blue ✓

two

h a r r y

She wore a faded pink sweater today, the sleeves too long for her small arms and the hem tucked into her ink stained jeans. I wanted so badly to hold her covered hands, feel the tips of her fingers and how icy they were on this cruel cold day.

Usually I would look at her from afar, watching her write or read under the oak tree, or listen to her talk to her friends during math class with glee in her voice. Today was different, she sat next to me in the art room with her eyes boring into my soul. She wore metallic red eye shadow around her eyelids, rimming her lashes in black to bring out the blue in her eyes. Her lips were chapped today, the dry weather obviously taking its toll on the red bitten lips that were smiling so beautifully at me.

She was watching me intently as I showed her my movements with the paint brush within my fingers, I was so distracted so my teachings were lame this cold day, but she didn't seem to notice at all. She just watched like an intrigued child watching fireworks.

I gesture for her to repeat the movements I just showed her, she nods her head and concentrates on the brush in her small hand. She was trying her best to mimic my technique but couldn't grab the concept very quickly, I debate on how to help her.

Touch?

I imagine how it would feel if I placed my fingers over hers, the cold seeping into my warmth. My heart raced at the thought of touching her, making my focus fade even more.

Don't touch.

"Um, watch me again." I say, her blue eyes focus on me yet again. "Keep your fingers on the brush like this, and just use gentle movements, like you're painting on a delicate flower."

"Okay," She admires the brush in her hand, moving it delicately against the blank paper. "Like this?"

"Yeah, that's good." I comment with a grin. "Now if you use gentle and slow movements, the image will be easier to create. As opposed to rushing it."

"Right."

We spent the rest of our hour improving her technique, the entire time my head spun with this blue eyed girl. She painted flowers on the paper, adding her own soul into the painting and I admired it so thoughtfully. Everything she did was so beautiful to me, she was like this universe of stars and planets that expose themselves through her soul and body. 

Each moment that passed my lungs filled with her vanilla scent and my soul held her red lips with want and passion. Every moment my arm brushed against her soft skin I could feel shock through my bones. I wanted her to stay longer, I wanted to be with her more and more. So when she stood to leave, I almost found myself yelling for her to just stay five more minutes. I wanted more.

"Well I'll see you tomorrow then, Harry." She gleams that perfect smile at me.

"See you tomorrow." I reply, composing my distaste to her leaving.

She wraps her warm arms around my neck in a quick hug, it lasted merely ten seconds but the whole time I held my breath. I hold her against me softly, the touch of her body made me ache for more contact. I was being so silly but god she made me so crazy, I couldn't help but always think about this girl.

As she exits the room I rush to my feet to get supplies, brushes and paint. I spent the next two hours of my afternoon on a painting of Lola, I had so many more details I needed to get out onto paper and show the world the beauty I saw in this girl. I used the colours of her blue eyes, her red lips and her pale cold skin to create an image of her universe.

***

I sat in class the next day finishing up my last project, my painting collections consisted of a theme and that was blue eyes and soft skin, but no one seemed to connect the dots to Lola. I wiped my hands on my ruined jeans, the ocean blue colour running down my thigh. I let out a sigh as I admired the painting in front of me, it felt so lost and meaningless to me at this point and I begged to find the answers to making my art alive again.

My teacher Mrs. Robinson, approaches me with a smile. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

She takes a seat next to me, briefly smiling at my creation in front of her. "The local art gallery is doing a show piece next month, lots of schools are entering and I wanted to see if you wanted to enter one of your pieces?" Her tone was eager, eyes begging me to say yes.

I had entered a lot of contests and galleries before, many disregarding my art as too out there or not having enough variety. I hadn't thought about entering again due to these rejections, but something inside told me to give it another shot before I graduate. I agree to enter a piece and my teacher lights up.

"Great!" She exclaims. "The deadline to enter is in about two weeks, I trust you'll have something by then?"

Two weeks? That wasn't much time at all really. "Yeah, of course." I reply cautiously.

As she walks away I dig through my mind to what I should paint for the gallery, I wanted so badly to make it work and win just once but I couldn't think of much to paint at this point, besides my usual muse of course.

But I needed more.

It seemed impossible to connect with the blue eyed girl in the way I wanted to, I would never hold her and kiss her the way I did in my dreams. I had to find another way to connect with her, get into her soul and figure out every curve and edge she has to offer the world. She was more than blue eyes and a heart beat, and I had a plan to find out what was inside her.

That afternoon when Lola turned up to the art gallery her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks stained and her hands brittle and shaking. Those blue eyes I'd grown infatuated with were dull and held a certain kind of sadness deep within, and now was my chance.

As she sat down with a sigh, tears fighting to show themselves to me, I realised she came here to seek comfort. Lola and I weren't connected but she still came to see me this afternoon after crying about a misfortune in her life, she sought comfort from someone she didn't really know all too well and that made me realise just how lonely she was in this world.

I didn't ask, I knew she didn't want to talk. "Let's paint our feelings today, and let them out." Was all I said to her, making her smile lightly.

She did paint her feelings that afternoon, she let out all her hurt and sadness through the colours on the canvas. We barely spoke words, letting out what was needed through art and projecting our anxieties and fears against a white canvas, painting the demons that made us cry. She was raw and real this afternoon, and when she left I finally thought about Lola as a human rather than the angel I figured she had to be.

It ignited some inspiration in me, letting me seep into a dream mode of creation to master the piece of art that was Lola.

***
authors note;

second chapter woo! votes and comments are so appreciated! thanks for reading.
-A