masterpiece ✧ hemmings (on hold)

✧one✧

listen to the playlist in the external link. it's by gaurav.maitreya and its the best playlist ive ever listened to and it'll go great with the mood of this story. c:

✿ l u k e ✿

It makes me smile to see her happy.

I try to capture her happiness through my painting the best that I could. She's eating lunch with her friends in the school campus on those old crickety benches that the school never bothered to replace. The texture of the wood seems too rough compared to her baby-soft skin. She's laughing at her friend's jokes, and though it may seem that she isn't that much, she is.

She's everything I want.

I look down at the sketch pad on my lap and feel content with my sketch of her beautiful face. I've captured the crinkles around her eyes that show whenever she smiles; the definition of her jawline that makes her face ten times sexier; the softness of her lips; and the beauty of her entirety.

Of all my paintings of her, she's never looking at me. She's either focused on her friend, looking down, or staring out at something else. She never directly looks at me. I mean, why would she? I'm nothing. My inability to speak has ceased me from making friends ever since I was a kid. I've learned to live this way, but deep down, I wish I could live a normal life and be able to tell Eleanor that I adore her. And the way I define her through my paintings makes me adore her even more, because I do it with a hint of emotion. I paint her the way I see her through my eyes and the way I think of her.

It may seem creepy, but it's the only thing I'm good at. And plus, I enjoy painting beautiful things.

Eleanor Matthews is the most popular girl in town. Everyone knows her, everyone adores her for her looks and personality, and everyone wants to be with her. I'm a speck of dust against her abundance of suave suitors.

I always imagine a life where I can speak like everyone else. I try to imagine a life where I have the chance to ask Eleanor out and be hers. I try to imagine what it would be like to have daily conversations with her, even if it's just small talk. I try to imagine being face-to-face with her, not just looking at her from afar. But sadly, that's all it's ever gonna be as long as I'm like this—imagination.

✿✿✿

Mr. Dixon is asking me to stay late in class again. He appreciates my long essays and slaps my shoulder approvingly whenever I exceed his 200-word limit. He says nobody even bothers to reach 200 words, and some only do for the sake of compliance. I, however, tend to pour out my honest opinions in my essays, as he'd said.

"Have you ever been in love, Luke?" he asks, a knowing smile on his face. He leans back against his desk and crosses his arms on his chest.

I nod and write my reply on my notebook. This is how we communicate. It might seem a little bit hard, but he's a patient man.

Yeah, I am.

He nods and chuckles. "Let me guess: Eleanor Matthews?"

I look down and meekly nod.

He ruffles my hair, to which I protest to by swatting his hand away. "You dog! Why haven't you told me?"

I give him a blank look. Seriously? I write.

"No, you know what I mean. I really appreciate you making the effort to talk to me," he says.

Well, considering you're the only person who's ever taken their time to know me, passing you up as a friend would've seemed stupid. I write this with a small smirk.

He lets out a dry laugh. "I bet you could make more friends if you try, Luke. Not everyone is mean in high school."

Yeah, not everyone. Just mostly everybody.

He shoots me a stern look. "Don't be so negative, buddy. Tell me, have you actually tried making friends?"

Yes.

He eyes me suspiciously. "With who?"

I shrug nonchalantly. You.

He shakes his head in disapproval, but his expression is showing a hint of a smile. "That's your new assignment: befriend someone. Just one. Then write about your experience. Write about anything regarding your connection with this person."

...okay?

"Oh, and don't be shy. It's a bonus if you make friends with Eleanor," he adds teasingly.

Can you not? I write with my tongue sticking out at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Luke," he says with a smile.

You'll see me but you won't hear me. I offer him a small smile and walk out of the room without looking back.

a/n: 

IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS STORY YOU DONT EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH

BUT JUST IMAGINE LUKE LIKE THIS IT MAKES MY HEART HURT

I CANNOT LIVE KNOWING LUKE IS INCAPABLE OF SINGING

JESUS 

;)

BUT ANYWAY. THIS IS THE START. ILL BE UPDATING REGULARLY, AND WILL BE PUTTING THIS CUTE LIL STORY ON THE TOP OF MY LIST OF THINGS-TO-DO.

LUB U ALL -angelika