One Shots

Beautiful boys and pencils (Perrentes)

This is really short, oh well

***

The boy walked into class, his eyes downcast. He was chewing on his lip, not looking up from the books in his arms. The calm shyness radiating off of him was enough to tell me that this boy was beautiful.

Maybe I was being ridiculous. Maybe this boy didn't want to be noticed like I was noticing him. Maybe he wanted to go unknown.

But art never goes unknown. Art will be noticed, unless you shut it away in a sketchbook that no one will see.

I watched him sit down at a desk on his own, taking out his binders and pencils. I watched his hands. I wasn't trying to be creepy here, but I just loved the way he moved. It was wonderful.

I looked back at my binder that was covered in scribbles and pointless doodles. I was the farthest thing from an artist, but at least I was fun. I doubted this boy would talk to me. I doubted he would acknowledge me.

But as fate had it, he dropped his pencil and it rolled over to my feet. As cliché as that was, I couldn't help but thank whatever forces out there. I picked up his pencil, handing it to him. His eyes met mine.

"I'm Mike." Was the first thing that slipped out of my mouth. I had no filter. I'm a fountain of words, none of them very intelligent either. I didn't know why that was. The boy smiled a little.

"Tony." He took the pencil out of my hand. Tony had a great voice. I liked it.

"Are you new here?" What a stupid question.

Tony nodded, "Yeah."

"Knew it." I said and Tony smiled a little.

"Yeah." He said and the the bell rang. I moved back to my desk and Tony turned to pay attention to the class. I never paid any attention, so I thought about Tony. I thought about other things as well, but mainly Tony. And not the type of thoughts you'd think I'd have about a beautiful boy.

No, I just thought about how nice his voice was and his really good choice in pencils.

I planned on talking to him again. But not just because he dropped his pencil.