Under The Moonlight

Chapter 8

Raven was gone when I woke up. I glanced at the wall clock surprised that it was only five in the morning. Dragging my aching body to the bedroom, I wondered how and why Raven had left so early. 

I looked across the room and was even more astonished to see the lights on in Raven's room. What was he up-to? It was the weekend. Surely whatever had to be done could be done after the sun had risen and when we weren't shrouded in darkness.

This time, I decided that I would surprise him. Trying to sneak out was hard for my uncoordinated self. Landing on the cold porch with a soft thud, I sneaked upto his window ready to scare him when I was stopped by the sight in front of me.

Pure awe.

He had a smudge of blue paint over his cheek. He was extremely focused as he swirled his paintbrush over the canvas, jutting his lower lip out. Wherever the paintbrush landed, magic was created. Vivid colors came together on one single sheet and I was star struck. How could someone be so imperfectly perfect?

"Wow." I gasped as I saw the portrait come to life. He whipped his head around in fright, holding his brush as if it were a sword. There were multiple dots of paint splattered all over me but it did not matter. What mattered was the art in front of me and of course the artist as well. 

"You painted a portrait of me?"

He tried to cover the canvas with his body, cheeks flushed. 

"Why are you here, Seb?" 

"Is that really me?" The painting was anything but monochrome. There were dashes of blue, green and red and it made me seem  like I was an other worldly being. I looked more than the ordinary guy I was. I loved it.

"It was supposed to be a gift. I had the inspiration." He gave in, moving so that I could view the painting clearly. 

"It's your birthday tomorrow." He continued, trying to brush of the awkwardness. My birthday had never been a big deal. Since I didn't make friends easy, it used to always be my family spending most of the day together. So for me to receive something as precious as this, made my eyes sting. 

"Thanks Raven. I love it." I said, and he gave a grin.

"It's not done yet. So scram while I complete it." 

I did not budge. I just stood there, arms by the window pane waiting for him to start working again. 

"I never knew that you painted."

"You never asked. Also it's not something to brag about."

"Not something to brag about? Have you seen your work Raven? I might not know much about art but what you're doing takes a lot of skill, not to mention talent. That painting is breath taking and that's partly because the subject is me, so you can't take all the credit but we can ignore that for now."

He laughed, seeming more at ease now. 

"Do you want to come in or do you want to freeze outside?" 

I took his offer and pulled myself into his room. Apart from the canvas and the paint set, nothing seemed out of place. The walls were bare, again making his room seem empty and lifeless.

"I'm not allowed to decorate the room. My parents want the house to look sophisticated. I wish I could mess my room up a little though. The order of everything makes me go insane sometimes."

I could see why he felt that way. It felt like such an alienated way to live, if that made sense. He turned his back towards me going back to painting and I propped myself on his bed, trying not to distract him. 

I must have drifted off to sleep because the last thing I could remember was the sounds of the brush moving against the canvas and the smell of paint wafting in the air.

I jolted awake at the sound of an alarm ringing. The room was bright and tidy again, the painting set nowhere in sight. Raven was not present as well. 

Deciding that it was better to go back home than to stick around, I opened the window, the cold breeze nipping at my skin. One leg out the window followed by the other, I settled down on the dewy grass. 

I heard a cough and found my dad staring at me in mild astonishment. Right. I was sneaking out of my neighbour's slash best friend's room looking like I had the roughest night in my life. He chose not to comment about it and kept gardening while I made my way back into my home. 

When I was safely inside the confine of my room, I felt my soul leave my body. My heart was pounding and I couldn't understand why. Why did the way my dad looked at me make me feel like I was caught doing something wrong? 

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