Art

A fragment of the past

December 16th 2014, Monday

        I smiled as Devon said the words I was hoping he'd say, and finally opened my eyes to look at him. He was looking down at my fingers which he'd stopped playing with. I knew a million thoughts were probably swimming around in his head, one of them probably being: I shouldn't have said that.

        Devon obviously had a problem with opening up his heart or trusting other people, so admitting he actually missed me was probably the worst possible thing he could have said.

        The fact that he'd known me for the space of a week and I'd already found out so much about him probably didn't help either. I could tell he was used to shutting himself away from others so the fact that I had gotten him to open up so quickly probably confused him.

        Not to mention I'd made him do stuff he normally wouldn't have done. Like play in a game of snowy beach volleyball.

        I wanted to know the reason why he was afraid of opening up and allowing himself to be happy. I wanted to know who made the scars on his back and I wanted to know why he made the scars on his arm.

        I wanted to form a friendship with him, something he was probably not used to. Although I'd only known him for a week, the little information I'd found out about him deeply intrigued me and I just wanted to somehow break him out of his shell and make him happy again.

        The painting he'd made for me was part of the reason I decided on breaking him out of his shell. It was obvious that he wanted to interact with others and not close up, but whatever happened to him in the past kept on stopping him, making the wall he'd built up stronger.

        All I needed to do was break that wall somehow.

        And being friends with him was probably a good way to start.

        I twisted my hand around in his until I was the one playing with his fingers, causing him to finally look at me.

        "Will you visit me tomorrow?" I asked him, knowing when the children came back, talking to him would be impossible. I wanted to ask him many things, most of them involving his past.

        My mum had told me I had to take it slow with Devon but I couldn't. I'd never been the type of person to sit back and watch others suffer and I'd already decided that I was going to get Devon to open up before December ended.

        He stared at me for a long time, thinking of a way to answer.

        "We never did continue our art lessons." I put in, hoping that mentioning art would somehow spark his interest.

        "Would I not bother you?" He asked me and I slowly shook my head, even though that hurt.

        "I want you to come." I told him, still playing with his fingers and he looked down, his hair falling over his eyes. He slowly nodded and I grinned, taking my hand away from his and closing my eyes again.

        "Bring supplies with you tomorrow would you?" I asked him, feeling sleepy. I struggled with staying up, remembering the promise I had made to the children. I could hear Devon leaving the room.

        "They'll understand if you sleep you know." He said, causing me to open my eyes again. He smiled briefly before leaving the room and I closed my eyes, taking his advice.

        I woke up a few hours later, to see that it was incredibly dark outside and it was snowing again. I pressed the bell near my bed, alerting one of the nurses I was awake. A nurse came in moments later with food and she helped me sit up, placing the tray carefully on the counter by my bed.