Chapter 22

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You heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but you didn't move.

You heard footsteps coming down the hall, but you didn't move.

You heard your door open and then close, but you didn't move.

"(Y/N)?"

You didn't respond.

"I brought you something."

You didn't look.

"I brought you some art supplies."

You still didn't look, but huffed.

"I'll leave them on the desk for you, dear."

You huffed again, acknowledging her statement.

You heard the door open and close, but you didn't move.

Art supplies.

Scratch that, you're moving now.

You stood up from the bed and walked over to the desk that was in your room. Laying in the center of the desk was two sketchbooks: one multi-media, and one watercolor. You didn't normally use watercolors, but you knew that the watercolor sketchbook had thicker pages that kept the art media from bleeding; you could use markers. On top of the sketchbooks, were packs of assorted sketching materials: pencils, erasers, sharpeners, some copic liners, and charcoal pencils, too. Next to these supplies was something that made you want to cry tears of joy.

...

Copics.

All of them. 72 Copic Sketch Markers Sets A, B, C, D, and E!

They spent over two thousand dollars in markers!

For you?

Why even?

Maybe Condie and Doolie weren't so bad after all.

You picked up your new sketchbook and opened it, revealing the crisp white page. You smelled the pages, and damn they smelled good.

You pulled out a pre-sharpened pencil and set it on the paper, drawing light circles, guide lines, and body blocks. You had created a light sketch of the human form, and now you began to place your lines. One after the other, the picture began to come together.

That is, until your pencil broke.

The inspiration fell away as you realized what you had been drawing.

You had been drawing Dave.

You went to pick up the pencil again.

But you didn't feel like drawing anymore.

Instead you sank bank into your bed and went back to your hibernation state, curling your knees your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

Dave's POV

I tried texting her.

But she won't answer.

Do You Feel Us Falling? (Dave Strider x Reader)Kde žijí příběhy. Začni objevovat