Melting Hearts | ✓

f r o z e n║x

 f r o z e n ║x

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It was past ten o' clock and I could barely keep my eyes open, the only thing that did so was Macy's chatter beside me. I only really hard half of what she was raving on about, but it was nice to have something to keep me awake. My hand was moving nearly on its own now, filling in the lines of the sketch I'd finished.

Suddenly Macy stopped mid-sentence and gave me a look. "What are you so smile-y about?"

I shrugged, even though I knew. Well, I guess I didn't really know--I couldn't explain it at least. I felt so good to be drawing things that made me feel infinite again. It felt good to be back to drawing feelings rather than just empty shapes.

I wasn't even sure where everyone was anymore; I couldn't even remember the last time I'd looked up. I needed to finish this before tomorrow and give it to Mr. Wades; the contest was the day after tomorrow. I still felt a twinge of fear that it might not be anything like the judges were looking for. Maybe they were looking for cute little pictures of people riding bikes or wispy hair blowing in the wind--if so, I was more than screwed.

I hadn't even noticed that I was done, until I was signing my name on the far corner. I slipped the pen behind my ear and held back my work to examine it. It really was amazing. I hoped to do Oliver's photograph some glory.

"Are you going to sleep now?" Macy asked, yawning. I couldn't really understand why she hadn't gone to sleep; she'd been yawning non-stop for the last hour or so.

"Yeah," I stretched, "Maybe I'll go show this to Oliver first, see what he thinks."

Macy agreed, climbing up to her bunk this time. I watched her crawl under the blankets as I carefully got up with the picture. The ink was probably still a little wet and I really didn't need to ruin this, so I held it up from anything that could damage it. I walked to Oliver and Abigail's bed, but only Abigail was there, hunched over a book.

"He's in the bathroom, the doors open though." She directed me, not even looking up from her book. I whispered a quick thank you and hurried over to the door.

I stood on my heels and peered in before entering. He was sitting with his back against the wall, across from the toilet. He had his camera on his lap and was pushing buttons. I let my hand fall on the door frame, tapping it a little.

He looked up, and smiled softly. "Yeah--sure, come in. I wasn't really doing anything--"

I giggled whilst coming in. I closed the door behind me too, this needed to be private. His eyes were glued to the shut door; a spark glistened in them for a moment before he looked back at me. I flipped over the drawing, which I'd had facing my chest.

"Ta-da!"

Oliver's expression was surprised at first, and then it slowly got warmer. He smiled for a second, and then patted the tile beside him. I lay the drawing carefully on the counter and slid down next to him.

"Do you like it?" I asked, "I'm sorry if you didn't want me drawing your picture, but it was so nice. I had to."

He looked to me again and whispered, "I really like it.", but something told me we weren't talking about the drawing anymore. I shook off that thought as soon as it came.

"I'm really tired." I said, verbally trying to excuse my thought.

"I am too,"

In an awkward few seconds we were both standing and making subtle eye contact. Oliver jumped for the door handle first, opening it wide for me to step through. I grabbed the drawing and nodded, smiling, stepping out and going over to my bed. Oliver switched off the light behind us and closed the door. I saw Quinn making faces at us, raising her eyebrows and stuff. She knew it wasn't like that.