𝙼𝚊𝚡 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛-𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖.

Chapter 28

It felt like hours since you had spoken to anyone.

Lying on your bed, your eyes drift across your tent and eventually land on your sketchbook - and you get a sudden burst of inspiration.

You pick up the nearby pencil and once again place the sketchbook on your lap as you carefully sit up, trying not to agitate your bad leg.

You flip through the pages.

Eventually, you stumble upon Max's portrait again.

It makes you think about him.

It makes you think about what Gwen said.

Would you really be responsible for his actions?
Do you really have the burden of fixing such a broken boy?
For a moment, you felt lost.
You knew that it would take a long time for Max to fully come to his senses.
But, in a way..
..You were prepared.
You knew that you'd find a way to fix him.
And, hey - even if you can't, who cares?
Max is great the way he is.
..Max really is..great.
But so, so broken.
If Gwen was right about him trusting you, then you'd have a chance.
But..then again, you've only been at camp for barely even 2 weeks.

2 weeks of being at camp and you've already gotten someone attached to you? That's a bit far fetched. Wouldn't you need time to get to know someone in order to like them?

..Hmm.
No, not really.
Love can happen at any time.
Normally, it only appears when you don't expect it.
In your case, it was sudden.
Like an arrow piercing through your heart.
And the arrow was whispering to you.
Telling you that he was the one.
It was crazy, really.
You wondered how Max felt throughout the summer.

How long had he liked you?
Had he only realised his feelings on the journey back to camp?
No, that can't be it.
The whole reason he wouldn't talk to you on the way back was because he was jealous.
So it must've started before that.

The lake.

It..started with the lake.
When you saved him.
You remember his almost frightened look.
He didn't understand his feelings.
He didn't understand his feelings because he had never felt it before.
That's why he became so quiet around you after that.
He couldn't decide on what to say.
For the first time, he didn't know how to cope with a situation like that.
And the more time he spent with you, the stronger the feelings got.
And the stronger the feelings got, the more confused he became.

Poor Max.

He was too broken to understand his feelings.
And nobody could help him.
In a way, he was sort of like a flower.

It begins small.
When it grows a bit bigger, it still hasn't opened up.
It takes a while for it to open up.
Eventually, if the flower is treated right, it will bloom.
It will bloom and sprout it's true colours.

Hmm.
If there was a way..
Maybe..
Just maybe..
You could help Max bloom.

Eventually, you snap out of your mini-trance.
You know, the scariest thing to you is being alone.
More importantly, alone with your thoughts.
Because one minute, you could be drawing.
The next, you're contemplating deep and sometimes dark things.

Flipping the page over yet again, you grip your pencil.

A quote your mother used to tell you way back then was something like 'use your art to express yourself'.
Maybe it was time to do that.
Maybe it was time to draw how you were feeling.

As your hand glides across the paper, you see a drawing begin to form.
You didn't know where it was going. It was like you had almost no control over what you were drawing.
It was like your feelings had taken over.
Your hand continues to draw.
Spectacularly, you feel a sense of easiness as you continue.
Eventually, the picture comes together.
And even though it wasn't what you intended..
..it was clearly what you were going for.

A young boy.
A young boy stood in the middle of the page.
Max.
He was holding a flower.
The flower had bloomed.
And because it had bloomed, Max was smiling.

It meant that if you could teach Max to bloom, both of you would be happy.

Well..

It's easier said than done.

"Y/n..?"

~~~