To Better The Shattered; Scott McCall [2] ✔

2.50 Matt; A Bonus Drabble

He'd always thought she was beautiful. It started out as a simple appreciation, like a fine painting or sculpture, an objective interest but little more. He wanted to take pictures of her, have her be his model. He wondered several times if she would be okay with that.

He couldn't pin-point the exact moment his feelings had grown, morphed and twisted into a strange obsession with the perfect brunette. One day she was just someone who sat in front of him in history, and the next she was the only girl he could imagine ever being with.

Imagining a relationship with her was easy. They would go on dates, hold hands, maybe kiss, but nothing more, not until later. He would treat her like a princess, better than anyone else had before her. Better than her boyfriend, better than all of the other boys that wanted her. He was the only person who could truly appreciate her for the way she shined.

He got his chance eventually. Not to woo her completely, or even ask her on a date, but to talk to her. They'd never talked before.

She stood next to him, at her locker, and she wasn't paying him any attention. He was used to that, they didn't run in the same circles, but he'd always enjoyed watching her at her locker. She'd been sad lately. He knew that her relationship with her boyfriend had crumbled only weeks before the death of her aunt. It must have been hard for her; she'd already lost so many people.

He caught a glimpse of a dress hung in her locker, and he understood that it was for the funeral that afternoon. She was grinning down at it, the crooked one that made his knees weak, and he wished that that smile was directed at him.

And then it was.

He floundered for a moment, thinking, before saying a quick, "Nice dress."

She shrugged, like the dress wouldn't make her look even more enticing than she already did, and he noticed a note in her hand. Was that what made her smile? "I guess it's okay," she allowed. She nodded to the camera strapped over his form. "Nice camera. It looks pretty expensive; are you into photography?"

She was talking to him, asking him questions. This was a full-blown conversation. They were conversing! He could feel his eyes widen, feel his mouth dropping, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they were talking now. They were one step closer to the future he'd already played out in his head. "Yeah, um I mean I'm pretty, uh, passionate about taking pictures."

He was pretty passionate about her.

"Of, like, nature and stuff?" she asked, and she sounded genuinely interested. Genuinely interested in him.

Of you, he almost said, but he didn't. He couldn't come on too strong. "W- yeah. Not people, or anything, though. I would never take pictures of people without asking them, you know. I'm not, I mean-"

She cut him off with an easy smile, like they talked like this all the time. He wished they talked like this all the time. He could spend days in only her presence and he'd never get bored of her smile. "I get it," she said. "You like taking pictures, and a lot of people get tetchy about it because they think you're filming them. Some people are really judgemental like that."

"Yeah."

Was it bad to begin their relationship on lies? He would tell her soon, about the pictures, about his plans, about what he felt for her. But not yet, not until she was ready, until he knew she wouldn't leave him.

They were silent. A few girls interrupted them then, talking about her aunt, like they knew her, like they knew anything about her. He could have killed them for making her feel so bad. Then she was walking away, and his window was gone.