Poisoned Waters | ✓

|𝟐𝟗| "𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞"

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫...

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 the eraser along the jaw of his animated sister sketched onto his wrinkled notepad, Noah grunted. It was the fourth time he was redoing her chin and the deep lines of his 2H pencil were gradually becoming tougher to remove.

"Norah, you have to sit still if you don't want your head to look messed up." Noah raised his eyes to his younger sister who was perched on the chair in front of him. The natural midday light was glistening along her cheekbone and brightening the smile she tried her hardest to keep alive.

"Well, I can't hold this smile for much longer, man," she replied through locked teeth.

"Well then keep a straight face."

She decided on that. She relaxed and rearranged her jaw to hold a simple stare with a hidden glint of a smile. "This good?"

"It's great," Noah responded, preoccupied with erasing her whole face. He knew if he looked at her, she burst into laughter completely.

He brushed the shedding off of his notepad and then finally glanced up. Norah had closed her eyes, in hopes that it would keep her at bay from losing her composure. It was working.

Noah drew the outline of her draw and then sketched her fluffy hair in a low bun, making sure to show how it struggled to stay hooked behind her ear. He glanced up and then traced the lines of her nose and her protruding top lip, ensuring to accentuate the point cupid's bow. He rounded her lips and then marked the start of her chin.

"You can open your eyes now. You just need to keep your eyes on me." he finally spoke and lifted his eyes.

His gaze focused on his sister who opened her eyes and met his hazel eyes. They watched each other for a moment, Noah trying to use the time to visualise her features. Though as a few seconds went past, the siblings struggled to keep their composure, bending over with hysteria.

"I can't do it, Noah, I can't!" she guffawed, gasping for breath. Noah couldn't hold himself together either.

It was pure enjoyment. Noah's family had been running for a while now, they were feeling nothing but fear and paranoia. His mother had finally found a safe shelter not too far from their home in north London. It was ten months after the virus had hit the world, the authorities had already given up on the public and never disclosed what was actually happening.

The dead was walking and everyone was eating each other, it was enough to tell people that survival was the prime objective. But as the two siblings laughed together, Noah realised that it was the lightest he had ever felt since it all started.

Noah lifted his jovial eyes to his sister. She giggled and sat back onto the stool. "Joke ting, man. Okay, I'm ready now." Norah pushed her shoulders back and lightly grinned.

•

"I don't get how your sister did it, Noah," Monet started, trying not to move her mouth too much. He raised his gaze, taking another look at his muse posed in nothing but her black underwear on a stool. "My cheeks are aching."

"You're not even smiling," he laughed. She cracked into a smile and began chuckling.

"Damn, thanks," she rolled her eyes. "Are you almost done? This loft feels colder than usual." She soon slouched in her pose, feeling even more self-conscious than usual by her exposed chest. Noah closed his sketchpad and dropped it onto the floor beside his stool.