Bad Together

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Rosalie Jenkins

It took a while before I managed to calm him down after his anger got reeled up again. The reason behind his anger this time was because I had finally mentioned that I didn't live where I had told him I did.

He still didn't kill me though.

He just followed me through my messy house until I got to my room. We stood in the middle of the small room just staring at each other awkwardly.

Is he just going to watch me like that whilst I get my things?

"My room is a bit outdated...I don't really like the colors." I murmur, trailing my eyes around the room and I instantly cringe when I see the childish toys sat on my windowsill.

Shit, this is embarrassing.

My hands clench around the fabric of the loose fitted shirt I am wearing, tugging it down as I shift my feet in embarrassment.

I am 17 and I still have toys in my room is that normal?

He bites his lip as if he is trying to fight a smile. I know he is trying not to make me feel embarrassed, but it's clearly not working. Not knowing what he is thinking about making it worse, he's always expressionless.

"Green is nice." He nods, finally looking around the room.

His eyes didn't have any judgment in them. He just stared and accepted. When his eyes finally met mine again, I stopped breathing.

I really thought he was going to say something bad but he didn't. No judgment.

With a slight blush, I walk into my closet to pack some clothes into a black bag. Green is nice.

What the hell does that mean? Or am I just looking too far into it. Knowing me, I probably am just making shit up in my head.

I pack my clothes and neatly fold it into the bag as I try to do it as fast as I could. I didn't like leaving people in my room whilst I am not there with them.

I have nothing to hide, I just don't like my privacy being invaded.

Packing the last item, I walk out of the closet as I zip the bag with my one hand that seemed to be having difficulty trying to find the damn zip. It can't have just disappeared.

"Okay I am re—"

I stop dead in my tracks with my eyes wide open in fear as I see what he is doing in my room. I was more scared of his reaction rather than anything else. It's stupid of me to leave it out for anyone to see, so maybe it's my fault.

"I can explain." I begin to stutter in need to explain myself before he lashes out at me.

His finger tips trace the outline of the canvas as he stared down at it blankly. I couldn't quite tell what he was feeling so it made me feel more anxious.

It's stupid anyway. It's just a stupid drawing that I shouldn't of ever drawn. It's meaningless, not even art. And I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to draw his eyes in my sketchbook.