The head boy

Part 21 - On strike

Disappointment is a bi-...naughty person.

I must admit that I was expecting at least dragons to hide behind this door, the door leading to Tom's bedroom, but no, I should have known better, there's only a bed, a desk, two huge bookcases filled with boring economy books and probably a tome of 'how to be your best tyrannic self' hidden somewhere next to an 'I love horses' book.

I let out a sigh, I can't help it, I thought his unusual bedroom would inspire me with my painting but here I am, in the most basic room ever.

"Is something the matter, Miss Abberline?" I hear from behind me. Yeah it's a thing now, when I come back from the head student's study I go to Tom's room, as agreed, and start painting, as agreed. He usually joins me later on and do you wanna know what he does once he's inside his room? Take a guess c'mon, I'm sure you can guess it's not that hard, yep, absolutely, indeed, HE SCRATCHES PAPER WITH A PEN.

"Not at all, it's just the walls..." I look around and see him look around too in confusion.

"What about them?"

"They're too...dark," It's hindering my creativity. "And the curtains," I finger at those humongous dark brown curtains.

"What?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"They're too...brown," I can't pinpoint it but there's definitely something bugging me about this room.

"I understand, I'll have them changed by tomorrow," What?

"Really?" My eyes widen in surprise.

"Absolutely not, now get back to work, you don't want my poor mom to realise on her birthday that her eldest son didn't bring anything for her and all that because of you, do you?" The manipulative bastard.

"No..." I hiss through gritted teeth and the usual silence settles back in. It's usually like that, I paint, he works, I don't really get why he wants me here in his room, it's definitely not good for my artistic creativity...

***

"You can't do that!"

"Yes I can! Until you accept to let me paint somewhere else I. AM. ON. STRIKE," I stomp out of Tom's bedroom and stumble upon William making his way downstairs, "oh hi William," I flash a smile before walking past him and down the stairs.

For days, I kept painting silly things because this room which could be confused with a morgue is not sending the right vibes, except if Tom's mom wants an early forever departure gift.

"What's going on?" Paul asks before taking a bite of his sandwich. He's been living with us since that night we stumbled upon him in town.

"Eat something other than sandwiches," I chide him and he rolls his eyes.

"What were you two arguing about? And- Tom? Where are you going?" Paul asks and I turn around to see the icy prince wearing sports clothes.

"I need a break from...all of this!" He points at all of us, poor dude, he's not very social and this house is quite full these days.

"I'll be here when you come back! Still on strike!" I call out for him and his jaw clenches in what seems to be fury.

"You..." he hisses before slamming the door behind him as he leaves.

"Is he really going for a run at night in December?" Paul frowns.

"Don't worry, he's not affected by the cold weather and I don't know anyone brave enough to try and assault him," I shrug.

"You make him sound like a superhero, like nothing can ever reach him."

"Because nothing can ever reach him," I nod as I look through the cabinets for something to eat.