Chapter 16

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Elijah's POV

I don't know what I expected from when I walked into Timothy's bedroom.

I guess I expected what I saw. Navy walls, almost a whole wall filled with wooden bookshelves and almost every book I could ever think of, he even had another small book shelf on another wall. His bedroom was the opposite layout of his sister's, and the big window was shining down on a navy cushioned rocking chair that I saw Timothy place the book he was reading earlier. His bed had navy bedding, he had a desk that had a bunch of ridiculously good drawings hung on the wall above it. It really just looked like a boy's room, a boy who loved reading.

"Did you draw those yourself?" I pointed out the drawings I admired previously.

Timothy chuckled, "No I didn't actually. That was all Colette," he said as he plopped down on his bed, leaning against the wall.

Timothy had put on purple jogger pants since we came in here and I tried my best not to protest about it.

"Dang," I said. "Those are so good." I remember now, that when I walked into Colette's room earlier there was a fair amount of paintings and sketches hung up on the walls, even some morals on the walls, but I was more focused on the other piece of art that was in the room.

"I know," Timothy agreed. Once I was done observing my surroundings I kind of just stood awkwardly, I wasn't sure what to do now.

I walked over in front of the rocking chair and pointed at it looking at Timothy without actually asking if I can sit there, Timothy just rolled his eyes and nodded.

I sat down and started to rock back and forth, "do you read here?" If I had a spot to read like this one, comfy chair and shining sunlight, I would actually do so.

Timothy nodded. "You have more books then I would've thought," I said.

He just nodded again. "I feel this conversation is a little one-sided," I declared.

"Sorry, just thinking." He shrugged.

I got up and sat next to him in a rush, "you're okay aren't you?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"What happened last night?" I asked cautiously.

"No," Timothy shook his head. "It's not that-I mean I was upset about last night-but not anymore. It's just-how do you feel about me?"

I looked up at him, I love you, I wanted to say. I've loved you for forever now.

"I think I've made myself pretty clear," I said instead.

"It's just, I'm pretty messed up," he said hesitantly.

"Aren't we all?" I replied, that didn't bother me. If I wanted someone who wasn't messed up I'd never find anyone, we all have some darkness inside us.

"I mean I suppose.." Timothy started to nibble on his lip. I hated when he did that.

"I'm messed up too, you know," I assured him. "But, Timothy, I want you not someone who's had it easy, or is always getting everything handed to them, or someone who's-who's not you. If your goal is to convince me to leave you alone, I hate to inform you that you will fail," I said, looking in his bright ocean eyes. Sometimes I thought you could see them no matter where you were, they shined so bright, and he didn't even realize that they were all I dreamed about for months.

He looked down and started biting his lip again, "okay then," he shrugged.

Timothy could never hold eye contact for that long, I knew that. He's only done it a few times, and stopped when he was aware of it.

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 12, 2017 ⏰

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