❖ Chapter Twenty ❖

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Healing Gabriel: Chapter Twenty

                                                      ※(*)Gabriel's POV(*)

      The day started off slowly, as most mornings usually did. By the time the afternoon rolled around, I was starting to get anxious. I really wanted to be by Evan. I never got to see him during the morning, not even between periods. It sucked because just catching a glimpse of his handsome face made me ten times more happy and lively.

      Now seated next to Evan's side, I linked our pinkies together beneath the table. We were in art class, fresh out of lunch and ready for paint fumes. I was busy cutting out random polygons from colored paper while Evan yawned and coughed next to me.

      "Are you okay?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows at him, pursing my lips a little bit.

      "I'm fine," he said with a nod.

      "You've been coughing a lot lately. You haven't picked up a smoking habit, have you?"

      He scoffed, cleared his throat, then coughed. "No, I just . . . I dunno. I'm fine, though, don't worry."

      I gave him a disbelieving look. Lately he's been coughing and clearing his throat a lot more than usual. I was starting to get worried, but decided not to push it. He didn't push me to tell him stuff, why should I?

      "Okay." I separated our pinkies and squeezed the back of his hand before standing up. I picked up the scissors I'd been using and cupped the sharp part of the dangerous machine in my hands. Seriously, scissors were some crazy business to deal with. You never knew what could happen when you were dealing with them . . .

      "Why are you walking so slow?" Evan asked as I held my arms straight out in front of me, taking one extra slow step at a time as I made my journey to return the scissors back to their holder.

      "I was holding scissors. Precautions had to be taken," I told him once I reclaimed my spot on the barstool next to him.

      "I see. Well, it's a great thing that you're so safe. I'd hate for you to trip, fall and stab your eye out or something. All that red over the already paint-splattered floor. Unless gay people don't bleed red, but instead rainbow colors. In that case, would the janitors be able to tell the difference between your colorful blood and the paints?"

      I flinched. "Ew. Do you have to be so gory?"

      He smiled at me. "Bleeding rainbow blood? How is that gory?"

      "The last part, about the janitors not knowing which was which. Yeah, that's actually kind of disturbing, believe it or not."

      He laughed, nudging my shoulder lightly with his own. The corners of my lips quirked up in a tiny smile at the contact. I loved it when we touched, even if I flinched from it from time to time. He treated me so normally, yet each of his touches meant the world to me.

      I wonder if he felt the same whenever I actually allowed physical contact between us.

      "Evan, don't you want to sit by me?" a sudden voice asked. Both of our heads turned away from each other. We looked in front of us to see a girl. She was the same one he was always conversing with in the hallway and occasionally during art class.

      "Umm, I would, but I'm gonna sit here today. Maybe tomorrow or something?"

       The girl frowned, casting an unimpressed look over to me before batting her eyelashes adoringly back at him. Hmph. He was mine; she could glower at me and dote on him as much as she liked. He was not leaving me for someone as bratty as herself.

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