u p h e r e ↬ m.f. & s.m. [completed]

WRITE

CHAPTER SIX

Sat. 17th September 2016

"I like art, and by art I mean music, poetry, sex, paintings, the human body, literature... All of this is art to me."

- Hunter Reveu

„You still clutch to that bottle of wine?" It was more of a rhetorical question than one you ask to get an answer. Jack walked out onto the roof with a beer in his hand, sitting next to Mark on the ground.

"It's the essence of my mind and my heart." He laughed, taking another sip out of the bottle.

"Of course it is." Jack let out a chuckle, looking back up into the night sky. "Why did you want me to come here?"

Mark gave him a confused look; as if he wanted to tell trough his eyes that he should know the answer. But as he looked at Jack, the boy had his eyes still focused on the sky above them, not paying any attention to him. As he got so lost looking at his friend, he almost forgot to answer his question. "We need to work on the art project."

A smile spread across Jack's face, facing in his friend now. His smile seemed to grow even bigger as he realized Mark had looked at him. "I know that, dum dum. I want to know why you wanted me to come here. Last time we were up here you didn't seem to be happy about me being...here." His voice grew sadder as he finished his sentence.

A moment of silence followed, the only sounds that were made, where the gulps of the boys sipping on each of their drinks. Though, both of them knew, that this should be an uncomfortable situation, in which one wanted an answer to a question he did not really asked, and the other tried to find said answer without revealing or destroying emotions and feelings, none of them could bear to find the moment uncomfortable. Two souls, sitting on a rooftop under the night sky, drinking alcohol; this moment was too cliché to feel strange.

A sigh. "Well, first of all; at the moment I'm not talking to myself, thinking that I am alone. And second of all, I know you better now and it's nice here."

You do? Jack asked himself but kept quiet.

"And this location is just perfect, if you want to get creative. Which we should 'cause I need to pass art class."

"What's our topic again?"

"Nature."

"And what kind of art do we need to do?"

"We can decide."

"Well then..."

"What?"

"What's art?"

Mark looked at Jack with eyes wide open, just before he drank, what seemed like, half of the bottle of wine. "Dude, I just thought that we draw something and put dried leafs on it, not solving a mystery." (this is literally me when somebody wants me to be creative)

"Or you could write something about nature."

"It's art class."

"Yeah, and literature is art, dum dum...can't we go inside again? It's getting cold, autumn's really coming early this year, man."

Mark looked down at the ground. "We go to yours?" he asked.

"What? Why? I don't want to walk all the way and I don't feel like jumping...again." His eyes looked over to the abyss next to them. Mark was still facing the ground letting out a sigh. He really did not want Jack to come to his place. It was a mess, and he would not want to wake up his father or little brother. But eventually he gave up, realizing that Jack probably would not care anyway.

***

As Mark turned the key inside the lock and a small click sound spread across the floor they were on, he looked at Jack once again, who smiled and raised his eyebrows, trying his best to make a stupid face in hope to make the other boy laugh. Suddenly Mark felt really stressed out and it truly surprised him that the other boy could bring him to laugh just as dearly as he now did. He pushed the door open: "Be quiet. My dad and my brother are asleep" Jack just nodded.

"My room's straight down the hall", he whispered, pointing at the dark wooden door at the end of the hallway. "I go get something to eat out of the kitchen." He rushed into the room right next to the entry. Slowly Jack started walking again, making his way to Mark's room. As he did he looked around the small apartment. It was the size of his own, but he lived alone and couldn't even imagine that a whole family needed to find place in here. He saw 4 doors, including the one of Mark's room, and one other room that did not have a door. As he walked past said room, he looked inside , seeing a man laying on a bed-couch in front of an older looking TV.

He nearly jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, but immediately relaxed as he saw Mark's face in the dark. "It's my dad" he said. "The apartment hasn't got enough rooms, and my brother doesn't want to sleep in my room, so he always sleeps on the old mattress in the 'guestroom' and my father takes the couch." Again Jack only nodded not knowing how to response as both boys were walking into Marks's room.

After he closed his door shut again, he turned on the lights revealing a slight mess of a room and 2 sandwiches on a plate. Offering one of them to Jack "I figured since you buy me burgers so often, I could make you something to eat for once."

Taking the sandwich, he laughed and looked around the room. "I don't get why you were so afraid of me coming here.", he sat down on the bed, which squeaked as if it would break. 

"Don't act as if this is a nice home."

"I don't need to act, I like your room." He stood up again and walked around, looking at the posters on the walls and the papers all over his desk. His eyes got caught on postcards, hanging on the wall right above the desk. "Who're they from?"

"My mom"

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Mark, who was facing the ground again. "She lives in Italy with her mother, she always sends me cards 'cause she ain't got enough money to visit us."

"That's sweet.", and you could hear the truth with which Jack spoke out that sentence. "Let's make our art project about that."

"About what?"

"Italy. And you can write about your mother. Something about how humans belong to nature or are a part of nature, I don't know."

"And what's your part then?"

"I draw something and you write your story on it?"

"Sounds great."

"We've got one week, better start now." He smiled, hoping for Mark to finally write something happier than the poems he once read in his notebook.

***

words:1.134

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lmao

this was a mess

I'm sorry for the 3 people who still read this shit

I finally updated the description btw