The Artist
An old drabble I found in my files a few days ago. It doesn't mean anything, I swear! It was just something fun I came up with! >//////<"
He couldn't stand it - he had to look at her. Slouching in his seat, he covered his head with his arms and pretended to sleep while sneaking a peek to the back of the classrom. As always, she was chatting with her friend at the back of the classroom, and she was smiling. Hell, she was always smiling. The only time he didn't see her smile was when she was busy scribbling something down in her notebook, usually some ideas for a new story. She was always trying her hand at writing stories, poems, or even rewriting lyrics to any song she took a fancy to.
He had never really read any of them, but there had been once, last year, when he had seen her throw a stack of papers into the class recycle bin. It had been right beside his seat, and it had been all too easy to fish them out to read. They weren't masterpieces, that was for sure, but he'd felt that they had been pretty good. His mistake had been in leaving them on his desk, where she saw them.She had been mortified, and never threw her works into the recycle bin anymore. Instead, they went straight to the dustbin, making it impossible for him to read them.
Feeling bored, he started doodling on a piece of blank paper. Drawing - that was his hobby, his passion. It was the only way he could give voice to his emotions. Every line, every curve had its part in telling a story. And no two stories were alike. Just like what she wrote... His thoughts lay somewhere else as he sketched absentmindedly, his hand already so accustomed to the familiar weight of the wooden pencil and the scratching sounds it made as it did his bidding.
Looking at the paper, he gave a mental groan. He had unknowingly sketched her. Granted, it was only half-finished, but even a fool would be able to see the similarities between the drawing and the real person.
Scrunching the paper up into a ball, he threw it into the recycle bin and, putting his head on his desk, moaned. "I need a holiday. Either that, or I need to see a shrink, because I have got it bad."
He couldn't stand it - he had to look at her. Slouching in his seat, he covered his head with his arms and pretended to sleep while sneaking a peek to the back of the classrom. As always, she was chatting with her friend at the back of the classroom, and she was smiling. Hell, she was always smiling. The only time he didn't see her smile was when she was busy scribbling something down in her notebook, usually some ideas for a new story. She was always trying her hand at writing stories, poems, or even rewriting lyrics to any song she took a fancy to.
He had never really read any of them, but there had been once, last year, when he had seen her throw a stack of papers into the class recycle bin. It had been right beside his seat, and it had been all too easy to fish them out to read. They weren't masterpieces, that was for sure, but he'd felt that they had been pretty good. His mistake had been in leaving them on his desk, where she saw them.She had been mortified, and never threw her works into the recycle bin anymore. Instead, they went straight to the dustbin, making it impossible for him to read them.
Feeling bored, he started doodling on a piece of blank paper. Drawing - that was his hobby, his passion. It was the only way he could give voice to his emotions. Every line, every curve had its part in telling a story. And no two stories were alike. Just like what she wrote... His thoughts lay somewhere else as he sketched absentmindedly, his hand already so accustomed to the familiar weight of the wooden pencil and the scratching sounds it made as it did his bidding.
Looking at the paper, he gave a mental groan. He had unknowingly sketched her. Granted, it was only half-finished, but even a fool would be able to see the similarities between the drawing and the real person.
Scrunching the paper up into a ball, he threw it into the recycle bin and, putting his head on his desk, moaned. "I need a holiday. Either that, or I need to see a shrink, because I have got it bad."
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