Late For French - (Fransykes)

Chapter 34

A/N: Hey lovelies, its been a long while and I apologies for my absences. I just haven't been motivated at all lately and I find myself doing different things in my free time recently and finding new hobbies which isn't writing anymore. So I have decided it's about time to bring this story to an end soon, maybe 3 or 4 more chapters to go? I'll see what I can come up with but I have dragged this story on long enough and I just want to finally finish it! I hope you will all stay with me til the end because I'd hate to let it see go abandon and I want to give you all a completed product which you have all loved very much over the years. I hope you all understand and I hope you enjoy this chapter that has taken me forever to write! ❤️

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Sometimes you can love something or somebody so much that people will think you're crazy. The thing is, most people love the wrong things; In a world where everybody wants millions of dollars or likes on the internet, there was a boy who gave up everything, because all he wanted was him.  - Machine Gun Kelly

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Oliver's POV

"Oliver, you have been standing in front of your canvas for forty five minutes and still haven't painted a single thing."

My blank daze is broken from the sound of the disappointed voice from behind me. I blink back into the misery of what's called reality and duck my head slightly away from my overenthusiastic art teacher.

My gaze shifts back to the bare canvas that I have been staring at blankly since the start of the lesson. Not a single drop of paint has touched it, the overpowering dullness of the white canvas screaming out to be a work of art. Even though I already had a paint brush in my hand, I just hadn't had an ounce of inspiration flood into my creative mind to create something magnificent what is to be expected from me.

I hoped something would eventually pop up and so I waited, and waited and waited, but I guess nothing came to mind. Usually, my canvas is dripping with every colour of the damn rainbow, my uniform covered in splattered oil paints which later would lead to my overreacting mother lecturing me about the stubborn stains that she struggles to wash out.

But today, my world is far from the beautiful colours of the rainbow. Those vibrant colours which once took a dominate role in my personality have now completely washed away, like rain drops sliding down on a window, leaving me colourless in this dark miserable world.

"The task is quite simple Oliver, express how you feel dear," Miss Snow highlights as she did at the start of the class. "What's going on inside that head of yours?"

Her question was supposed to be encouraging, I guess. You know, get the cogs in my head to start turning for ideas but it only reminded me of how much of a disappointment my pathetic little life is. I understood today's assignment I just couldn't find anything to paint sadly.

What am I feeling? Does she mean the same unexplainable numbness that's been festering inside of me for the last two days now? Because if so, then nothing. I haven't been able to feel anything for the last two days since... since it happened. No bubbling anger rising deep within like usual, I haven't even shed another tear since the night he abandon me on my door step.

"Nothing," I whisper barely audible. "I-I feel nothing."

How could I paint my feelings when all I feel is complete and utter emptiness? There's just this hollow hole which sits in the bottom of my stomach, remaining empty. Everything is just a fuzzy blur. There is no colour palette to my story anymore- the bright fun colours have faded out leaving me with nothing. No black or white, not even a mix of grey. He was my awarding pot of gold waiting for me at the end of my rainbow, but now it's just a disappointing lump of coal.