Something About Him

Bubbles

--Oliver--
Someone talked to me! Someone talked to me today! Of course, he was new and maybe he hadn't heard what the others say about me but still! Maybe he won't find out about them. Maybe he won't believe them even if he does. Oh gosh I hope so. He seemed very nice, if a little snarky and sarcastic. But, in his defense, Alfred was being rather rude, interrupting him like that while he was introducing himself. He even liked my drawing! Oh this is quite exciting I'm so happy that-
My train of thought was derailed when someone ran into me. I looked at who it was that had ran into me, and he was shaking.
"I-I'm s-sorry I didn't m-mean to run I-into you l-like that," It was the boy from Latvia in my chemistry class. I didn't know his name but he always seemed so nervous.
"No it's okay, it was an accident," I said, offering him a smile.
He looked ready to scream when a taller boy, presumably one of his friends came by and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from me. As they turned and left, I could just barely hear the taller one look to the smaller and say, "What have I told you? That boy is trouble. He's out of his mind- do you want him to hurt you?"
Sighing, my earlier happiness diminished a bit. I walked to my next class with much less vigor although the boy from Advanced Lit was still on my mind.
Specifically his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen. They were like emeralds, cut to the perfect size and placed inside his head. They were the kind of green that made you stop and think about flowers and the forest and long-ago dangerous adventures deep in the wilderness. His eyes were the kind of green that made you think of the forest at night, cold dew on your face, hidden treasure in a damp cave deep in the ground. His eyes were the kind that held secrets, too. And I wanted to know what they were. Very very badly.
But, until I could see his eyes again, I settled for just thinking about them as I wondered to my next class.
Stepping into my favorite room in the entire university, I smiled to myself, inhaling the happy smells of paint and pencils. The teacher, Mr. Vargas, stood at his own painting, brush flying wildly around the canvas, but in a controlled way. He was my favorite teacher. Although, he was just as shaky and dismissive to me as the other students and teachers were, he was kind and eager to help when he could. Other students at least. He, along with everyone else, went out of their way to avoid me. But it didn't bother me much. My friend will come. One day soon, they'll come. And they will be great, and I will love them. No matter what.
Taking a seat in my usual corner, I pulled out one of my sketchbooks, the one I use for colored pencil drawings, and began sketching as Mr. Vargas called attendance. Raising my hand when he called my name, I continued my drawing.
I drew an eye, a green one, partially covered by yellow-blonde hair and framed in soft white skin. The green wasn't the right shade, not at all. I gently covered it with a dark blue, and then mixed in some darker green too, trying to achieve the right shade. I could never get it perfect, however. But that is art. I see something that isn't perfect, yet the person looking at it sees something beautiful. The thought made me smile.
Even if something isn't perfect, even if something has mistakes, someone else can still look at it and say, "I love it."
I suppose people are like that too... I suppose thats what love is. Not looking past imperfections, but seeing those imperfections. All those little eraser marks, the spots that are not quite the right color, the place where lines overlap, where color goes outside the lines. Looking at all of those things and still loving them. Not despite of them, or because of them, but because those are things that make you unique. That make you, you.
Mr. Vargas traveled around my desk, hovering for a moment before gasping.
"Oh, Oliver, this is so beautiful!" He said, looking at my sketchbook.
I smiled hugely, and my eyes must've been wide. "Wow- thank you Mr. Vargas," I said. He smiled and then strode away from my seat quickly.
Two people talked to me today that is just- that's crazy! What a day!
The rest of the day went by without anything else exciting, the day just as ordinary as any other. Until I walked into my last period study hall, which was in the library.
The boy from earlier, the boy with the forest eyes, he was right there. Seated right in my usual corner seat, reading again. Excited and a little nervous, I walked over to him. Tapping his shoulder, I dared to speak to him. "M-may I sit here?" I said, gesturing to the seat next to him. "Most people don't sit this far in the back, and I always do," I added, hoping I wouldn't scare him off. He tore his eyes from his book and shook his head.
"No I don't mind at all, go ahead. I prefer sitting away from the crowd as well, actually. It's easier to think," He said, drawing his eyes back to his book.
"Thanks," I said. My hands shook from nervousness.
Okay okay, don't mess this up. This is your chance. He could be your friend.
I took the seat and curled my legs up under me, getting comfortable. I pulled out the sketchbook from earlier and my colored pencils and began adding more to the eye and hair, focusing intently. Now he was right in front of me, so I didn't need to try and remember what he looked like. Now I could actually just look. Careful not to let him know I was looking at him, I sketched. Didn't want him thinking I was strange. Didn't want to reinforce the rumors. But I broke my green pencil. Huffing a bit, I set my sketchbook in my seat and walked to the nearest sharpener. When I got back, I found the boy holding my sketchbook. He must've heard my footsteps because he turned to look at me and then abruptly dropped the book into the chair.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to go snooping or anything, it was just sitting open in the chair and I glanced over and saw it and I was curious- It's really beautiful," He stammered out.
Shrugging I picked up the book and sat back in my seat, looking at him. "It's your eye," I said. "And that's why it's beautiful. Had nothing to do with my art skills," I added, truthfully. He blushed wildly and tried to hold back a smile.
"W-well thank you, That's lovely, but why uh- why did you draw my eye?" He asked.
"Because you have beautiful eyes. They're Intelligent and deep, and they remind me of emeralds and forests and flowers and hidden treasure," I answered. "I liked them,"
His eyes widened and he sat back in his seat, setting his book down. He thought for a long moment before replying.
"Th-that's ridiculous," he said finally. "Eyes don't hold such things,"
"Yours do,"
He looked at me again, that wide-eyed confusion back in his face. He seemed to debate something with himself before shaking his head and returning to his book. After a moment I spoke again.
"Why do you do that?" I asked.
He looked up. "Do what?"
"You always think before you speak. That seems very controlled. Why do you do that?"
Again, he gave me that confused look. "Well, because that's what you're supposed to do. "Think before you speak." Have you ever heard that?" He looked at me as if it was simple.
"I have, but why do that? Your best thoughts, and your most honest ones come when aren't thinking about thinking. When they just flow out you. Like water out of the tap or on a waterfall. Or like a river. When you think before hand it gives you a chance to change your answer to what people expect from you, rather than what you really think," I said simply. "And that makes your answer dishonest."
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite place before he shrugged, returning to his book. "Perhaps you're right, but I haven't learned to do that yet," He stated.
I nodded and then we sat in silence for the rest of the study hall, he reading and I drawing. It wasn't uncomfortable in the least, but my heart raced the entire time.
I just had a conversation, a full, real, conversation. With a person. I can't help but feel that this is the beginning of something- something exciting and new and beautiful.
My stomach was in bubbles when the final bell rang. The boy turned to me and waved. "Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then," He said. "Nice chatting with you,"
I smiled at him in return, and nodded. "You too," I turned to leave but he called after me.
"Wait I don't know your name!" He said.
"Oh. I'm Oliver," I called back.
He gave me a small smile that sent my heart soaring before I turned and walked away, heading for home, whispering a quiet "Thank-you, Luna," to the sky as I stepped out of the doors.
Today was a good day. A very very good day. And that boy- what was his name? Arthur.
Hm... Arthur. A simple name. But a strong one. It fits him, he looks like an Arthur. I hope he doesn't think I'm strange. I hope he wants to be my friend. He seemed lonely, too. But I don't think he's the type to admit that he's lonely. Maybe... Maybe he needs a friend too.
Could I be his friend?