dyad | ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵒⁿᵉ

¹⁷ ⁻ ᵗʰᵉ qᵘᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵖᵘⁿᵏ. ᵖᵗ ¹

                                   ¹⁷ ⁻ ᵗʰᵉ qᵘᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵖᵘⁿᵏ. 

                                          ᵖᵗ ¹                            

Months had passed, and I felt like every day, I was coming closer and closer to finally making my Queen, officially mine. Monroe and I were the best of friends, we told each other everything. We were always around each other, and there was really no need to do any further work on the project, as we knew everything about each other. Today, we were writing notes back and forth to each other. Well, it wasn't really a note, it was a paper ball that we were throwing back and forth, since we were on opposite sides of the classroom. 

See, we were in detention. 

It honestly wasn't my fault - okay, maybe it was, but it was Monroe's fault for going along with it. We were going to skip school today, to see this new horror movie that came out, but we get caught trying to sneak away after lunch. The principal wanted to give us ISS, but since this was our "first" offense, he gave us detention after school. There was supposed to be someone watching us, but he had left to go to the teacher's lounge. The paper ball hit me on the nose, and fell into my lap. I heard Monroe giggle, and I rolled my eyes, unraveling the ball. 

You know we can't catch that movie, do you know how dark it gets when we'll be getting out?

I sighed, taking my pen in my hand and writing a reply to her.

And? You scared, huh?

I balled it back up, tossing it to her, she caught it in the air, and rolled her eyes at me. "No, I'm not scared, Josiah. I just don't like being out at night, that's all. Joshua's sick, and we can't walk home." I sighed, placing my feet up on the desk. "Whatever. How about Saturday?" She nodded, "I'll meet you at the movies." I leaned back in my chair, looking out the window. It looked like a perfect day to just be outside. To feel the warmth of the sunlight on your skin, while the soft breeze nips at your exposed areas. I sighed contently, taking a mental picture. I would definitely be painting that later..

"Hey, do you talk to your parents about that studio you want?" 

I looked over at her, giving her a look. She knew that it was impossible to get them to stay in one spot long enough for me to even get the syllable of the word, studio out. Plus, they probably wouldn't approve of me being an artist. "Oh, that's just a hobby," my father would say, "There's plenty of other things you can make an actual job out of." 

They wanted me to do something..practical. Like sit at a desk, doing a job that'll make me tons of money, but I'll hate it in the long run. 

I wanted to do something exciting, fulfilling with me life. I wanted to be a famous artist, and have my name known worldwide. I wanted people as far away as Australia to want to see my future exhibits. I wanted to be so famous, that I made history. Hopefully, Monroe would be my beautiful muse. Looking over at her, my eyes fell upon the baby-blue flower she had in her hair. I took a mental note of that too, imagining ways I could fit that into my painting. Maybe I could paint the flower right int he middle of everything else?

The man that was watching us came back into the room, telling us that we were free to go. He said it like we were doing jail time. We could've left at any moment, but that would've just given us another day of detention. We gathered our things, and walked out of the class room, beginning to walk down the hall together, heading towards our exit. It was about four thirty-five, and the hallway was basically clear, everyone either on their way home or at practice.