Not a Fan (Wilbur Soot)

The Fall

"Yeah, I can do Tuesdays at four. Thanks so much for getting me in on such short notice. Alright, I'll see you next week then! Okay, thanks again. Yep, bye." 

Aurora's hand was shaking as she set down her phone. She did it. After thirty minutes of contemplation and getting at least 10,000 steps in from pacing her apartment, she was officially going to start seeing a therapist. 

Again. 

She let out an uneven breath, using her computer chair to support herself. She was relieved. She was disappointed. She was grateful. She was angry. 

The last thing she thought she would be doing one week into her move was scheduling herself an appointment with a new therapist. God, the process of starting over with a new therapist almost made her want to call back and cancel the appointment. 

Explaining her synesthesia, her complicated relationship with her mom, her dead dad, her year long depressive episode, her clear issues with impulse control. She hated it- the feeling of being under someone's microscope. 

Aurora sat at her desk, aggressively shaking her mouse to wake her monitor. She was starting to feel so overwhelmed about the entire situation. Not to mention Wilbur and whatever was going on there. She knew she was fond of him, how could she not be? But was this fondness coming from a genuine place or just a selfish desire to keep the one person who accepted her close?

Really, what the hell did she want out of this situation? A friend? A fling? A boyfriend? Potentially more importantly, what was Wilbur expecting  from her? She had no idea of where he stood in all of this. He could be just as confused as her, or he could know exactly what he wanted.

"Fucking hell." Aurora groaned, resting her head on her keyboard. How was she meant to get any work done when there was so much out of her control to obsess over. 

"You're going to figure this out, Rori. You came here for you. You came here to fix yourself. Some guy isn't going to make or break us." Aurora mumbled to herself, lifting her head off her desk and finally starting work. 

Hours crawled by, the numbers on her screen giving her no sense of mindless comfort. She normally didn't mind her work, it was often busy enough to make the days go by quickly. Today just wasn't one of those days- barely any clients, no projects to start on, and no meetings until next week. 

Aurora looked over to her painting corner, the supplies still half packed away from when the movers came. She did come here to work on herself, who was to say that she couldn't work her day job and do something for herself at the same time. Aurora connected her wireless headphones to her laptop before standing from the desk. This way she would be able to answer any client calls while she painted. 

As expected, there were vey few calls that came through, allowing her time to set up her painting supplies in peace. She didn't have anything specific in mind she wanted to paint, nothing that had outright inspired her. Since being in Brighton, she painted Wilbur once, then created her own take on a self portrait. There was something she always wanted to do, but never did, convincing herself it was a waste of paint. 

The art world says that realism is the best type of art- but what about some of the most famous painters like Picasso, Van Gogh, Edvard Munch, and so many more. They all painted the world in the abstract, letting colors blend messily, utilizing harsh lines, and distorting features. Who was to say she couldn't do that too. 

Aurora had her pallet ready, a variety of colors to choose from. She wanted to paint something that combined her two art forms, realism and abstract. She wanted to paint something that was abstract to everyone else but her.