Healing Gabriel (BoyxBoy)

✣ Chapter Nineteen ✣

Healing Gabriel: Chapter Nineteen

                                                      ※(*)※Gabriel's POV※(*)※

      Evan and I got together Sunday evening. Our art projects were due tomorrow afternoon. Whereas I sat quietly in the little art corner of my room, Evan was busy procrastinating. He was sprawled out on my bed, coughing every now and then as he shifted positions on it.

      "God, this bed is super comfortable. I want one," he groaned against my pillow, upside down.

      "Shh," I shushed him, needing to concentrate.

      "I bet I could probably make my own. Just gotta rip a hole in the wall and stick a mattress in it."

      "Shhhh," I stressed.

      "Mmm, sharing a bed like this would be so cool. Like a hayloft almost. All bundled up in the hay, warm, safe from harm . . . Ahck!"

      The light thump sound made my paintbrush twitch free from the perfectly straight line I was trying to create. I bit the inside of my cheek, turning my head and looking over at him. I couldn't be angry or even the slightest bit annoyed, though. Evan was in an awkward crumpled position on the floor, grimacing as he straightened himself out and sat himself back up.

      "Do you really need me to supervise you at all times?" I sighed, setting my painting items down and going over to him.

      "No, I just don't understand how you can focus like that. I hate art, it's so boring and hard."

      I took a seat across from him. "Just like I find gym class tiring and useless."

      He scoffed at that. "Gym is awesome. Plus, you wouldn't have to take it if you joined a sport. Like track, for instance. You're really fast."

      "I'm not a runner. Why can't croquet be a sport?"

      He laughed. "Ew, that sport's for old people. Just stick to painting then."

      I smiled. "And that I shall do. Speaking of art, shouldn't you be finishing up your project?"

      "You mean starting it?"

      I shook my head at him, chuckling a little. "We had two weeks to do it in class, what have you been doing?"

      "Oh, you know, the same thing as everyone else. Talking, texting, messing with the clay. The usual."

      "Paying attention and doing what you're told isn't that tough, Evan. You get a lot done because of it," I told him. He simply huffed, climbing back up on my bed and lying upside down. Did he not learn from last time?

      "But it's soooo boring," he complained.

      I gave him a look. Why did everyone hate art so much? It was a great way to channel your feelings. "Come here," I said, standing up. He flipped himself back over, leaving the bed and following behind me. He took hold of my hand while we walked the short distance from my bed to my artwork.

      "Whoa, that's pretty sweet," he mused, a genuine look of astonishment in his eyes. The same look he had when we went sledding. "Even if it's not done yet, it know it'll turn out awesome."

      "I thought art was boring."

      "Not when you do it. Your artwork is always really cool and fascinating." He studied the painting more closely, the way the colors blended instead of staying one solid color. "Hey, speaking of your art work, you promised to show me your paintings. A long while ago. And you never did."