art teacher [muke af] [completed]

{ : 03 : }

Luke's P.O.V

    I walked into the class room, people smiling at me "Hey" A girl walked up to me, she was tall- obviously not taller than me, "I'm Gracie" Her clothes where provocative, her boobs spilling over the top making me cringe.

     "Good for you" I grumbled walking past her to my work station, there was a note stuck to it, I looked around pulling the note of my empty canvas 'quiff' we all know who wrote this 'stay after this lesson, i have to discuss some matters with you' I crumbled it up just as michael walked into the room.

     His eyes landed on me, I threw the note on the floor making a point to him. It was funny because I like him but I had this constant desire to stand up to him, He may act tough but I could tell he wasn't the dominate.

     "Let's get started" He spoke, "Quiff! wanna come to the front of the class for me" Michael used his index finger to motion for me to come forward, I sighed walking up the front and standing next to him "You'll be our model today" He smirked obviously getting me back for yesterday.

     "Clothes off, you'll he posing in your underwear" All the girls oohed and the guys groaned. I was reluctant to take my flannel off knowing it would reveal my scars.

     "Fine" I grumbled, I took my pants of first, some woof whistles erupting. I took a deep breathe slowly unbuttoning my flannel, I wasn't insecure about my body or even the scars just the fact that people would judge me. The red flannel fell off my arms, someone gasped. There where a lot, all over both my arms. The result of clinically diagnosed depression.

     I looked up, Michael's eyes on my arms seemingly interested in the pattern "Sit on the chair, Blondie" He cough. "This will be a challenge, you must use structure, the changing shades of skin on the arms will help built your skills with blending" He nodded to my arms.

* end of the class *

     "Quiff, stay behind" He called, the class slowly leaving until I was the last person there "I'm sorry for making you model considering your arms" Michael certainly wasn't overly sympathetic towards me, I liked it.

     "It's okay," I mumbled collecting my things "I don't care if people see my scars, they aren't a secret. You've got your own from what 8 can tell" I had noticed Michael scratch his wrists, not in a normal way. In the way a healing cut itches, reminding you of it's presence.

     I had experience that feeling to many times, "What makes you believe I hold my own scars?" He raised an eyebrow, his hand instinctively coming to scratch his cut.

     "You scratching, it's annoying right?" It was strange that we had started a conversation based on such a untouched subject.

     "I would like to enrol you in private classes with me twice a week, stay after class every monday and wednesday" He grabbed his bag walking toward the door, before he turned the corner he stopped for a split second and smirked before disappearing.

     I scoffed grabbing my belongings and walking out secretly anticipating our private lessons.