𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

⁵⁷precious things

clementine

There's a quite a stillness that only comes when winter arrives; only shows when the season dawns on the city, caking it in snow, and coating the every surface outside clean.

As much as I'd like to enjoy this stillness before me, my toes would freeze off before I know it; so I'm inside with some coffee in a mug much too large for me, sketchbook  in hand, and listening to the faint chatter of the cafe I'm in.

Usually, Everett, who's sitting beside me, would talk my ear off, but since he's brought his own sketchbook, he's decided to sketch the building across. Since I decided to take he and dad a little farther from where we live, he's not quite familiar with the buildings, which isn't really a problem, since he loves to admire new architecture and emulate their figures on the pages of his sketchbook.

Dad is having the time of his life reading away the time in a dark brown leather armchair that has a small rip running down one leg, a hardbound cover resting on one arm, the other being a post for his head to lean on.

Just a few hours ago, my family and I arrived from the resort, having said our well-wishes to the band and their friends before they would leave for tour.

My fingers gently toy around with the thin chain on my collarbones, the tips of my fingers grazing over the stone. A smile comes upon my lips as a recollection of New Year's memory returns to me, how the stone looked darker in the snow, how his fingers felt hot on my skin when he put it on me.

Unexpectedly, saying goodbye to Luke wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. With the assurance that I will see him again, all I can do is look forward to when that time is.

Before we got into our respective vehicles, the embrace he gave me felt as thought it lasted thirty minutes, when in truth, it must've just been thirty seconds.

Much to my fortune, I was able to help Luke pack up, which I took upon myself to sketch a little reminder for him to hydrate, slipping it into one of his hoodies for him to find some time in the future.

Besides that, and besides the point as well, I slipped on a grey hoodie and got to ride away with it on. Though, I'm not sure he noticed that it was his and not mine. Does this count as stealing?

I glance back and forth my sketchbook and the view outside the glass pane, marking down dark spots of where there are shadows and random things protruding out of the snow.

As sketches usually are, it's not perfect. The lines are messy, and one can tell I probably didn't put all my effort into it, but it satisfies me enough to leave it be and consider it finished.

Sometimes, when you finish a sketch and it looks unfinished, you feel the need to continue on and make it the best it can be. Other times, though it's looks unfinished, there's just nothing more to be done as it looks perfect the way it is.

I have a tendency to work the sketch to perfection when I'm sketching people. Faces and their expression have too many details I haven't the heart to leave out. Landscapes and sceneries usually escape that tendency, as they give me more of an impression of free-flowing lines, not feeling the need to look their best, yet simultaneously looking the best they've ever been.

I rest my pencil down on the table and take my phone, randomly going through my notifications and seeing a number of friend requests from Instagram plus a mention.

When I click on them, I'm surprised to find they're mostly fan accounts of 5SOS, and I quickly take a screenshot and send it to Mara. "say sike" I send along.

I look through the dozens of usernames and profile photos I'm a stranger to, all of them having a few things in common; they follow the band and each of their members, and most even follow Crystal and their photographer.