolescent, he had chosen to smoke, and it was his business. Being ever so rudely interrupted by some dirtied up loser wasn't something Samuel was going to shrug off.

The sixteen year old intentionally dropped his cigarette and stomped it out underneath a tattered converse sneaker, he pensively drew closer to the other teenager, only to notice the stranger carried an aged art book. What came next to the sixteen year old was an expression of subtle shock, he couldn't stay angry at a fellow artist, he knew all too well the overactive emotions and imagination a creative mind needs in order to well, create. The rushed thought process Samuel suffered passed along faster, leaving him to stand still and focus his attention solely on that art book.

 

[Buddy McMerdor]

Despite the intimidation exchanged in the stand-off, Buddy stood tall, barely even moving any part of his being. In all the time studying the almost enticing design of the oppositions face, he noticed quick glances to and from the book in his hand. The longer they spent staring each other down, the more Buddy felt oddly comforted.

Finally, Buddy too looked at the book in his hand. Sensing his opponents intrigue, he lifted the book and opened to a random page. The image displayed was a panel from an unfinished comic book character. An adult man wearing a 1930’s style army helmet with raven hair covering his eyes and a battle axe protruding from the holder strapped to his back. Of all the characters designed over the years, this one for an unknown remained his favourite.

“Do you draw too?” the tremolo in his nervous statement was obvious and accented by the subtle quiver in the cradle for the book. His eyes drifted up back to the other teenagers face and he couldn’t help but picture his shirtless chest in a momentary fantasy. He still hadn’t put his finger on it, but he knew something in this boy made different than any other he had met.

 

[Samuel Phillips]

As the silence between the two teenagers protruded the airy sounds of the enclosed wood surrounding them, Samuel remained still, the sixteen year old had no inkling to counter the situation with the anger that had previously raged within him. Those feelings had left and been interchanged with feelings of childish curiosity. This new countenance Samuel now showed was a much approved adjustment to his usual expressions of frivolity and tediousness, causing the adolescent to smirk once more.

Samuel observed the stranger, as they opened the book to disclose a sketched cartoon character. Samuel, being artistically inclined, admired the drawing straight away. He hadn't chosen to walk the road of sketching much, painting was the sixteen year old's forte, but he still wouldn't hesitate in looking at the drawing. "What does this dude do?" asked the teenager, his deep brown eyes reverting back to the stranger's. Two artists discussing their work was something Samuel was yet to experience.

"I don't draw, I paint." Answered the sixteen year old, keeping the same confident tone as earlier. Samuel knew that by now, it was about time for an overture to commence between the two teenagers, and Samuel was going to be the one to initiate the introduction. "I'm Samuel. I can't say I've met an artist like you before." He stated, holding out a paint stained hand for Buddy to shake. Being able to introduce himself politely wasn't anything new to Samuel, although most of his previous introductions had been discourteous.

 

[Buddy McMerdor]

Buddy omitted a short and amused laugh, half believing the near complement was a joke. He held Samuel’s hand in introduction and spoke “Buddy. He was part of a comic that I was trying to write, but it didn’t go very far, I’m not that good with words.” As he pulled his hand away from Samuel he felt the pulling of his hand from the wet paint on Samuel’s fingers. Buddy cleaned off his hand on the leg of his ravaged grey jeans.

The human interaction was refreshing for Buddy who usually spent his days alone, up a tree with a pen in his hand and the book open on his lap. What he found the most comforting however, was learning that Samuel also used art as his creative medium. He hadn’t met anyone else like him before. The longer they spent together, the more relaxed he become.

Now that the initial tension in the air had passed, the atmosphere become brighter and Buddy felt that he could talk and in a more casual place. He started thinking about what Samuels art was like. He had never ventured into painting himself, but he could still admire the work of those who have. “I would like to see some of your work sometime.” Buddy grew excited at the thought of exchanging ideas and opinions with his new acquaintance.

 

[Samuel Phillips]

The sixteen year old already felt like he recognized Buddy from somewhere, the nostalgia of this meeting lead the adolescent to draw the conclusion they had met before. Samuel's imagination had played tricks on his fragile mind more often than not; and dismissing the idea was a coherent decision on his part. "Practice makes perfect." Replied the young wizard, now was too soon for the juvenile to reference his poetry endeavours. It was not relevant to the discussion anyhow.

Meeting another individual as fanatical about his pastime as Samuel, made the teen smile. He couldn't recollect the last time he had shown an honest smile, it felt like eons since the sixteen year old had exposed some form of cheerful sentiment. Samuel liked Buddy already, and could predict the two sharing their creative undertakings for hours on end.

The thought of showing Buddy his work intrigued the adolescent, his abstract paintings had left many a puzzled expression on the faces of others he had revealed them to. Buddy's artistic mind would make him the perfect spectator for Samuel’s paintings; and the possibility of another being making sense of his craft motivated Samuel to no end. "That would be great." Said Samuel, understanding more about Buddy would make a decent use for the seemingly endless time Samuel had on his hands.

 

[Buddy McMerdor]

For the first time in a while, Buddy wore a genuine smile. His internal afflictions and the pressure bestowed upon him to do well in school exams make feeling real emotion difficult. He could feel that slowly changing. Even in this first encounter, he felt something he hadn’t before. “Looking forward to it.” Buddy knew better than anyone, except perhaps his new friend, how difficult it can be show anyone your work so to see such enthusiasm warmed him.

Now more than ever has Buddy wanted to draw. This is the exact kind of thing that he would take in all the inspiration of the world. His eagerness showed through more than it had in years and it took him the pain in his face from smiling to realise how excited he was. Buddy felt throughout his entire being that the newly formed relationship would benefit him in the world of art. He just couldn’t wait to see the works Samuel has made. “So where do you do your paintings?”

 

[Samuel Phillips]

This had been a prosperous afternoon for Samuel, when Buddy and disturbed him earlier, Samuel assumed the situation would end up the same way his first meeting with Elspeth had. The destructive thoughts that crossed the wizard's mind everyday would naturally make him see the universe in a negative light, but it was different with Buddy. "I paint in my bedroom, it's nowhere special." Answered the teen, he yearned to one day own an art studio of his own, it would make for a favoured change of venue, enabling Samuel to express himself more through his work.

The wizard's original reason to leave the claustrophobic walls of his home that day was to have a break and smoke, now he only remained outside to further discuss the similarities between himself and his new found friend. "What else do you do to fill your time?" Asked Samuel, making an assumption about the other teenager was not the sixteen year old's intention. He wasn't going to analyse Buddy's intricate personality on one small thing like he had done with his girlfriend Elspeth. Instead, the adolescent was going to get to know Buddy properly. He lamented his rude actions towards his girlfriend when they met, he wouldn't let himself act insolent to a kind face like Buddy's.

 

[Buddy McMerdor]

Buddy’s crude imagination got the better of him when pondering the proposed question. He considered making a crude gesture, but decided not to act so immature and respond in a more appropriate manner “I like being outside. Sometimes I will leave my house and sit up a tree for a few hours, just think, read a comic or something. I’m a big Alan Moore fan.”

He started building a mental image of Samuel’s room. He pictured a small, dark space, walls covered in the paints he held the most pride in, piles of empty paint tubes and broken pallets wrecked with dried paint. Then he pictured his own room. Clothes streaking the floor, the untidy and disorganised bookcase of graphic novels and a small concentration of drawing and photos plastered on the ceiling above his bed.

Constantly shifting his weight between his two feet, Buddy’s legs and feet started to ache. Spending most of his time sitting or lying down in trees and no time actually walking around, he has still not become accustom to standing for long periods of time. He tried to look out for any seating, but saw none. “Hey, do you want to go somewhere we can sit? My feet are starting to hurt a bit.”

 

[Samuel Phillips]

To understand Buddy better, Samuel required analysing the other teen's pastimes, which had conveyed Samuel's prior query. If the tables were turned, the sixteen year old wouldn't have had the aptitude to retort, all he did was paint. "Who's Alan Moore?" asked Samuel, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the teen. A hobby was supposed to pass the time, not fill it. His art had been slowly developing into an obsession rather than just a hobby.

There were obvious similarities and differences between the two adolescents, Buddy liked to spend his time outside. Samuel on the other hand, spent most of his time indoors with his curtains shut, masquerading himself from everything, the only article permitting his many canvasses to be visible was the light radiating from his fireplace. Being born into a wealthy family had its rewards, a fireplace being one.

"You need to make yourself more comfortable do you?" Said the sixteen year old before winking at Buddy, a flirty undertone grasping onto his words. Telling a Joke was foreign to Samuel, but he had tried so sound funny to the other adolescent. Successfully impressing his fellow artist was a goal Samuel had in his sights, he desired Buddy to be his comrade. If acting comical to him was the right path, Samuel was sure to wander along it.

 

[Buddy McMerdor]

Samuel’s question rang through Buddy’s mind. It was one that he had heard many times, but now his usual response of ‘Never mind’ didn’t not have to be said. At long last he had found someone else who could appreciate his favourite author and graphic novelist the same way he does “Holy crap, Alan Moore is amazing. He writes the best graphic novels. Watchmen, V for Vendetta, From Hell. I think you would really like the art in them. He makes them so well.”

He picked up on subtle hint established in the way he said ‘comfortable’. Buddy stepped up to Samuel, their faces only centimetres away. Buddy tenderly grabbed onto Samuels bicep and said in an almost whisper “I just need to admire you from a different angle”. The minute he said it he realised how stupid he must have sounded. How he might have read into what wasn’t actually there between them.

 

[Samuel Phillips]

The two teenagers had one immense thing in common, they were both artists. They had been conversing about their work, throwing questions back and forth, perpetuating a build up of respect for one another. When the other adolescent drew closer, and eventually ended up invading the wizard's personal space, the sick feeling of unease built in Samuel's gut. This was a position he didn't appreciate being in. He didn't realise what was happening. The melodramatic transformation in conversation from enjoyable to uncomfortable petrified the teen.

When the Part-Veela exchanged contact with Buddy, his anxiety worsened. Forcing the next words to upchuck from his mouth. "Get the hell away from me!" Samuel exclaimed, pushing Buddy away from him in one swift movement. This was astonishing, and without a doubt awkward. The next thing the adolescent did was turn around and escape the whole thing by striding away rapidly, leaving Buddy by himself within the trees.