psychotic // l.h.

3 - the drawings

“No, you just said it like it was the most serious thing you could have said.” I replied, moving to the counter and grabbing the box of corn flakes. He snickered under his breath and continued with eating his cheerios. I still wasn’t sure about eating the food around here, but I had to, I was so out of energy. So I grabbed the corn flakes and made a bowl before sitting across the table from him.

“You’re going to have to change eventually.” He said, not looking up and staring at his bowl.

“I know, I just don’t have clothing.” I said, beginning to eat the corn flakes. God, I felt like I hadn’t had food in months.

“You could wear my stuff.” He said, and I quickly glanced at his clothing. He seemed to be wearing a shirt that was completely shredded around the neck, whether deliberately or not, it was an odd thing to do.

“I mean, only if you’re ok with that. I think I have some other stuff too.” He said and I think I caught a faint hint of a blush on his cheeks as he ducked his head down.

“From who?” I asked, now wondering if I was going to be wearing the clothing from dead people because if so I was going to have to make an exception for Luke’s clothing.

“A girl I used to know.” He said quietly, not elaborating and I immediately thought the worst, knowing I was going to have to take his clothing.

“I’ll just go with your clothing.” I said, and he looked up, flashing me a small, closed mouth smile. It was a real smile, not the fake ones he usually gave me and it was nice.

“Are you done your cereal?” He asked, nodding towards my bowl. I shook my head and quickly wolfed down the rest of my bowl. He chuckled at how quick I was before taking the bowl and putting it next to the sink.

“I might have something upstairs that isn’t a dress.” He said, and started walking upstairs, me trailing behind. We walked back into the room I could never get used to, the drawings of me were beautiful and I guess kind of tragically romantic I have to say, but I also have to had that they creeped me out a hell of a lot.

He walked to the chest of drawers and rummaged through, picking up piles of clothing and messing everything up, not that it was organized to begin with.

“Luke, how old are you?” I asked casually, trailing my hands along the walls, tracing more pictures.

“Just turned twenty five, I think this might be fine.” He replied, pulling out a pair of basketball shorts and a band shirt. The shorts were practically going to be capri pants on me and a ripped band shirt would cover my butt. But it was better than wearing dead girls clothing.

“I don’t really have anything… pretty and this is kind of the smallest stuff I have, so I guess it might work-” He started rambling, playing mindlessly with his fingers.

“Luke, It’s fine. I can make it work.” I said, smiling slightly at him and he nodded before I grabbed the clothing and headed off to the bathroom. I sighed deeply after entering the bathroom and took a look at the clothing, knowing I would have to adjust the draw strings on the shorts.

Pulling Luke’s hoodie over my body and setting it aside, I practically tore off the remainder of my clothing and pulled Luke’s on. They were surprisingly comfortable and with some adjusting at the waist, the shorts weren’t half bad. The shirt hung loosely and I didn’t even bother worrying about how filthy my bra and underwear were, I was just happy to be in something clean.

I left the bathroom before moving back into the bedroom to find Luke with a pack of crayons open and sitting on the floor, sketching. I walked over and looked over his shoulder quietly, watching him start with the outline of a face. He turned back and came face to face with me, his eyes wide.

“You look… great.” he said awkwardly scanning my body before looking back up at me.

“I don’t think it's my best look but it’s not completely unflattering.” I replied, plopping down on the floor next to him.

“Can I draw too?”

“I-I guess so.” he stuttered out, eyebrows furrowed and I shrugged, grabbing a crayon and beginning to draw.

“What are you drawing?” I asked, looking over at his drawing as he started on the eyes.

“You.” He replied, leaning forward and squinting his eyes at the details he was putting in. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone obsessively drawing me, over and over again but if it kept him sane for a few minutes, I was more than happy to put up with it.

“Why do you draw me so much?”

“Cause I draw what I think is beautiful.” He explained simply, working on an outline of my nose, like he had my face memorized.

“I’ll draw you then.” I replied, beginning to sketch his facial structure in purple crayon. He stopped scratching at the wall and turned to look at what I was drawing as a continued with his jaw. I smiled to myself as he turned back to his work and continued with his drawing as we sat in complete silence.