𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆 ➳ 𝗯𝘆𝗹𝗲𝗿

chapter six

the chatter and often bickering between partners can be heard throughout the classroom, brainstorming their project ideas.

well, all the partners except mike and will.

will stays seated at the front of the class, persistent to avoid mike's burning gaze.

he knows it's childish, stupid, even, but he really doesn't want to work with the egotistical asshole staring at him from the back of the class.

so, he keeps himself occupied, taking out his sketchpad and continuing his work from the night before.

yesterday, while the weather was still slightly crisp, will visited that same field of sunflowers he always came to when he was little.

he missed the designated spot, knowing it always comforted him when he needed his mood brightened, so he came with his sketchpad and earbuds, hoping to find some peace. which he did, illustrating his surrounding while listening to his playlist.

once the chorus of sofia by clairo started playing, he hummed along, letting the music drown out his senses.

i think we could do it if we tried
if only to say you're mine
sofia, know that you and i
shouldn't feel like a crime

now, he continues the sketch, drawing out the familiar details of the field; the tall, bright, saffron yellow sunflowers; the dirt, a dusty, hickory colored surface; the shining sun, casting a golden glow on the flowers; and the dazzling sapphire colored sky, whispy, porcelain clouds marking the area, preparing for a stunning sunset, with blends of lilac and rose.

that is, until mike peeks over his shoulder, snatching the sketchpad out of his grasp, 

"ayo, sunflower boy, you gonna work with me here?"

"sunflower boy?" will queries, already annoyed.

"oh, so you can speak." mike asserts smugly, that same smirk finding it's way back on his lips.

"well, obviously, you know that. now give it back." will demands, trying to snatch the sketchpad out of mike's grasp, which isn't working too well, considering that he's holding the object up way too high for the brunette's reach.

will gives up, knowing he's making a fool out of himself, standing at 5'4 on his tippy toes, trying to get ahold of his sketchpad from the 5'10 teen's firm grip.

"fine, you win. whatever." will sighs, sitting back down, "i'm not here to play your games."

"who said i was playing any games?" mike prys, taking the seat next to will.

"you are, mike," will huffs, "does this get you cool points or whatever?"

"what?"

"you know what."

"i'm not-"

"i'm not getting involved."

and with that, with the sketchpad back in the short brunette's reach, he brings it back to his desk, continuing the sapphire blends of the sky.