Crown-less Kings

Time drags when you're depressed

Two weeks of narrowly avoiding Rey. Two weeks of insisting Reagan and Riley come over to my house. Two weeks of Marvin giving me looks in the hallways. Two weeks of feeling like my body is heavier than it really it.

Sheppard has told me nonstop that this can't hold me down and to 'get over it' like I always do. My mom has told me it's for the best and 'there's other fish in the sea'. Reagan and Riley have told me that this can't lead my life and 'you two need to move on. You being depressed makes us depressed too'. 

All of them fail to realize that I can't help but feel like this. Rey was different then all the different boyfriends Sheppard knows about. Rey was like a lost treasure under the sea. They act as if I like feeling like this. I like laying in bed reviewing all the memories I had with Rey.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair at Reagan's text.

Reagan: Wanna come over? I bought baby canvas and we can paint like true artists ;)

I can't keep avoiding the Dyke house like it has the plague. I have to accept that my best friend's brother happens to be an ex. They're still my friends.

I wander into the living room and see my mom watching some mystery show. 

"I'm going over to Reagan's. She wants me to paint or something with her," My mom nods so I leave, cutting across the grass divider of the two house, trying to ignore the car in the driveway. 

I open the heavy front door and climb up the stairs. I hate how I freeze at the door that hides the person I have grown so fond of. I bite my lip, my heart pounding, and stomach dropping. 

I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath before continuing to Reagan's room. I push the door open, and see Reagan sitting on the floor with a trash bag, a canvas the size of my hand, and a paper plate with paint tubes. 

"Um, Picasso?" I close the door behind me and sit criss cross in front of her.

"Oh! Okay, good you're here. Let me get the other canvas. I saw these at the store and I was 'omg that's adorable I wish I was creative' so I bought it and here we are painting like Vincent van Gogh."

And then she opens the tubes of paint and squirts some on the paper plate. I like when she does things like this because painting sounds good. I can't help but wonder if she's doing this to distract me.

"Did you get brushes or are we finger painting?"

Reagan cringes, "Um, yeah. So it only came with one. Either you can use it or we can both finger paint?"

I smile at her absent mind, "Finger painting sounds good. I miss kindergarten, actually. When we got to take naps during class."

Reagan sighs and dips the tip of her pointer finger in red. I keep smiling, and dip mine in the yellow, carefully rubbing it on the top corner of my canvas. 

It's pretty silent, but not awkward or uncomfortable at all. For nearly twenty minutes, Reagan and I paint outdoor scenes without fingers. We actually paint similar pictures, large flowers. 

"We are so good at this. Why aren't we in museums at this point?" Reagan giggles at my question and I smile.

"I know. It's good seeing you smile again," And that makes my smile falter, "Oh, I didn't mean to make you lose your smile. It's just that I've missed your upbeat energetic smile. We kind of all miss it."

I lick my lips and let my shoulder's fall, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. It's just, I guess I've been in a funk. I didn't mean to make anyone else depressed with me,"I let out a weak laugh.