Picture Us

Chapter 11: Keefe

As Tam left excitedly, Keefe was left alone. He still had destructive thoughts, urges to drink everything away, but Tam being around so much he couldn't find a single moment to leave without him noticing.

He was alone now, but for some reason he didn't lunge at the opportunity to punish himself, instead he made his way towards his room. Mess was strewn around; paint was smeared over every imaginable surface and in the corner was his canvas. He had been holding off from finishing it with Tam around, the thought of Tam seeing it and not being satisfied with it was daunting.

The canvas had barely been made a start on, his only defining features mapped out were his face and bangs, a camera held up to his left eye, and a small smile creeping onto his face. He squeezed his eyes closed as he pictured Tam, the lighting, the colour of his face, the angle his head was tilted at. He angled the canvas towards the window, piping small dots of paint onto his already colourful palette.

He brought the brush to his canvas, hesitating as he contemplated whether it'd be good enough. Keefe took a long, deep sigh, and began to paint. Long beautiful strokes of colour slowly added to his face, refusing to forget a single detail on his face, he closed his eyes again. Having a photographic memory came in handy when it comes to drawing and painting.

Everything was crystal in his mind: the way Tam's face looked in the sun, how it lit up his stormy features, the surprise in his eyes when someone spooked him, Keefe could've sworn his eyes turned a little more silver, the rare smile that Keefe had seen only a couple of times before... it was etched in Keefe like a prophecy.

Keefe's hand was as steady as a surgeon's as he added the silver to Tam's eyes. He almost streaked the canvas with silver as Tam himself walked in.

"What're you doing?" Keefe hissed, angling the painting away from Tam. Tam huffed, folding his hands.

"Enjoying time in my dorm, which I paid for with my money." Tam said. Keefe rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," Keefe said, feeling himself tremble as he lifted his brush.

"It's such a mess in here," Tam remarked distastefully. "How is more paint on your clothes than the canvas?"

"It needs to be perfect," Keefe groaned. Even with his annoyed tone, his heartbeat sped up.

"What are you painting?" Tam asked casually.

"Nothing!" Keefe said very un-casually, hovering over the painting.

"Can't be that bad," Tam snorted. "Hmm, wait, it might be."

"Ha-ha," Keefe said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned to add another stroke to the painting, when Tam stealthily peeked at the painting. Keefe shrieked, turning it so Tam couldn't see, but it was too late. Tam had already seen it. Granted, it wasn't a great view, but enough for Tam to tell who it was.

"That's me," Tam said, and Keefe didn't know what the appropriate answer was.

"It's for the assignment." He said, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"It's really good." Tam said, stepping to look at it but Keefe blocked his view. Tam threw his hands up. "Alright, whatever."

"I have to get a good grade," Keefe said, echoing the sentiments he'd been carrying.

"I doubt you'll get anything under an A," Tam said. "It looks like me but... concentrated."

Keefe squinted at the piece. He had taken some creative liberties. He'd accentuated all of Tam's most prominent features. His jagged bangs, his piercing eyes and the sharp jawline. Now that he thought about it, it really looked like Tam.

"That's a good thing," Tam clarified when Keefe stopped talking. Keefe shrugged.

"Thanks," he said nonchalantly, but he was feeling anything but nonchalant.

"I'm going to walk around the campus for a bit," Tam said, and maybe Keefe was imagining it, but there was a rosy blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah," Keefe cleared his throat. "See you later."

"Bye."

Keefe covered his face with his hands and slapped his forehead, Tam was clearly embarrassed by his painting... Did he not like it? Did he think it looked bad? He began to push the canvas back into the corner of his room, planning for it not to be touched for another eternity.

He took one final look at the painting; he squinted his eyes trying to catch out what was missing.

Why do I care so much? He's just a dude I used to hate.

"Problem is, I don't hate him. I've painted my friends before and I wasn't so hung up about what they thought... Or what they look like" he breathed shakily. He curled the ends of his hair around his finger.

Is Tam just a friend though?

Keefe furrowed his brow, resting his chin on his hand "yeah, he's just a friend who helped me. Plus, I'm still so hung up about Sophie, it's only been two months..."

Tam had kept Keefe from throwing his life away time and time again, he's basically a glorified babysitter. Obviously.

He collapsed onto his bed, paint smearing slightly over his clean-ish sheets.

"Shit" he sighed, snapping back to reality. Slightly annoyed, tearing the sheets off his bed he kept wondering why he cared so much about Tam's opinion, every time he found his way right back to having feelings for him.

"I just find him a really supportive friend!" laughed Keefe, "a great role model... A really nice person?" plus, Keefe was straight, always had been, he always knew he liked girls, he doesn't like guys.

Right as he was slipping back into his thoughts, the door flung open, Tam walked in swiftly. Keefe looked up, Tam was smiling awkwardly.

"Wha... What's the smile for Tammy boy?" Keefe straightened up, met with a confused stare from Tam.

"I talked to my sister... It had been a while" he smiled, fidgeting with the pocket of his pants. "Do you...want to meet her sometime?"