this is actually an imagine that i'm afraid will flop:( but it's worth a try, i got the confidence lmao

risk it

uNeDiTeD

Your POV
"he only sits outside after school just to draw, there's nothing much about him to like," my friend says, lazily picking up her phone. i give her a confused look. "he's a really shy kid, the only thing i see him do is skateboard with his brother and friends, and sketch stuff around him, he's weird."

"he's weird?"

"he just doesn't like talking to other people, he only just sketches outside, but he is a really talented artist," she says. "i stalked on one of his works, he's pretty much committed to that stuff."

i shrug, thinking about him. i've seen him, leaning against the tree under the shade, spending blank pages and pages of his book sketching things that pop in his mind. he's different, he's unique, he's really something.

his eyes peer down deeply at his work in front of him, clearly in a whole other world, so no one bothers to speak to him.

i never caught his name yet, i don't have classes with him, but i would always walk out of the gates of the school to find him sitting on the grass. he's an independent person with an imagination probably no one else has. and he would sometimes look up at me as i pass him, his eyes sinking into my soul as if i let him in already. and my eyes would gaze into his oblique ones, mystery lies in them.

i asked my friend about him, curious of him, but who wouldn't?

"he wouldn't talk to you," she said before the bell rang, then i leave her to get out of school. my thoughts roar angrily, i was thinking about going up to him to talk to him, but now that my friend tells me this, maybe i'll just feel embarrassed.

i walk outside, my eyes searching to find the tree that shades him from anyone and fences up his mind. then i see him, sitting down calmly, but my eyes then wander to a group of guys, clearly stronger than him, snickering and shrinking the distance between them and the boy distracted by his own sketches. i feel my pulse shrivel into dust, my legs now speeding up.

my worries drown out the sounds of them surrounding him like he's some prey. and soon i see his book in the air.

my legs manage to sprint to him, my heart breaking just seeing this shy boy not bothered to do anything, already allowing the guys overpower him like he isn't human.

and my eyes feel pain when i hear many awful things being spoken to him as he sits there doing nothing. and then i shove a guy with all of my strength, this guy ending up bumping into another one of his once-cheering friends, catching his attention. "leave him alone," i spoke, not even knowing what to do since i've never really done this for anyone.

but they laugh, leaving suddenly, making me surprised, but mostly surprised when they smacked his hard work in pages on the grass, my gasp barely able to be ignored.

i pick it up, the boy following behind me picking his work up too. "thank you," his voice, deep and smooth, yet mutter, made my heart jump.

"i'm sorry that they did this to your book," i say clearly dazed by how delicate each page held, the sketch telling a story, each deep stroke of his pencil sends chills down my spine. "these are beautiful."

"no they're not," he mutters, doubting himself. my eyes still are gazing upon a page.

"no they're magnificent," i said looking at a page that was a girl, smiling brightly and proudly, but an illusion to something dark and depressing that lurks in her like liquid tar. story is short and clear; she's lying to herself about her happiness. "this one's really well drawn."

i gave him back his book, then he sits down, his shyness taking over him unlike a few seconds ago. i watch him create an invisible fortress of his own world, but i invade it awkwardly, sitting next to him.

he turns his face to me, and we were unbelievably close. "what were you about to draw?"

and the invisible fortress shuts both of us in it. his shyness is gonna now that he's in his world, even though i'm in it too. "i don't know yet, whatever flies in my mind."

i never really taken the time to look at him, his loose face with his sparkly eyes that can see the real world and his imagination, yet has this mysterious gaze that can make you feel heavy. his lips soft visually, and his skin is the same thing, defined cheekbones and jawline, black hair in a messy quiff and his furrowed eyebrows. i always thought he looked beautiful, but being next to him, he seemed to exceed my expectations.

"why do you like sketching?" i ask.

he looks up to all the students walking out, expression of disgust. "it takes me away for a while. this world sucks," he blurts clearly no regret when saying that.

"oh."

"i've always imagined a world flawless, beautiful, addicting. it's a drug, i'm deeply trapped in its addiction to escaping it all. and all of my deepest thoughts of the perfect world are drawn here, a thought rises in my mind, i capture it in here like a diary. i would sometimes stare at others here a think..." he rests his elbow on his knee, still gazing upon the dense crowd "...they are possibly not really satisfied with the world, and they never seem to fix that problem. i believe depression is hopelessness. but imagination is like dreaming during the day. dreaming of your world..." (ok this sucks rereading this)

his mind travels though time. his worlds are like paint, small things are vibrant hues, others aren't. he clearly takes in both of them deeply, it confuses me. he holds this mindfulness that i don't have.

"...it's like a whole other dimension of the entire universe that is real when you believe it, i sketch mine to envision my real and spiritual life. i'm not religious as you may tell, i often just seek my own self instead of following a superior someone, and a way to seek myself is dreaming of my world in a form of drawings, and it gives me hope for our real world, which also makes me feel happy. i don't bother fucking with other people when all i need is my thoughts. it's confusing, do you understand," he finishes. (oh boy this is really bad:))

"i do," i begin. "and i heard you skateboard too, do you enjoy that?"

"my brother wants me to get into some form of sports, it's not really my thing. his friends are also a bunch of dicks."

"oh really?"

"they were those guys. they act much more friendly when i'm with my brother, but when i'm alone, they see me as a weak mouse. they're the cat."

"i'm sorry, does you're brother know?"

"i don't really want to interfere with his life."

"oh okay," i say then shook my head. "you barely met me and i'm already pushing you into talking about your personal life-"

"no it's fine," he says smiling at me, my heart drops. "i kind of liked talking about it. no one ever does."

"oh," i say feeling sorry for him.

"but don't feel bad for me, i'm okay," he says sketching more of the girl that masquerades her deep sadness. his hands know what pencil strokes he should use, and i know his heart is sending signals to his mind that's drawing this rather depressing image. i'll just keep that thought to myself.

silence took over like a calm wave, it smoothly took place without me realizing it. it felt comforting, and i continue watching this boy let his pencil tell what's going through his mind. my eyes lay on the page deeply, as he continues talking about other sketches.

i bring up things about me a few times, but i wanted to make sure he was able to tell his own story. "oh by the way my names ethan," he spoke laughing, taking out his hand jokingly since we've been talking for a long time without even knowing eachother's names. "i'm y/n," i laughed quietly.

and this gaze he had left me hanging on a thread of just falling instantly for him, he's one of billions, he's really something. my eyes just naturally float to his eyes that peer along his art. it's mystery yet such charm and lightness that i can't up but be attracted to.

again, he's really something.

"drawing is an escape, i would like that," i say still watching him gazing naturally at his work, but he looks at me, with this grin that puts me in a daze as usual. "you can always just stay with me after school, i would like someone as nice as you to be with me."

"okay," i speak, looking at his look begging for me to stay. "yeah i have to go, but i'll be back." standing up, i turn my head. "see you later."

i walk. "wait," i hear, and i turn my head to see him walking to me. i wait like what he wanted.

"thank you by the way, for helping me out with those guys. no one ever did that for me," he says. his pure eyes stare adoringly at mine.

"that's what friends are for, ethan," i answer confidently, making his cheeks redden. his playful smile still remains resting upon his face as i walk away, also him walking back to his tree.

i turn my head back to see him turn to a blank page, starting something new, and i knew he wasn't close to done finishing that sketch of the girl.

y'all i'm sorry i think i'm high while writing this but it was a thought that i always wanted to put in words, BUT IMAGINE ETHAN BEING AN AMAZING ARTIST!!!! like no feelings please stop.

i also aced my math quiz so i've been in a good af mood, i'm actually starting to like my history teacher, and i'm reading good book rn so i'm livin!!!!