The Counselor

Chpt 7. The Heart

Matthew sat hunched on the stepstool, glaring at the stretched paper on the chipped easel. "Blank, just as all the craps I give about this class."

 He grumbled as he bent down to the ground to scoop up a multitude of colors on a piece of wood. Taking a brush from the easel he then dipped it into a black and dunked the color into a cup of lipid water. "Alright," He straightened himself and closed one eye," Here, we go."

The brush stayed a few inches away from the paper, his fingers shook the brush causing the color to splatter onto his dark blue hoodie. Peering at the stain he dropped the paint and other tools, "Just got to clean this first." He mumbled. As soon as he set his foot down on the wooden floor there was a SLAM!

Gabriel thrust the door behind him, why would The Counselor do this? Sure, while he sauntered through the halls about to ask Him a few questions he heard one of Matthew's fatal flaws: He sucked at art. It was laughable; this kid was terrible at basically everything but art. He did laugh as soon as The Counselor repeated Matthew's phrase.

"Sir, I might not have a right to say this, but can't you give him better art skills?" The Counselor admired the small pot of flowers someone put on his desk, it became a daily occurrence since spring was around the corner.

"I could.... but," The Counselor glanced at the angel, a small smile painted his lips. "What if I didn't want him to have artistic skills, hm?" Gabe took a step forward, "But sir, it's art, couldn't he teach himself to paint or at least draw a line?"

The Counselor nodded, "Anyone could do anything if they wanted to, and that's the problem." He walked around the desk and once at the front leaned his hands on the mahogany, "He doesn't have any desire to obtain those skills."

Gabriel shrugged," I don't think he wants to obtain any skills for life, are you sure he's not suicidal?" He raised an eyebrow, The Counselor nodded.

"He needs inspiration, he needs to feel that he can do it, and I know exactly who can help him."

Which is why he had obtained a pass from his study hall teacher to the art room. As soon as he stepped into the room the smell of liquid thinner and sweat made him want to gage, surrounding the white walls there were framed photos of past students and famous quotes from artists from around the globe. He remembered how the teacher Ms. Gossamer didn't care for a clean classroom and just let the kids decide if they didn't want to step on crumpled paper and dry paint on the rainbow-splattered floors. He sighed; he didn't want to waste 45 minutes teaching his sad roommate how to draw a stick figure but it was what The Counselor wanted.

"Hey, you better not be trying to escape." Matthew froze, head whirling he meet Gabe's glowing orbs, and he forced out a small laugh, "Yeah right, why would I try to escape your excellent tutelage?" Slowly he placed himself back on the stool as Gabe walked over to the easel, he glanced at the paper," There's nothing."

"Of course, I know that idiot, it's just, uh..." his voice trailed as now Gabe's eyebrow raised once again and his arms folded over his Phillies t-shirt. He became silent.

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