Inked > h.s au {DISCONTINUED}

chapter 3

CH 3

 “And, Lennon and Harry,” he says. I look at Harry and realize, wow, I’d rather be in any other place than this one right now.

“Alright, so, this project is going to be about drawing an adjective that describes that person- something that reminds you of that adjective- like, if the adjective that would describe your partner is “beautiful”, then draw a rainbow or a waterfall. Or, if the word is “quiet”, then draw a library. It’s quite simple, really. Or, if the word is sexy-”

“I guess we’ll just have to draw you, Park,” a blonde girl says from the front row, batting her eyes at him, leaning forward on her desk.

He snickers for a second, but he still keeps stealing glances at her the whole time. Twenty bucks says they’re fucking, I think to myself, and I can hear Harry snicker from across the room. I swear, he can read minds.

Because when I think about my sister, I always hear him cough from the other side of the room and catch him staring at me. Or when I think about how stupid Park is acting some day, I can hear him scoff with me. It’s not something I’m used too- superheroes in all that. I should offer to design his costume, I muse, and wonder what it would be like to have a superhero friend. Or acquaintance. Or classmate, or whatever we are.

“But the thing is, you both have to draw the same picture, but with both adjectives. So if one of the words is “pretty” and another word is “fun”, then you could both draw a Barbie doll, got it?” and then he winks at one of the girls, and I think that she might just pass out.

The room is moving again, and the atmosphere is busy with everyone getting supplies and a new canvas- but then Harry sits next to me, with just a pastel kit and a thin piece of paper.

Either this guy is an idiot, I think, or Park is trying to end me.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him this close, and it’s weirder than I thought it would be. His eyes are green, apparently, and his hair is so tangled that you could never really find it’s end. And then his hands seem to just be made for paintbrushes.

While I’m lost in pastel and hands and dumb ass Park, Harry’s staring at me, and  his husky voice finally brings me out of myself, “Smart? No, pretty. No, witty. God, what could you be?”

He nearly startles me enough to throw me out of my seat, just because- I don’t know, because I never really planned on having to talk to anyone in this class or having to work with someone- because art is a personal thing. Art is mine- it’s the thing that I care about and the thing that I would die for.

But if there’s one thing I’m not going to do, it’s having a conversation with him. Because I don’t need his opinion on me to perfect my art.

I look away from him, but I can’t stand to look at Park or at anyone that happens to be staring at us, so my gaze ends up being directed the floor. “Just guess.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We have two weeks to work on this assignment / It’s the second week and we haven’t even marked the page. “You know, it might help if you two actually talked to each other rather than playing with the pastels and listening to music for the whole two hours,” Park says, releasing his face from a smile one day. My eyes snap over to Harry, who’s been staring at me the whole time. “Clever,” he says simply, and it feels like he can see through me. And the feeling is awful, so I peer back at him and say, “Mysterious.”

And then Park walks away and Harry grabs the paper, furiously shading a background of black and greys and a bit of purple, and I faintly wonder if he’s trying to draw a giant bruise.