MCYT Oneshots

Art • Skephalo

ahaha that's actually my art at the end

Bad enjoyed making art.  It was a side hobby he had enjoyed since childhood but he hated his work.  It was never satisfying to finish a piece.

Ever since high school his parents had always held his art at a ridiculously high standard.  He was never outwardly told that his art was good.  He was told "that looks weird" or "you can do better".

This has made him extremely self conscious about his work.  Everyone has told him that his artwork is great but he has started to not believe them.  The outcome just isn't worth it.

So here he is.  It's mid-day on a lazy Saturday.  His boyfriend is curled up, sleeping on the couch while Bad is seated with a pencil and sketchbook on a nearby chair.

His strokes are lazy as he draws what folds before him.  Long strokes for his messy, sleep ridden hair.  Short quick strokes shading in some of the empty space. The drawing was nearly complete but something felt off to him.

Normally he would feel, happy and excited that it was almost done but instead he just kept erasing and fixing it over and over. Still nothing felt right. Bad was starting to get angry now. His strokes were becoming more aggressive as he got more and more angry. The grip on his pencil tightened when suddenly a loud snap was heard.

Skeppy shot up from where he was peacefully sleeping on the couch to face where the sound came from.  His face turned to bad, red faced and breathing heavily.

"Dude, are you ok?"  He asks, voice still groggy with sleep.  With that bad broke down. Tears stained his face with a shimmering trail, wet and warm. Skeppy slowly walked over to the crying man and crouched before him.

Bad hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his sketch book close to his chest. Bad continued his sporadic breathing until he was just a tear-stained mess.

"What's bothering you," Skeppy began, pausing to wait for an answer. Bad shook, white knuckling his sketchbook. He looked off into the distance but anyone within a 6 meter vicinity could tell that his gaze could kill.

"I hate it," Bad began, periodically stopping to catch his breath. "I'm never fully happy or satisfied in my work. I get jealous and doing what I love doesn't bring me happiness anymore."

Silence envelops the room. The tension is thick enough to be cut with scissors. Skeppy makes the first move and reaches forward for Bad's sketchbook. Bad reluctantly lets it out of his grip and into the hands of the man in front of him.

He thumbs through the pages, not looking for anything in particular but skimming through the pages. One noticeable thing is that much of the artwork is of him. Of Skeppy. Skeppy playing minecraft, his concentration and lightheartedness fills the page in glorious balance. Skeppy watching dumb youtube videos in bed at 3am. The dark and light clash in overwhelming mixes to create the perfect drawing. And the most recent one. Skeppy sleeping on the couch. His resting face and his messy hair. It's obviously not finished but it's beautiful nonetheless.

Bad is shaking like a leaf on the small sectional while his boyfriend slips through the pages. Skeppy finally looks up and smiles, grinning a big toothy grin just for bad.

"I love them," Skeppy says in an excited manor. Bad turns to look at him. The tears momentarily stop and his face lights up with pure joy.

"Really?" Bad asks. 

"Really,"

Skeppy is quickly engulfed into a hug, the warmth radiating onto each other.  For the first time in a while bad took a deep breath, smelling skeppy's gentle cologne.  And with a soft voice three words were uttered.

"I love you."

634 words