To him, rhythm is the pattern of music. To her, rhythm is movement on a page.
JATP season 1
[reggie x female oc]
[alex x male oc]
Disclaimer: I do not own Julie and the Phantoms and the associated characters. I own all original characters and orig...
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"Leave me alone. I-I need to be alone."
Warnings: physical pain, mentions of a car crash and associated effects, bad parents, language. Read at your own risk
TODAY is not a good day for Justin. He had tried—he really did—to focus on going to school, but his mind always returned to Jess alone in the attic. That being said, he did give up on the day about five seconds after getting up. Luckily, he's a good actor.
His mother left for a half-day of work, claiming she had to go in for a few hours but promising she'd come home early to make him some warm soup. That left just him and Jess who he hadn't seen since movie night. He isn't surprised that he hasn't seen her, but it does hurt a little.
He texted Julie to say that he was staying home, hoping she'd be fine on her own at dance class that day without him. That had elicited a call to make sure he was ok. He hated lying, but he promised Jess he'd cover for her, and he can't exactly explain why he's staying home if he can't explain why he can't leave her.
It's been a slow morning. He took his time getting up and stretching before he made himself a cup of coffee and some breakfast. It takes an unusual amount of time to wash his dishes; he knows he just doesn't want to get on with the day, but he has to.
Walking up the stairs, Justin pauses just before the door to the attic. He knocks but doesn't get an answer. After a few seconds, Justin slips in, quietly closing the door behind him before he slides down the wall to sit next to three boxes full of Jess' notebooks.
Jess furiously scribbles on a large white canvas with tears slipping down her cheeks and her face scrunched up in pain. Her left hand is completely covered in charcoal as she maneuvers it across the canvas, despite the awkward angle it sits in on her wrist. Instead of standing, she spins the canvas around to reach the other corners before starting to draw once again. Papers cover the attic, most crumpled or ripped apart with unrecognizable images.
As quietly as possible, Justin says, "I know you don't want to talk, but I'm gonna be right here, ok?"
She does not respond. She doesn't even look up.
Justin spends his time looking through Jess' completed notebooks, finding pictures of the place he now calls home and school all over. She had drawn everything from the gym to the bathroom as strange as it seems. Pictures of people Justin has never met fill the pages of one notebook while another is simply landscapes of Hollywood from the same spot but obviously on different days with the sun in different positions.
