Elven Love (SAA Book 1) ✔

Part Two

(Fanart above. Thank you!) After several minutes of searching for said ''art stuff,'' he came to the conclusion that it was hidden well within only four walls. He'd checked under the bed, in the closet and even the dresser where he stored all of his filthy, unwashed clothes. Clayton then perked up and scurried over to the wooden nightstand, as if something were drawing him to it.

     Inside the spacious area below the drawer sat scattered papers and binders, but he came to find nothing... No colored pencils, pastels, paints, erasers; no art supplies in sight. So, Clayton's eyes had no choice but to look up to the drawer that hung above it. He opened it to find a brand new pack of carved pastels and colored pencils with disgustingly sharp points.

    Next to the packs of tools, he found something else. "What is this..?" he whispered to himself. Reaching forward with unsteady hands, his fingers grasped the smooth sides of a small Ziploc bag. It was filled to the zipper with some sort of heavy sand. It was colored a sickly pitch black instead of the usual gold.

    Grabbing the blue piece of plastic that held the zipper together, Clayton opened the bag and dipped two fingers into the substance. It was soft, yet grainy and rough at the same time. It didn't feel any different than regular beach sand, only barren of any pebbles dug into it by rising ocean tides.

    'I know it's not right to steal,' he thought, 'but what if this is some sort of drug? It could be dangerous. I don't want dad using it, considering I've caught him once before. I have to hide this.' The blond stood from his kneel and gently closed the nightstand drawer. Then retreating to his bedroom in fear of getting caught, Clayton slammed his door to a close and locked it behind himself for his own reassurance.

    'Where should I put this..?' he asked himself silently, turning in exaggerated circles to find the best spot to hide the supposed drug. Sitting the bag of sand next to his notebook, he inclined to saunter toward his bed when his toes rammed into something soft... and plastic. The shuffling sound of sand falling out of a bag rang in his ears and alarmed, he glanced down to the sand that was splayed out over his notebook.

    He blanched, the color quickly draining from his freckled face. "Oh my-- seriously! Are you kidding me?" he wailed, throwing his head back as he dragged a hand down his forehead. He crouched low to the floor, heaving an exasperated sigh. "Now my drawing is gonna be fucked up." he scoffed under his breath as he swiped a palm over the paper.

     When doing so, he realized that the sand had somehow gotten its way into the paper, and stubbornly stayed there. He tried again, picking up the notebook and holding it vertically. He shook the notebook and watched with creased eyebrows as the pages flapped frantically.

    "What the..." he breathed, flicking his wrist violently as the sand refused to release from the paper. Soon, he spiked the notebook to the ground and let out a frustrated huff. "Fine! You win, friggin' drug." he glared at the inanimate object and glanced out of his window. The sun was beginning to set. The world had changed to multiple hues of gold without Clayton's notice.

    The sun merged with the sky, boiling brightly as it illuminated towering pine trees surrounding the house. The clouds were a soft cotton-candy, as though they blushed at the warm touch of the sun. Silhouettes of birds flew home across a sky that was now a vibrant apricot. The mauve of the dusky sky intensified and in an hour's passing, the biggest star had set, giving way to a thousand others.

     The blond rolled his eyes as he crouched down to pick up the bag of black sand. Eyeing it with sharp eyes, he then leered with a glare that reflected the despise he felt towards the bag. After closing it with a silent sigh, he soon stuffed it in a drawer that connected to his dresser.

    "I'll have to draw it all over again..." He scoffed for a second time today as his cheeks grew red with vexation. He leaped across his room and flopped onto his bed, feeling the silken covers and the plush surface below him. As his head was cradled in a fluffy white pillow, he felt all the anger dissipate almost instantly as his mind fogged over in fatigue. He reached up to remove his glasses and soon fell asleep.

  »»————————-««  

     "Hey, wake up." a voice vociferated. "It's almost eleven. If you sleep any longer, your father will scold you." Clayton's face scrunched up at the disturbance as he raised a hand from below the covers. His fingers wiggled as a sign for the unknown voice to flap off.

    With a groan, Clayton dug his nose into the warmth of his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. The blinding light that flooded the room was too strong for his eyes to handle, so he settled with leaving them closed. Then, the mattress sunk down right next to his feet as a hand grasped his ankle through the covers.

      "Come on, please wake up? I don't want to be rude.." the voice pleaded in desperation. Clayton didn't recognize who the sound belonged to, so he finally urged himself to sit up just to please the person sitting at the foot of his bed. Wiping away the sleep-built crust at the ridge of his eyes, he blinked as his vision readjusted to the bright slants of morning light flowing through his window. As he looked forward, his mouth hung open in disbelief. A boy, who he'd never seen before yet so familiar... was sitting at his bed.

      The boy looked to be around his age, watching him with curious emerald crystals, holding a storm of green and white. His cheeks were splashed with freckles that laid over a green that hung below his white-lashed eyes.

His hair was a snowy white, though the tips of his hair were tinted gentle pear as it evenly framed his face. His neck was slim and shoulders were covered in thousands of freckles as they traveled down his arms, over his bare chest and even the back of his hands. The freckles were... everywhere. Clayton's eyes traced back up to the boy's face.

       Behind his hair, twitched pointed ears... Elf ears.

       The reaction was delayed, but Clayton bolted up in bed in a fit of panic. He threw the covers away as he quickly stood with a puzzled look wearing on his face. "Who the hell are you?! H-How'd you get in??" he bombarded the elf with hasty questions, eyebrows raised in alert and eyes wide.

The elf watched him quietly, white eyebrows sitting gingerly over his green eyes. He sat at the bed with folded hands, which were supported by thighs of ivory. He was wearing nothing but a pair of dark shorts that were made of, what at least seemed to be, large fuzzy leaves.

       "I woke up in this room. I was laying on a notebook." he answered delicately, his voice soft and cautious as he looked up at the human through thick, curled eyelashes. He seemed to be preening towards Clayton, which gave the blond an uneasy feeling. "It was very dark when I came to, so it must've been night." he continued to fill the silence. "I hope you're not troubled... I mean no harm, I promise you." That's when his facial expression twisted into one of insecurity.

       Clayton's shoulders slacked. "What's your name?"

      The elf's ears perked up and his brow furrowed with concentration. "My name..? All I can remember is Pyrodomous."

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Thanks for reading Part Two!