Painted

part 1

One day, I was cleaning my shelves and from a stack of books fell a book, yellowed from time. It was my sketchbook, which was given to me by my sister, then I drew very well and wanted to go to art school, but over time somehow changed my mind.
But childhood and school are behind me, now I'm in my second year of study in all kinds of technology and mechanics. With a colored paper clip attached to the crust was a sheet mangled by fire and dust, apparently they had tried to put it out but decided to do so too late. It showed a striped sleeve and legs, the other half of the drawing burned, and on the back of it was an assignment or something like a promise to "Meet Gus again," but I didn't have a buddy with that name among my friends or acquaintances. As I thought about it, I was immersed in a memory from my childhood:
I was about 12 years old, a fun active girl with a pink bob and white overalls. My hobby was about a year old when I started drawing in notebooks and in the margins and got beautiful pictures, but the teachers still asked me not to draw, but to study. Both my uncle and my older sister were called to school, because I didn't care about all the prohibitions and the teachers just didn't know what to do. And then, on my twelfth birthday Janet gave me a sketchbook and watercolor pencils, which I was very happy about.
Day after day passed, and new and new drawings appeared in my sketchbook: the alley in front of the house, a dog, a kitty, handwriting. At my age, children still play war games or mother-daughters, go out with friends, but to me they seemed boring, too...(scared of their parents) correct? Perhaps, because they obeyed strict adults, did their homework, went out before the proper time, and I am the opposite of them.
How I dreamed of such a friend, who would be similar in character and would always support any topic, and who would stand out among others with his kindness and in some special way. When I got home, I had dinner, did some homework and got ready for bed.
In my dream I was walking through a playground, it was full of children, but I didn't know any of them, their faces were smeared and only one boy standing by the swing waved to me and waited for his turn to ride. Even from a distance he seemed to be the one I had been dreaming of. When he ran up to me, he looked at me a little amazed and then introduced himself, laughing. The boy, who was a little taller than me, seemed gloomy and inconspicuous, but in reality he was a child with a kindness of heart and an explosive character.
It was evening and the kids were slowly leaving the playground, so we were alone. It was awkward, but I suggested to my new friend that we go for a walk somewhere.
It was evening, and the kids were slowly leaving the playground, so we were alone. It was awkward, but I suggested to my new friend that we go for a walk somewhere. I didn't have to think long. The boy offered to take me to a place, but he didn't say which one. I closed my eyes with my palms, I felt fear, because I didn't know where we were going and put my hands over his and what was my surprise when I felt nothing, they were cold and ghostly. It's just a dream, it's not real. It made me even more afraid, but my palms didn't cover my eyes. We were on some sort of hill with a tree and a swing tied to it, a small fence off the edge and bright, glowing dots that looked like lights flying back and forth. They turned out to be fireflies. It was impossible to describe the beauty, you just had to see it. But then all the evening beauty began to fade and fog, the ground under my feet fell, and the boy stood unwavering, looked at me, then grabbed me in his arms and, a little frankly, thanked me for the time spent and disappeared.
I woke up. The cool air sent shivers through my body, and I didn't want to sleep anymore. The dream turned into a nightmare and a fall into the unknown. How banal. It seemed like the weekend was needed to give you a break from all the hustle and bustle, but no, we'd get up before everyone else and try to start our morning. My mind was buzzing with thoughts, one stranger than the other, and as if on cue I remembered my dream. Taking out a sketchbook, I began to recall his features and appearance. Enough time had passed to be able to say that the drawing was ready, but only missing a name. "He's too nice, he should have a name to refer to him by!" - Reasoning, I began to think about what name would suit him.
Leon? What? How could I have thought of that? The bastard's always making jokes and jokes that can burn something, no matter what. Jack? Associates with a dog. Eugene? Imagines a completely different person, also not that. Gus? Why that name? I'm so sick of making up names, from now on you'll be Gus. I signed my name in pencil, and the time on the clock was 9:00 a.m. I made my bed and left, my sketchbook on the table, not to be seen until lunchtime.
Just as I finished helping my uncle and sister in the yard, the afternoon came.
I looked around the room and nothing seemed to have changed, but the air was stuffy and hot. I opened the window and a stream of fresh air flowed into the room. As I was adjusting the curtain, I saw the sketchbook lying on the floor and my first thought was that all the pages must have gotten crumpled, but thankfully that wasn't the case. I wanted to look at my drawings again and when I got to the one I drew this morning I couldn't understand why it was gray, that is, drawn with a simple pencil.
I scrutinized every detail and denied that I was coloring in one color. Suddenly someone took my sketchbook and started looking at it. Instead of fear, I felt anger at my unexpected guest. Not only did he sneak into my house, but he was taking my things. I expressed my indignation in an orderly tone and snatched the sketchbook out of my hands, but there was no reaction. The boy stood there and didn't understand where the aggression was coming from, but just accepted it as fact. He introduced himself by the name "Gus", but still angry at him, I said that I didn't know such acquaintances and asked him to sit quietly until I finished drawing, and then I would deal with him, which of course did not happen.
In a few minutes the boy dropped the neatly folded things, folded the mat in half, tripped over it, and broke my favorite mug. I couldn't help but hear the glass cracking, and I was furious, but the boy apologized and said he would clean it up, to which I advised him to help silently and accidentally made a line on the sheet covering his mouth. The anger in me was boiling, but looking at the drawing, I realized that it wasn't to blame for my uncontrollable hatred and carefully tried to erase it without touching anything necessary. And now the line was erased and it was left to redraw the smile, but I was too embarrassed by the silence that had been going on for several minutes now. I looked in the direction where there was some mess, thinking that the kid had left after all, but no, he was cleaning up the shards silently. And when I called out to him and asked him why he was quiet, he didn't say anything, and there was nothing on his face where his mouth should have been. It was a bit of a surprise to see that. So I went back to the drawing and made a slightly crooked, but smile again and turned to the boy and this time he had a mouth and a silly smile. The boy, who decided to take advantage of the opportunity, said that I came up with the name and all of it too, which miraculously got to her room and he did not understand why I was so angry with him, if I wanted a friend with her own character. I was a little ashamed of it, that I wanted it, and in the end I resent it, because I behave identically to him, and I offended him for nothing. After I had asked my uncle to excuse me, I went into the hallway, put on my shoes, and went outside. We walked through a half-empty city, even in the afternoon, when it's the height of the action, everyone is asleep or just sitting at home. I had my sketchbook with me, maybe I'd draw something.
Suddenly Gus stopped me. He came closer and said that this was probably the last time he would see me, so he would take everything and more from the chance. Leaning in a little, he gave me a quick kiss and just as quickly pulled back a little. A blush burned on my face, and on his lips was the taste of blackberry lip gloss and a faint blush. I didn't want to be angry anymore and the only plan that emerged in my head was to run far away so I wouldn't see him. Everything happened abruptly and unexpectedly. It seemed that at that moment I was running faster than usual, not noticing anyone in my way. At that moment I wished, no, I wished that he would disappear, that I would never see him again, it was too strong for her, but I would never let anyone do that without my permission.
After running a fair distance, I looked back and saw no one behind me. There were voices behind me and a group of teenagers standing in front of me who clearly had bad intentions. Surrounding me, they took my sketchbook and grabbed my arms. The two holding my sketchbook flipped through the pages, studying each drawing. Smirking, one of them said to let me go, pulling a lighter out of his jeans pocket. He offered to give me the sketchbook in exchange for my safety, and if I refused, he'd wait it out and I'd feel bad. As an example he started spinning the wheel of the lighter and sparks flew from it and soon there was a huge flame. But if you think about it, why burn what you want to take away? Obviously they wanted my sketchbook for fun, just to mock my efforts. Ostentatiously holding up the lighter, as if to show their power over me, they laughed as they moved the flame away, then back again, bringing it closer and closer to the page. Someone's loud shout and threat was heard very close by, thus scaring the teenagers, who ran away, and the one holding the lighter accidentally set the page on fire and threw it somewhere to the side and ran away too. I looked at something burning in the sketchbook in the hands of the boy who ran up and didn't know what to do, the fire was slowly and smoothly burning the sheet. Snatching up the burning sheet, almost burning himself, Gus threw it to the ground, stomping on it a little. All in all, one leaf was burned, and the sketchbook itself was unharmed, unless you counted the dust on it. Joyfully Gus spoke of the bygone problem and that everything would be all right now, picking up the sheet. It was covered in dust and soot, and turning it over to the front, the boy's mood changed, and his hands could barely hold the half-burned page.
His reaction piqued my interest and I picked up the poor page. I recognized it as my morning drawing, which was a different color than before. It didn't show my face or half of my body, just two skinny legs in shorts and sneakers and a green striped sleeve. It made me sad, but what got to me even more was that Gus was paler and a little more transparent. He showed no emotion, just a cold and downcast stare, with no action, a silence that devoured everything good. Something inside me clicked, I suddenly realized that he was perfect not only as a friend, but also as a boy who could offer to go out in the evenings and spend time with interest and listening to different stories. My emotions are out of control, so I'll think later on how dumb it was.
As I hugged him, I felt the coldness, the cracks where I could see them, like porcelain, cold, brittle and white, if you put a lot of force on it, it would crack and chip. Once again my thoughts were rushing around in my head, but they all added up to one "Kiss! Last chance, you won't see him again!", it seemed wrong and shameful, but Gus was melting before my eyes, a little more time and he would disappear.
When I loosened my embrace, I stared at his glassy eyes, which were devoid of emotion and life, and at his thin lips, which had been soft and warm and now pale and cracked. Action had to be taken quickly and now. Closing my eyes and blushing even more, I placed my hands on his shoulders, standing on tiptoe, I touched my lips to his. Just briefly, pulling back and covering my face with my palms, my act seemed shameful, but the emotions experienced were beautiful, just as I wanted them to be. He asked the question "Why?", he probably knew or guessed my earlier thoughts, but waited for me to answer. Though the answer followed in silence, he didn't care anymore, after apologizing for that stupid act, he disappeared just as he appeared in my life. His presence was no longer felt, and there were drops on the sheet that looked like tears, clearly not left by me.
- "I'm sorry..." - Speaking to nowhere, I looked around, and he was gone.

It hadn't been long, and I didn't feel like going out at all. I wandered toward home, thinking about the materiality of thoughts and desires, because neither earlier nor later it happened, but exactly when a stupid prank hurt my feelings and pride. But there are no situations that cannot be undone, are there? Maybe I should draw him again and he would be by my side? But do I remember his sweet facial features? Do I remember his handsome appearance that I made up? How could I forget what I drew this morning? I had no answers to these questions, I was so angry with him that my most vivid memories were of hating him for what he had done and saving my sketchbook.
Here I am already standing on the doorstep of the house and I take off my shoes and walk into my room feeling shattered. I look at the burnt sheet, take a pencil in my hand and write the promise "To meet Gus again" on the back, find the prettiest and brightest paperclip, attach the sheet to the front of the sketchbook and shove it on the shelf, with the hope of remembering the image.

So many years have passed, and I still haven't fulfilled my promise, but maybe I will meet him in a dream, where I will be a little girl, and he will be that kind and bright boy on the background of gray and unknown to me children.