You're a Masterpiece (BOOK 1)

Chapter 8

AN: hello, loves!! please don't be ghost readers <3

Art didn't notice how fast exams whizzed by.

They also didn't notice how fast time moved because of how happy they were. September moved quickly. And so did October. Fuck, it felt good to be surrounded by brilliant people. It felt good to be around people that supported them and uplifted their spirits, even when they've only known each other for three solid months.

And it wasn't only their mental health that was doing good, but their report card came back sometime around October. The joy they felt was unmatched—and they twerked in Mama's stunned fucking face. Look who was into the honor roll, bitch! 

Art fucking Mendoza! 

They also didn't suffer much from their mini protest during the debate. In fact, Art suspected that Chase or Shade or maybe even God Himself had something to do with it because their Araling Panlipunan ((Social Studies)) grades came back to them as an eighty. An eighty! They didn't fail! Fuck yeah!

The days were just... blurring together in a good way. They got up at five in the morning. They danced in the shower. (And tried not to fall over themself.) They sang with Mom during breakfast. They went to school. They bullied Shade—if he was in a good mood—and relentlessly teased him. They shared their bad and stupid ideas with Angelito—"let's try to rob the canteen"—and they listened to Shade scold them both before their plans could come to life. They trained with the dance team. They prepared for competitions, and they got yelled at by Coach Luis because they strongly disagreed with his choreography. They wrote songs with their new electric guitar and sent their demos to Angelito so they could hear him scream, cry, and laugh about how much he adored their music.

It was... everything Art only had the nerve to wish for before.

Shit, it felt like they were on cloud nine.

This morning, on the first day of November, Art opened their phone...

And finally decided to block Abby, Jane, and Drew.

Art went on a happy fucking blocking spree. They deleted and blocked their numbers. They finally had the nerve to soft-block from their private Twitter. Art also eradicated their presences from Art's Instagram, Facebook, Messenger, and Tumblr. 

Art blocked and deleted their old friends from every tiny nook and crevice of their virtual presence...

And it felt so fucking good to set themself free.

They timed their release well, too, because they were going on retreat for two whole days with the exact people that made them feel a lot more comfortable in their skin, a lot more comfortable being unabashedly who they were.

They weren't new to the concept of going on a retreat. They've been on ones over the summer with Mom and Mama just to unwind, reconnect, and bond as a family. (Usually at a secluded, tiny resort where Mama's iconic, Olympic-swimmer ass would be unrecognized. And, you know, without the God teachings to it.)

But retreat... as an activity hosted by their Catholic school? An overnight stay at Tagaytay City—one of the best places in the Philippines—to do nothing but pray, meditate, reflect on their feelings, and eat good food?

Fucking hell yeah!

They walked into school carrying a bag full of clothes, toiletries, and a neck-pillow. They smiled and waved to everyone they passed, gratefully accepting palancas. (Art loved that part about retreat culture—palancas. Gifting your friends letters filled with love and good wishes for their spiritual journey was an ineffable type of wholesome.) And they were in an even better mood, too, because was that milk tea on their desk?