The Art Of Love / l.h ✔️

41

~Fae's POV~

I sat in bed with Luke on Saturday morning, drawing his pretty face in my sketchbook while he laid beside me with his eyes closed. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't aware that I was drawing him either.

"What are you drawing over there this time, hm?" He hummed suddenly, peeling his eyes open. I glanced up from my page and pouted, upset that he was no longer in the same position he'd been in. He peered up at me with those beautiful blue eyes and I felt his thumb softly brushing across my bare knee. "You." I answered honestly, causing his brows to raise in surprise. "Me?" He echoed, taken aback. I giggled and continued to finish up the drawing, glad that I had gotten most of it done before he'd moved. "That's what I said." I answered, smiling.

He hummed and let me continue drawing, his thumb stroking over the skin on my knee. It was sweet and gentle. Loving.

I began to drift off in thought while I drew, thinking back to how hectic this past week had been. Ever since it had come out that Luke and I were dating, Maria and I had obviously stopped being friends. It seemed she really didn't want my "sloppy seconds" anymore, either, because she stopped bothering Luke. She didn't even talk to Josh or Tracy either, which I knew upset Tracy a lot more than it did Josh. I think he was about done with Maria's bullshit, too, so he didn't care much.

Axel, as it had turned out, had evidently had a crush on me. I know because he seemed bummed out when he caught me and Luke kissing at the table in Mr. Thomason's room. He either had a thing for me or Luke, but something told me it was for me.

Tracy and Josh had been more than accepting of Luke and I's relationship, though I admit Josh had maybe been a little bit too excited for us. He went out and bought Luke three entire boxes of condoms and gave them to us at lunch, which had definitely earned quite a few looks from people passing by when he had just tossed those onto the table for us. I wasn't sure how he knew what size Luke needed, but I was pretty sure that I didn't want to know. Josh was weird, to say the least.

Funnily enough, I was the happiest now that I had been in a long time. It was nice.

"You gonna let me see those drawings of yours anytime in my life?" Luke murmured curiously, causing me to smile. He'd been asking quite a bit the last week about the sketchbooks I had, wanting to see my drawings. "Why do you want to see them so much?" I pouted, watching as his eyes fluttered open yet again. "Because I told you I want to know you. Every part of you." He answered, studying me closely. I smiled to myself and brushed a curl out of his face. "You really want to see them?" I wondered, cocking my head to the side. He nodded and I smiled a little. "Okay, then." I agreed, handing him the one in my hands. "You can start with this one. I've got two others that are full for you to look at after." I said.

And surprisingly, he looked at every single drawing I've done, taking his time in looking at them. He had this little smile on his face the entire time, like I'd given him much more than just the satisfaction of looking at some drawings I'd done. I watched him closely as he turned the pages in the last sketchbook I had given him, his eyes scanning over the artwork on the page.

"What makes you love art so much, Fae?" He asked while he flipped through the pages, sparing me a curious glance before he looked down again. I looked at him and scanned my eyes over the beauty of his face, smiling to myself. "Art is love." I said, causing him to raise a brow. "I thought more people always thought art is suffering. You know, from suffering comes art." He said back, a little frown on his face.

"Yes." I confirmed, nodding my head. "But from love comes suffering, and from suffering comes art." I said. "And sometimes there is no love to bring suffering. Sometimes there's just suffering, and then comes the art. But from the art comes love, either from the artist or the people admiring the art."

Luke eyed me closely and he smiled to himself, looking back down at the pages in my sketchbook. "You love art because it brings love?" He wondered, paraphrasing what I'd essentially just said. A smile rose on my face and I shrugged my shoulders. "That's one of the reasons." I answered. "Art comes in many forms and it brings a light to so many lives. For so many people, it's a safe space when there are none. That's what it was for me." I shrugged, scooting over so I was sitting closer to him. He smiled and turned to the last page, which was another drawing I'd done of him. "You drew me better than how I actually look." He said, causing me to chuckle. "No. That's your face." I said.

A smile formed on his lips and he shut my sketchbook, putting it off to the side as he looked over at me. "If that's my face, what does that make the drawing? A copy?" He wondered. I shook my head. "Art." I corrected. "Art doesn't necessarily have to mean making something like a drawing or a painting that is not a copy of something that already exists. People paint scenery of the earth all the time. The earth is always changing. What we see now isn't what people saw even fifty years ago. The preservation of that thing, loving it enough to spend your time making it so people can see it later...that's love." I hummed, softly brushing my fingers along his face.

"But it's just my face." He murmured, causing me to giggle. He genuinely didn't understand why I drew his face. "How is my face art?"

"Because, you big dope," I hummed, crawling into his lap. "Art is the expression of emotion. The artist creates something that makes them feel a certain way, or to purge emotion. People create drawings of nature and, as humans, we are part of nature. In nature, there's art. Do you get what I'm saying?" I tried to explain, but he just shook his head. "Not at all." He said. I groaned and grabbed him by his face, peering down at him. "You're so stupid." I pouted, earning a laugh from him. He softly brushed his fingers over my thigh and kissed me softly, letting me rest my forehead against his.

I knew he didn't see it the same way as I did, which was okay. While I held him and he held me, I could feel the fast pace beat of his heart and my lips pulled into a tiny smile. For a long time, my art had been my safe space. It had gotten me through everything and I was there, the artist, pouring myself into it and falling in love with the entirety of it.

Now, Luke was my art, and I was his artist.