ʟᴏᴠᴇꜰᴏᴏʟ • An individual who is in love with their significant other but they are not loved back. They long for love from the other person and would do anything for him or her.
. 𖦹˙- 𝜗𝜚
"ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴄʀʏ, ɪ ᴘʀᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʙᴇɢ
ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ
ꜱᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ...
But because I knew exactly what I was gonna end up painting.
...which was worse.
Um.
'Should I do semi-realism...? Or maybe something more abstract? But oil pastels sounds good... it would make the painting feel more vibrant... but I already bought materials so...'
I sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, a thin beam of afternoon light spilling through the window and stretching across the canvas like it was trying to claim it first. The smell of paint lingered in the air, faint but familiar.
I dipped my brush into the paint palette absentmindedly, the bristles of the brush getting coated in the color.
Pink.
Of course it was pink.
It was always pink.
I told myself I should paint something else for once. A field of roses, maybe. The park outside. The pigeons that kept bullying each other near the café. The museum down the street.
Anything else.
But somehow my hand still moved on its own.
The first stroke was careful, the second was softer.
And before I knew it, the shape was already forming.
A face.
And a suspiciously familiar one, at that.
I leaned back slightly, squinting at the canvas.
"...Seriously?"
I had only started ten minutes ago and it was already obvious who it was.
Alexis Ness.
Again.
"This is the third time this week," I muttered to myself, tapping the end of the brush against my chin.
Tuesday, by the way.
I keep asking myself, is this an addiction? Infatuation, perhaps. Probably already bordering on obsession.
Anything but the real reason.
I dipped the brush into a lighter shade, dragging gentle strokes across the canvas.
His hair came first.
Soft strands painted in messy layers, the color almost glowing against the white background.
Then his eyes.
I paused.
For some reason, those were always the hardest.
Not because I didn't remember them.
Actually... that was the problem.
I remembered them too well.
Soft.
Caring.
...deep.
His eyes staring back at me like I actually mattered. Like this whole situation wasnt a dream. I was actually talking to him, he was my friend, we were close.
My brush hovered for a moment before finally touching the canvas again.
I painted the way his eyes curved when he smiled. Not that polite smile he used around other people. Not the passive-aggressive one he used when greeting the other players. Not the one when he looked at... him.
The one he shows me.
The one he sent in the pictures that I asked (or more like demanded) him to as an excuse to "prove he wasn't AI". The one that he wore when I asked for a picture claiming it was for references purposes only (which was now framed and part of my Ness shrine).
The one that made me stare at my phone like an idiot for five minutes afterward.
The one I see.
I leaned back again once I finished the eyes.
The painting wasn't complete yet, but it was already enough.
Beside the floor next to me, my phone buzzed, the previously dark screen now lighting up with a familiar name.
—
Ding! 1 notification from: Lex 🤑 :Practice just ended.
—
'He texted!'
I smiled before even opening the message.
///
IM SORRY I TRIED anyways, short filler
Btw our prom just ended last month and i won face of the night like what🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
i would put a pic up in here but ion wanna get exposed so...
ill see u next chap 😊
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