And They Lived in a Florist

Her boyfriend was dead. Skin cancer. The sun that was apparently supposed to create life killed the only man she had ever loved. In turn, Will became the last man she would ever love, as she could never bring it upon herself to try and even look for someone like that again. Instead, in a turn of events she, being Catherine, became a man. She, or he rather, had always felt more masculine and more comfortable in men's clothes with cropped tousled hair. But, when she, or he sorry, was with Will, he felt like he didn't even need to change and he was happy being a woman for them. He knew after will that this would never happen again. And so through a transitional surgery, a lumpectomy and the legal changing of his name he was comfortable now, comfortable but lonely. 

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Catherine now turned Quentin, a name he had always understandably felt more involved with than Catherine, was looking for love. But Quentin wasn't just looking for any old girl to pretend he wasn't lonely with. He wanted THE girl. He wanted a girl that would be like him when he was a girl for Will. Loyal, beautiful, maybe an artist. The only problem was after the surgery Quentin's family was the only one who stuck by him. As he was still graduating and in the middle of year twelve at this point his friends slowly dwindled as they couldn't understand. They thought it was creepy, like he was trying to become Will, and this supposed theorised morbid fascination caused his friends to flee. His parents said it was dangerous to isolate himself, but it wasn't exactly his fault. After the first few left Quentin understandably thought he'd make it easier for everyone and disappear to the only place he felt alive, the school art rooms. Quentin didn't even take art at school, it was more of a hobby for him and being forced to learn art would've made it all the less enjoyable. But with the schools boundless supplies Quentin could unleash his anger, his loneliness, his torment and anguish and angst on the canvas through colour. Quentin transformed his pain into artwork, his isolation into people coloured and populated by his loneliness, and they say emotionalism is dead.

How bitter sweet that his artistically induced isolation would lead him to a muse.

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Meredith. What a perfect name for a girl who couldn't lead a more perfect life. She lived inside what used to be the nunnery in a catholic school, could you get anymore pure? She went to church often on Sundays with her family and before dinner they would say grace. They all worked hard. Her parents were both teachers which lead them to believe that Meredith, the most academically inclined out of their household, (of two state grade swimmers a scholarship holding singer and an eighth grade ballet and tap dancer), would follow in their footsteps. Meredith however, could not be further from their ideas of strict discipline and study. She wanted to be an author, in fact, she was already an author on wattpad, and the few comments left every month or so where people would ask for updates on chapters kept her going, and she never gave up. She would often write about faeries and mystic creatures and their balance and adaption with humans. Now, although this plot and motif was as overused as zombie Nazi's, Meredith in her quest to be a famous author like J.R.R Tolkiens had something that few authors in such a depressed millennial era had. Meredith could see beauty in everything. And I do mean everything... For example dog shit, understandably isn't beautiful. It smells and it's... shit... But Meredith would argue that a bowel movement means that the dog is healthy and happy, and it's natural organic and helps nature in most cases to continue its cycle, and that is beautiful, nature and happy dogs. See... Meredith saw through eyes made of gold. Dusty pavements glitter in the sunlight full of lost treasures just like the ocean, homelessness is a symbol of humanities ability to carry on even after they've lost everything, the death of the dog in your favourite movie is beautiful... Because it shows the fragility of emotions and what differs us from psychopaths. Beauty to her was a term that only lost its meaning because of the people who were using it. Beauty knows no boundaries it knows no context, it does not change through time, it does not become modernised and categorised. People change and that is the problem. 

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Although Meredith's intelligence, manners and overall generosity and kindness overwhelmed people, leading to many friendships romances and inevitable heart ache, Meredith was surprisingly, unsurprisingly. Lonely. Her parents forceful timetables and their passed on over religious ideas had made her life increasingly desolate. Yes many loved her, but many loved her because she was smart and beautiful. Golden hair, blue eyes and ivory skin. She was like a fairy tale. Every guy had to try at least once to win her over. But Meredith found they were never really looking. No one even knew what her favourite colour was, and she found this offensive to everyone who tried to pass themselves off as 'in love' with her. They were not in love with Meredith they were in love with an idea, a person THEY had created to suit their own fantasies. Sure their fantasy may look, talk, and regurgitate textbook facts like her, but it wasn't even close to... Her. 

Every weekend or so Meredith from her bedroom could clearly hear the church bells ringing and the adoring crowd cheer on a wedding, Pachelbel's Canon would resonate so beautifully through the old walls of the nunnery that you could feel the vibrato on the walls, as if the house was connected to the schools chapel via the neck of a cello. It would seem to continue for hours and it drove Meredith insane. Long after the song had finished she could still hear the cello bass line hum over and over again and she would cry herself to sleep wishing insistently, praying, begging for someone to show her a new song, to get to be her beauty and coax the friend and companion out of the beast she felt she was. 

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This be it so far, I'll write more later, please comment, rate and like it :)