Matching Rings [h.s]

75

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

The past couple days came and went faster than I can even process. It's Christmas Eve already and I woke up so fucking sore you'd think I ran a four tier marathon.

Last night in a spur of the moment decision, Niall insisted we go out and buy a Christmas tree.

Niall told me that he and Jim haven't celebrated Christmas much in the past years he's been here, and I've never gone a year without celebrating. So we thought it would be a good idea to at least decorate.

After dragging a cheap, sad looking tree we got from a little home owned yearly pop up, we spent all night decoding it with these very old ornaments we found in the very back of Jim's garage.

Apart from our hardworking night of making the living room look like Santa threw up all over it, the couple lazy days I had was nothing out of the ordinary.

I got majority of my schoolwork for the break done, the only thing I have left is the semester art project. And I'm currently sitting on my bedroom floor and brainstorming ideas for once again. I can't seem to think of anything that isn't boring.

Liam and I only had a couple phone calls here and there to discuss more about Louis' birthday celebration, which is later today. I have to go pick up a cake on my way before meeting up with everyone.

We're meeting at Harry's apartment, which brings my next topic of interest— Harry. Obviously we haven't spoken since I left his apartment that one morning. I've kept myself controlled and haven't reached out to him at all, and neither has he— which I expected.

We all know how much self control that guy has, ignoring me is nothing.

I have to pick up the cake at four, which is the time that everyone is supposed to meet at Harry's. I'll be a couple minutes late, but that's fine I'm sure no one will care.

It's one right now, and I should start getting ready around three. So I have two hours to finish this project before I hate myself for putting it off for so long. I know I won't do it tomorrow since it'll be Christmas and I'll be way too busy stuffing my face with food, and then with new year's just a couple days away, I definitely won't do it then either.

I have a notepad laying in front of me— for the blueprint before I lay it on the canvas, a pencil and eraser to my right with the canvas and some watercolor I picked up from the art store sitting on top of it.

Everything is blank, I haven't started the blueprint, or even have an idea.

Well, I did have an idea. I even started drawing it, but the paper ended up being crinkled and thrown across my floor. It was of a butterfly, one fairly similar to the one inked across Harry's chest— which was just a coincidence. But I hated how basic it was, I'm sure half the class is going to draw a butterfly— I could do better than that.

I really want to do something where you would have to read between the lines of the essay to understand the whole idea. Something that can represent me or something I stand for, it must have a meaningful message behind the simple picture.

I start sketching lines in the notebook in hopes for something to spark an idea. I want to get my creative juices flowing, maybe I'll form something in the nonsense lines and create something angelic to follow the theme.

As I sketch the curve down, longer on the page, it still looks like nothing more than a line. I create a hook at the end, curving the already curved line and following back up to the top— it kind of looks like a finger.

I keep going, allowing the pencil to go where it wants and not overthink where the led lands.

Drawing more and more curves and hooks, longer and shorter similar lines— it starts to look like a hand. There were no details, but eventually there was a really badly drawn outline of a hand.