ethan dolan imagines

he sketches//one

this is actually an imagine that i'm afraid will flop:( but it's worth a try, i got the confidence lmao

risk it

uNeDiTeD

Your POV
"he only sits outside after school just to draw, there's nothing much about him to like," my friend says, lazily picking up her phone. i give her a confused look. "he's a really shy kid, the only thing i see him do is skateboard with his brother and friends, and sketch stuff around him, he's weird."

"he's weird?"

"he just doesn't like talking to other people, he only just sketches outside, but he is a really talented artist," she says. "i stalked on one of his works, he's pretty much committed to that stuff."

i shrug, thinking about him. i've seen him, leaning against the tree under the shade, spending blank pages and pages of his book sketching things that pop in his mind. he's different, he's unique, he's really something.

his eyes peer down deeply at his work in front of him, clearly in a whole other world, so no one bothers to speak to him.

i never caught his name yet, i don't have classes with him, but i would always walk out of the gates of the school to find him sitting on the grass. he's an independent person with an imagination probably no one else has. and he would sometimes look up at me as i pass him, his eyes sinking into my soul as if i let him in already. and my eyes would gaze into his oblique ones, mystery lies in them.

i asked my friend about him, curious of him, but who wouldn't?

"he wouldn't talk to you," she said before the bell rang, then i leave her to get out of school. my thoughts roar angrily, i was thinking about going up to him to talk to him, but now that my friend tells me this, maybe i'll just feel embarrassed.

i walk outside, my eyes searching to find the tree that shades him from anyone and fences up his mind. then i see him, sitting down calmly, but my eyes then wander to a group of guys, clearly stronger than him, snickering and shrinking the distance between them and the boy distracted by his own sketches. i feel my pulse shrivel into dust, my legs now speeding up.

my worries drown out the sounds of them surrounding him like he's some prey. and soon i see his book in the air.

my legs manage to sprint to him, my heart breaking just seeing this shy boy not bothered to do anything, already allowing the guys overpower him like he isn't human.

and my eyes feel pain when i hear many awful things being spoken to him as he sits there doing nothing. and then i shove a guy with all of my strength, this guy ending up bumping into another one of his once-cheering friends, catching his attention. "leave him alone," i spoke, not even knowing what to do since i've never really done this for anyone.

but they laugh, leaving suddenly, making me surprised, but mostly surprised when they smacked his hard work in pages on the grass, my gasp barely able to be ignored.

i pick it up, the boy following behind me picking his work up too. "thank you," his voice, deep and smooth, yet mutter, made my heart jump.

"i'm sorry that they did this to your book," i say clearly dazed by how delicate each page held, the sketch telling a story, each deep stroke of his pencil sends chills down my spine. "these are beautiful."

"no they're not," he mutters, doubting himself. my eyes still are gazing upon a page.

"no they're magnificent," i said looking at a page that was a girl, smiling brightly and proudly, but an illusion to something dark and depressing that lurks in her like liquid tar. story is short and clear; she's lying to herself about her happiness. "this one's really well drawn."