Jonathan almost found himself drooling.
Before, his features were dull and soft - it made him look innocent. Now? Prominent cheekbones stuck out in the best angle possible - a jawline had even taken place. His slightly faded red hair had grown out, and his fair skin had complimented his hardened face perfectly.
When he had left his room to go finish unpacking (they lived next door) (as always), Jonathan buried his face into his pillow and had groaned in frustration.
Why was he so awkward?
Thinking back on it, Jonathan didn't have a reason to be awkward in the first place. If he really thought about it, he was the one to blame.
Why did he have to be so damn hot?
Over the course of five years, Jonathan had came to terms with his sexuality. He had accepted himself, and so has his family. His parents had rarely cared about him in the first place, something he hated to admit but also something he's grown to appreciate.
"Gay or straight, I don't care - I hate you equally," was what his older brother, Luka, had told him. It wasn't quite what he was expecting, but he took his words into comfort. It was nice knowing that people don't have to love you to accept you.
However, he's never actually had a love life, either. Not even a like-life. The words were poison in his mouth, but ever since Sherwin had left, his life had indeed became dull.
He didn't know what to expect now that he was back. Didn't he just say that he had gotten his closure?
Would they become friends again? Would they ignore each other? Would they be nothing more than a passing figure in a sea of faces?
Jonathan groaned, throwing his pillow on the ground. He heard a whimper.
"Sorry, Holly," he muttered, getting up and picking his pillow back up. He grabbed Holly and placed him on his chest, and he began to give small licks to his face.
"What do you think, Holly?" he asked, looking down. The toy poodle had simple cocked his head and proceeded to lick his lips.
Jonathan didn't mind. It was the most action he had gotten in years.
Jonathan sighed. What was it that he had said? Let's get to know each other?
He had to admit, he was a little scared. There was a weird vibe around Sherwin, something he would never expect to be surrounding him. It made him feel strong, in a way. It made you want to lower your gaze, may you ever reach his. It was intimidating.
Jonathan had then gotten up and proceeded to finish his homework.
"Fuck you, esmeraldo," he muttered. "You should've retired."
The next morning, Sherwin had appeared on his doorstep.
Sherwin's eyes trailed downward.
Jonathan slammed it in his face, face burning. He quickly ran up the stairs to his room and hastily thrown a white shirt on. Taking a deep breath, he then opened the door again.
"Nice shirt," Sherwin commented. Jonathan felt his face heat up.
"Thanks, um, what are you doing here?"
"I was wondering if we could walk to school together," he said. He held up a piece of paper. "I already got my schedule printed, and we can compare them."
"Oh, um. Sure. You can wait in here until I finish getting ready," he said, letting him inside. He sat on the couch. "If you're hungry or anything, you can go into the kitchen," he said, his throat feeling dry.
When he had finished, they walked to school together. They lived a street away. In the meantime, they had discovered that they had Art, English, and Science together. Once they had reached the school building, they had parted ways.
Classes had passed in a blur to Jonathan. However, he found himself growing more and more anxious as Art approached, the first period he had with Sherwin. He found himself ignoring his friends from the swim team when they tried to talk to him, and he spaced out in class frequently.
He sighed, running a hand through his chocolate brown hair, feet planted in front of the Art room. Deciding to get it over with, he opened the door and took a seat in the back, tapping his fingers against the table. Students began to fill the room, and he closed his eyes when he heard the seat next to him creak.
It was him. He knew it.
"How was your day?" he asked, his voice a tone that Jonathan found quite pleasant. He discovered that he wanted to hear it more often. "It was okay, but let's be real, nobody enjoys school," he responded with a light smile. He opened his eyes.
He thought he would never get used to how much he's changed.
Sherwin shrugged. "I don't know, I think I enjoy it. It's just a bunch of crap that we'll both forget in a year or so, but it's entertaining in a way," he voiced. Jonathan opened his mouth to contradict him, but the teacher had cut them off.
"Hello class, my name is Mrs. Wells and I'll be your art teacher for this semester," a cheery lady said with exaggerated enthusiasm. She continued to ramble about the expectations in the classroom and the wonders of art, topped with a backstory on how she came to be where she was now. A typical teacher.
"She seems a little crazy," Jonathan said lowly. Sherwin overheard him.
"She seems like a good teacher," he responded quietly. Jonathan looked at him. Then he remembered that he was always fond of unique teachers before. He would say that they would be the ones to actually help students reach a career.
"Okay, now that that's over with," Mrs. Wells continued, "I have a small game to play. This will determine who you'll be sitting with for the rest of the semester," she clapped her hands together. Jonathan's ears perked up, and Sherwin frowned.
"Inside your desk is a square piece of paper. Please take that out, along with a pencil." There was a ruffle of noise as students lazily brought it out and placed it in front of them.
"You will have ten seconds to draw the first thing that comes to your mind," she continued. Suddenly the class seemed more awake. "Begin," she started a timer.
There was chaos as everyone drew the first thing that came to mind, and as soon as it started, it was over.
"Great! Now please turn your paper over and bring it up the the cork board we have over here," the students followed the teacher as she made her way to an empty board. "Take a thumbtack and pin your drawing. Once you're done, step back."
Everyone did so, including Jonathan. He didn't even bother to look at what he drew, it was probably a star or something basic. He knew there would be some that drew dicks, anyway.
But when he followed directions and pinned his drawing to the board, whispers began to rise and everybody backed away from him. The teacher clapped excitedly.
Jonathan looked at what he had drew.
It was an apple, and not far away from it was an exact duplicate. He looked at the owner of the other pair.
Sherwin looked up.
