𝐈𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Now you see me for me
And my beautiful scars
So take my hand
And don't let go.
-Avicii

TWENTY SEVEN

WILLOW

  The object in my hands was so foreign, yet so beautiful and perfectly aesthetic. I was so marveled at the perfect artistry contained in such a simple object, it made my eyes water. Tearing my eyes away from the crafted flower vase, I managed to look at the boy who was now seated directly opposite me on the slide in the playground of the school.

"Since we were bringing gifts, Evan made one specially for you", he'd said while we walked to the playground. I found it a bit weird how he had mentioned himself in third person, as though he was a narrator, but my curiosity was at its peak, as he'd refused to let me have a glimpse of it until we were seated.

Which we are now.

"You know, you could just take a picture instead, it'll last longer" he said, lifting his eyes from the stones he was picking in his palms to look at me.

I didn't even know what to say. I just chuckled a little at his statement, looking away from him to the side momentarily, as I was sure his gaze was still fixed on me. Okay, maybe he was a little bit cute, but definitely not my definition of swoon worthy. He looked like a small boy.

"Actually," I finally spoke, making him smile a bit. "I'm in shock. You really carved this yourself?"

"It's an old skill. One of my cousins taught me actually, when we were what? Eleven?", he shrugged nonchalantly, going back to the rocks he was picking. For someone as freakishly neat as the boys described him to be, he seemed to enjoy the sand, as he was sitting at the bottom of the slide, a greater part of his joggers and feet in the sand.

Watching him for a while, I decided to speak. He didn't seem to want to be the conversation starter which was odd, considering he was the one who wanted to speak to me.

Abi he was suddenly shy? Unlikely.

"So, why me?" I had to ask. I watched patiently as he stopped every motion, slowly trailing his eyes up from the sand and to me before finally raising his head so he was staring directly in my eyes.

I had to admit, he had this gaze. One which was hard yet soft, a blank, yet full gaze, one that could make you tremble in fear, yet speak volumes about what he really felt. Yet, there was this unreadable mask which blanketed his eyes, as though he really had no feelings whatsoever.

"Why you" he asked more like a direct statement to me, his voice maintaining that usual cool impassiveness. It wasn't exactly a question, yet I knew he demanded an answer.

"Why did you make this?" I started, looking into his eyes in search of the slightest emotion, but I found none. "Why did you make this for me?" My words were carefully spoken, a hope in my heart that I wasn't getting ahead of myself by assuming he'd made the vase with me in mind. Although he'd said just that.

"Firstly, I'd like to say I don't lie" he punctuated that statement with a blink, or I was just over dramatically imagining that his blink spelled full stop. I nodded in response to his statement, not buying it at all but deciding not to press the issue.

"Secondly, look at it". That was a direct order from Evan, and I found myself obliging, shifting my eyes from his penetrative gaze down to the white baked clay vase in my hands.

"What do you see?" His question came soon after, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion.

What did I see? I saw an intricately sculpted case. It was beautiful, it was perfect. Yet, I didn't understand what he was driving at.