Through His Withered Eyes

Chapter 2 - Creative Flow

Time appeared to pass so rapidly after that physics lesson - it was lunchtime already. Today really felt like a blur, nothing felt like it was in focus. So many things invaded your mind as you evaluated the very few, brief exchanges you had with this 'Miles' boy.

Staring into space, whilst sat at a lunch table with a few acquaintances, you were reminded of the subtle softness you saw in the boys face, perhaps a hidden surprise for those who wished to look further. 

For the past few hours, everyone you've asked has regurgitated similar things about Miles: his secretive ways; tough guy persona; startling intelligence; and apprehension toward making friends (or just fun in general). Apart from this one lucky guy named Ganke, no one actually  knew him - it seemed people mainly knew of  him. Truthfully, you felt a pang of sadness for him, he couldn't possibly enjoy being lonely, you know you don't. 

Giving you a slight jump, the girl from earlier, Lily, gave you a slight tap on the shoulder, bringing you back to reality. The previously muffled sounds of the cafeteria became clearer and flooded your mind, washing out all the inquiries you had on Miles permeating your brain.                                                                       

After Physics earlier you conversed with Lily for a while, exchanging numbers, and planning to join her at lunch to go to the art room. It seemed to be a very happy coincidence that you both were Art students. 

Grabbing your stuff, you left in a flurry, excited to put your focus on something other than the awkward interaction earlier that day. 

Arriving at the vibrant place that was the art room, you felt a renewal of energy, ready to pounce at any creative endeavour assigned. Adding to the cheerful spirit, Lily gave a beaming smile. Finding a place to settle, you brought your unfinished work to the chosen table. 

"Hey Y/N I'm going to use the printer. I'll be back in a bit!" Lily declared in her sweet-sounding voice. 

Left to your own devices, you let your artistic muscles flex. For the most recent part of your coursework, you were doing a landscape painting of the Brooklyn skyline. You winced at the work ahead of you, but powered on. Putting headphones on, you began to feel at peace in your happy place. 

Oblivious to your surroundings, you failed to realise that an individual took a seat a few chairs away from you - the rest of table was barren, with peoples paintbrushes and pencils sprinkled around. Moments passed until you finally shifted your focus, looking to your side. 

It couldn't be. It had to a trick of the light...

It was him. It was Miles.

Enamoured by the investment you held in your painting, Miles had been studying you with interest for those unassuming minutes, sketching in his sketchbook as he did. Fascinated by the delicate brushstrokes you placed upon you painting. He followed your movements with his eyes, like a puppet to a string.

As soon as your awareness returned, your eyes fixated on him - he flinched back to his sketchbook as if nothing happened.  

Stunned for a moment, you searched for words to say. Is this not what you wanted, to have a chance to see him again? Scraping your brain to find a way to greet him, you began to panic.

Perhaps a 'Hello'? No that simply wouldn't do.

Disrupting your thoughts, Miles did the honours of breaking the ice.

"Nice painting," he commented with a slight warmth that seemed foreign from his strong, defined mouth. Whilst he didn't smile, you envisioned what it would look like if he did: striking; full of teeth.

"Oh thanks! Haha..," you blurted awkwardly, "You're Miles right?".

In response, he gave a small nod. Intrigued to find out more about this person - who seemed to know quite a bit about him - he let you continue. 

Sheepishly you apologise about the interaction you shared in Physics, "Sorry about earlier. I say a lot of stupid shit sometimes,". 

Miles felt a slice of guilt on how he behaved earlier that day. Sometimes he gets so irritated when people try to get in his business, he hates that. However on reflection, he came to realise his reaction was a little intense considering person he was dealing with. I mean look at you, you were dancing to music just a few seconds ago. What real harm could you do? 

Letting out a mild sigh he responded, "Don't worry 'bout it. We cool,".

Eyes wandering the room, your vision landed on the sketchbook Miles had with him. Now closer, you could see the cover, decorated with stickers and labelled with his full name in a graffiti font. 

"Miles G. Morales," reciting what you read. 

"It's Morales," he corrected, rolling the 'r'.

"Oh my bad,"

"So what 'bout you? What's your name, huh?" he asked with heightened intrigue.

"Y/N," you squeaked, still nervous as hell. Continuing, you return a question, "So you do art too?".

"Yeah. My Uncle is the one who introduced me to it, I've loved it ever since," he said in a softer tone - perhaps, to calm the nerves that he detected from your voice.

Nodding intently, you felt proud of yourself for getting him to speak with relative ease. Little to your knowledge, he too was happy to talk, he did sit near you after all.

Chatting for a bit, you both asked questions to one another, his answers more brief than yours. You giggled and laughed, managing to crack a few weak smirks from Miles. 

Before you knew it, it was the end of lunch, and Lily had returned from the printing room with an an array of photos. At the sight of Miles sat next to you, Lily almost looked like one of her pictures, stuck in time due to the shock. 

Hearing the bell, Miles got up to go to class. Before he could disappear, you tried to catch his attention.

"Hey Miles! Could I give you my number?"

Writing the digits on a scrap piece of paper you hand it to him. 

Slipping the paper into his sketchbook, he walked with a steady speed towards the door, acting as though nothing had happened.