melancholy feelings ~m.m~

part ten

꧁y/n's pov꧂

small, quick strokes glide across the canvas in a minty green color against a deep blue background. 'cant you see' by total and biggie smalls in my ears. i try my best to stay focused but i can't help but sing along under my breath.

the painting is still in the beginning stage. im mostly just laying down the base colors. i dont even know what im painting. i try to just enjoy the process.

i feel someone behind me. in an instant, i spin around to see miles.

"oh, so you just let yourself in now?" i pull my headphones down to hang around my neck. my hand is pulled out of my face in a very unflattering way and im wearing my paint clothes. for some reason, i feel embarrassed letting him see me like this.

"yeah, pretty much" he chuckles as he pulls my blankets over my sheets, fixing my bed for me before he layed down like he owned the place.

my eyes narrow on him. i feel like im getting too close to him. we're getting too comfortable around each other. but at the same time, not comfortable enough for me to not care what i look like. i hate this stage in the friendship.

i shrug nonchalantly and turn back to my painting. i hate that i keep my music low in case he wants to talk. so i can hear him.

few minutes past and i almost forget about his presence, humming along to a song as making the base of little fluffy clouds behind thick trees.

"whats your muse?" cuts through the comfortable silence like a knife. i blink, turning back at him with a fine paintbrush hanging from my lips. he smirks as he looks me up and down.

"uhm...i dunno." i shrug and turn back around. 'you' keeps replaying in my mind and makes me cringe. why would i even think about that?? well, i have been painting more since i met him...

"oh, cmon. i know you have one. every artist has an 'river of inspiration'." he chuckled and watched me clench my jaw. and know he knows my answer. that little cocky hoe just wants me to say it.

"whats yours?" i ask without glancing back, hoping he will just drop the question.

"don't dodge the question. i won't judge!" he lied. there were a lot of things he would judge her for but he just never spoke about it. "well...maybe. it depends."

"well, if it means so much to you" i roll my eyes and turn around. "my muse...is..."

as i start, he sits up, probably realizing this is an uncommon thing.

"you-" his eyes widden and my smile grows. "-r mom." his whole expression drops, falling back on the bed and rolling his eyes.

"wow, youre so mature, ma" at this point, he calls me that so often now i dont even think about it.

"im serious" i laugh as i turn back to my painting. "her smile is so radiant. the way shes so generous and gentle.." i play into the joke, taking small swipes at the clouds. "i might have a crush on your mom"

i felt a large thump at the back of my head. i snapped around and saw him rolling his eyes.

"i dont need another one of my friends fallin' for my mom." he pouted like a child. yeah, and im the immature one miles.

i grab the pillow and throw it back at him. "youre the one who asked." i turn back once again, trying to refocus my attention off of my annoying tumor and onto my painting.

silence falls between us and i can finally pay attention again.

until i feel his hip brush against mine as he stared down at the painting. he seemed to be studying it. subconsciously, i back up, leaving a bit of room between us. i really hope he doesn't realize the warmth in my chest.