darkness falls

Chapter Two

I stomped the snow off of my shoes in the lobby, breathing in the somewhat warmer air of the school building. I snatched my hat off of my head before the dean of students could, and wandered through the cafeteria, stalking around hordes of laughing students and the prying gazes of everyone to make my way toward my little corner, as far away from the interaction of high school as possible. I slumped down into the chair, propping my sketchbook on my knee, and continued to sketch the scene that had been so well ingrained into my head. The pencil seemed to dance across the paper of its own accord, and I lost myself in the feel of the paper under my hand, of the graphite slowly becoming exactly what it needed to be. The waves formed softly under the hard, angular cliff, as the teen stood at the top, arms outstretched, barely noticeable as the rain pelted him, forcing his hair into a wet mop. I drew his wings, one an angel wing like I had seen, and the other the demonic, bat-like wing. I flipped the pencil over to use the eraser, and carefully removed some graphite from above the water, creating a white hot lightning bolt that nearly jumped off the page.

"Did you draw that yourself?"

I jumped, marring a little of the picture, and looked up with a glare. "Yes. What's it to you?"

The kid I laid eyes on had long, shaggy black hair tucked under a charcoal gray beanie. His eyes were emerald green, ringed with gray, and slight bags hung under them. His face was slim, his cheekbones prominant against the glare of the light shining through the window. He wore a snug fitting Asking Alexandria T-shirt, covered by a charcoal gray and electric blue hoodie. His dark jeans fit his legs well, and his feet were adorned with black on black Converse All-Stars. He lifted his hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, confused at my hostility. "It's good, is all."

I automatically felt bad for snapping at him. Iris, calm down, I thought to myself. "Sorry, just had a long night," I claimed, using the excuse enough to know that it was plausible and people bought it.

He gave me a small smile, and nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I know them feels." 

I blushed, adverting my gaze from his entrancing eyes, from his charming little smile. I stammered as I tried forcing the words out. "And you are?" I didn't remember ever seeing him around before, and I'd been going here for a few months now.

He glanced around nervously at the other students, almost as if he was making sure no one else would hear him. He looked back at me sheepishly and said, "Cooper."

"Cooper?" I replied, honestly admiring the name. I loved unusual and unique names.

Again, he gave me a shy smile. "Uh, Cooper. Graves Cooper."

I just looked at him dumbly. "Nuh uh. That is NOT your real name." I said, disbelieving. 

He chuckled at the look on my face. "Yeah, it is." He shoved a hand into his jean pocket, pulling out an old mp3 player and changing the song. 

I cocked my head as I looked at him quizzically. That couldn't be his real name. It was almost too unusual, like it was more of a nickname than anything. 

The bell rang, signaling the start of the migration to homeroom. I stabbed my pencil through the spiral binding of the sketchbook, and stood up, throwing my bag over my shoulder. I glanced over at Graves, noticing that he carried nothing other than the old mp3 player and a ratty notebook that looked like the ones I butchered with use at home on my desk. He caught me analyzing it and blood colored his cheeks again. "It's nothing." 

To hell, it's nothing, I thought, admiring the way his cheeks looked when he blushed. Though I could understand his reaction; every artist, either with words or with images, felt self conscious of the things they created. I started walking, careful of my sketchbook, careful not to bump into students, careful to avoid that unwanted attention. I gradually made it to my homeroom, and risked a look back at Graves. "See you later," he muttered, winking at me before he disappeared into the crowd.