You're That One Kid // *BL, YAOI, SMUT*

21 • Vincent

Art was my go-to. Even more so than Oliver. In any case, it gave me an escape.

I'd be sketching a mountainous landscape and suddenly be flying far away from here, to a place of my own.

But then-

"Vincent."

I'd snap back.

"Hey, Vincent, are you okay?"

I looked up from the large piece of paper in front of me to see Tom Kindler staring up at me with his wide eyes.

Tom was a sort of little brother figure when I'd show up to class; he was a freshman, but a really good artist, probably better than me.

"Y-Yeah Tom, I'm fine."

"Oh, okay... you just hardly show up to Art Club anymore, and you're especially spaced out today. You sure nothing's up?" He eyed my paper and rested his hand in his palm, his ashen brown hair falling on his face as though it were the leaves of a willow tree.

"Yeah, of course."

"I see you around with that one kid a lot... Oliver, right? He seems cool. You guys friends?"

"You could say that."

I smirked a bit. I found it sort of amusing that people default to friendship though even in public we appear oddly close.

I stared back down at my paper with intent, but nothing would come to mind. My paper was still pale and blank, nothing has come of me being here yet, and I have little inspiration.

What Oliver had brought up freaked me out. Tell his mom? Go to court? It was all too much to process. Too much. The more I think, the more it seems I just get in Oliver's way.

My hand lowered to the paper as I began to sketch with my pencil.

I mean, no sane person could stand this drama I bring, no one at all. Unless... unless Oliver were using me? I mean, we've grown so close in such a short amount of time. Maybe I was too foolish from the start, and him to witty.

Why else could someone possibly want to put up with my inferior insolence? I'm as dramatic as they come, those girls were just messing with me all the same I suppose...

I pause.

Tom was standing over me now from my shoulder, looking at my paper. It was a dove standing behind what was left of a shattered glass heart.

My best work comes from my misery.

"Wow... Hey, uh, Vincent? Are you sure you're alright?" Tom asked. He shook my shoulder a bit to wake me from my daze, but I was already awake.

"Yeah, but I've realized something, Tom. Thank you for asking."

I got up, grabbing the paper and putting it in the back room where all the art is kept in tall thin cubbies.

I darted out of the art room and down the hall, flying with the cool air of the school hitting my face. I threw open the front doors after school and quickly began to walk down the street towards Oliver's house.

•

The sun was sitting on the horizon, waiting for the moon to take its place so it could sleep.

Meanwhile, I was stuck on Earth, sitting on Oliver's front steps thinking about what I should say to him.

Thinking about... anything.

What was I to even say? I couldn't turn up at his doorstep like a lost puppy to only say, "you're to good for me, don't help me, it's fine, you're just using me."

It was pointless to do so. So then what?

I hugged my knees and my face crunched in thought.

Could he really just be using me? Was I so worthless in his eyes he saw fit to use me? For love?

I heard voices from inside the house, Oliver and his mother. She seemed like a kind lady.

I remained in my position, I couldn't think straight. Every time I thought of Oliver, it would just go to those times with him.

The swings, his bedroom, baking...

There was locking sound, and the front door swung open.

Oliver stood there looking down at me, and I could feel heat rise from my eyes.

I was crying.