The Lucky Switch {Gream/DreamNotFound}

A Rough Sketch (4)

~~~

Rain drummed steadily against the windowpane. A determined cold seeped through the closed window but George didn't mind it. The boy was sat on his neatly made bed, watching the droplets cascade down from the slate grey sky.

He sighed, lying down and staring up at the ceiling. George listened to the rhythmic tapping, the sound reverberating slightly off of his bedroom walls. Memories from yesterday made their way into his mind. Him and Clay laughing uncontrollably in the paddle boat on the canal, him and Clay quietly watching the rain fall from the safe haven of the empty gazebo, him and Clay looking at the city view from the top of George's flat building.

A smile slowly worked its way onto his lips as he thought about the previous day. George fumbled around for his phone, suddenly eager to check if he had any missed messages. To his dismay he was met with a blank screen, devoid of any new notifications. His smile faltered slightly at the sight. He shut off his phone stubbornly, resisting the urge to text his new friend.

There were other people he could message, though George just wasn't in the mood. But it was a strange feeling, being alone. Especially since he had basically been surrounded by others for the past couple of weeks. He supposed he would have to get used to the nagging feeling of loneliness.

George suddenly felt restless so he stood up and made his way over to his desk, hunting for something to do to pass time. His eyes quickly scanned over his things before finally landing on his forgotten sketch book. Feeling a sudden burst of nostalgia, he traced his index finger down the old leather bound spine.

It had been too long since George had sat down and truly worked on a picture rather than just making random doodles on the corner of a napkin. His hand twitched involuntarily at the thought of drawing something. He shot a longing glance towards his lucky pencil.

Maybe I could just do a quick sketch. George caved to the temptation, grabbing both his pencil and the book out from their hiding spot. A feeling of familiarity settled over him as he ran a hand over the piece of blank paper. He tried to clear his head tonthink of a topic but it was useless. His thoughts were all about the day before, or more specifically, the person he'd been with.

Clay's folded sweatshirt sat next to George on the desk. He had reluctantly taken it off to clean it so he could return it, leaving it on his desk. It still vaguely smelled of vanilla even after it had been washed. George eyed it briefly, deciding on an idea.

He shut his eyes, visualizing the waterline of the canal. His hand moved the pencil across the page, the lines forming the basic shape. Carefully, George added shading to give the water texture. He was so focused on his task that he didn't even hear his phone buzz.

An hour passed, and the boy was adding the finishing touches to the sketch. He picked up the book, admiring his handiwork. For once, he was actually happy with the end result.

It was of the canal. In the center of the page, the paddle boat was floating in the water. Clay was sat in the center of the boat, his head angled up towards the sky. Behind him was the top of the London skyline and the tall trees. George had been careful to keep the picture as realistic as possible. He smiled proudly at it.

Suddenly his phone vibrated again, startling George and causing him to bump his knee into his desk. "Ouch," He mumbled, reaching for his phone. "Stupid desk."

The screen displayed two missed texts from Clay. George smiled again, forgetting about the pain in his knee.

Clay: Hey

Clay: Are you doing anything right now? I'm helping Layla finalize her floral arrangements and I desperately need a break

George chuckled at the text. He imagined Clay cluelessly staring at various bouquets of flowers.