look at him being a cutie!!! he's my bumble bee baby boy:) but he looks so tired:(

i have confide-uNeDiTeD

Your POV
"want to go to my place," he says walking me out of the parlor, my lips still taste of ice cream. "you don't have to, i can take you home, you just might have to give me directions."

i nod my head humming back a 'yes' since i was distracted by his hands grasping mine just like before. it's as if we slipped into something else without realizing it, it feels foreign but at the same time i enjoyed the quick transition from friend to...well something closer.

we reach his truck, and we got inside quick. he eyes look at me suddenly and intensely, like he wants to say something. "what?" i ask searching his dilating pupils for answers.

"i don't know, i zoned out," he blurts turning his face towards the parking space that he was back out of. i want his hands grasp the wheel tight. "turn on some music!"

"okay," he drags turning it on, and i feel my nerves relax when he plays his variety of songs. my mind races off with the music, thinking about the lyrics. he really does like songs that have a story. his fingers tap on the steering wheel that follows the faint beats of the song, my mind slowly lured by his soft humming and tapping.

"you're quiet," he says looking at me quickly, a humbled smile appearing on his tanned face.

"yeah i know, i'm just listening to you and the song," i say looking out the window.

"oh...you heard me?"

"yeah, but keep doing it, i like it," i said closing my eyes just focusing on the music again.

and soon i feel his car thump when reaching his driveway, my eyes opening, and then meeting ethan putting his car on park.

i get out, then feel his arm around me as usual. "my mom isn't home?" he asked himself, opening the door. "hello? mom? dad? i guess they're not hear. gray? cam?"

no one answered, i look around the place, family like atmosphere when i smelled the same vanilla cinnamon that was on ethan's sweatshirt. it's warm and cozy, the living room had stacks of blankets on the couch, the kitchen had cookies on the island left out for snacks, along with fruits resting in a bowl. my eyes search around the photos on the walls, him and his brother posing together during maybe their toddler years, smiling playfully, a piece of artwork on the wall with a quote on the bottom right 'happy mother's day' in childish handwriting and christmas cards on tables.

it was a peaceful atmosphere just walking in. "get comfy, i'll turn on something while you hang around," ethan said walking out of my vision. i take my shoes off, and i walk around the place, my hands in my pockets looking at the family photos on the walls.

i find myself wondering how no one knows this about ethan at school. he isn't just 'an anti-social weirdo who draws'. he's a family-man, smart, kind to others, his humor is perfect for me, and he's comfortable with all kinds of music, he's just like most people, except people never really dig into ethan to find his true self other than a person who sketches art. scratch that-he's unique in a way that outshines the rest, his personality is honest once you know him, i've never met someone like him, he's really something special.

i've probably felt more vulnerable around him as we got to know more about eachother. chills fall down my spine, my smile peering out, i'm vulnerable to him.

"i'm back, i just had to quickly clean my room," he says with a nervous look, i react with me burst of laughter.

"oh my gosh ethan, it's okay i've done that a lot."

he sighs of relief. "i wanted to look good."

"oh my gosh ethan," i say facepalming, he walks towards me and drags me to the couch, and engulfs me in his embrace, snuggling together before he turns on something on the television. my eyes feel droopy just bundled on his warmth.

tv screen shines to our faces, watching cartoons, not even bothered by how childish they are.

"y/n, shit you went quiet in ten minutes and i thought you were dead, you were just asleep," he says before my head struggles to rise off his chest. my hand combs through my hair. "look i got tired."

"that's okay, you were sound asleep just after one episode," he says. "it's been a solid hour."

i curse, "wow, that's sad."

he looks into nothingness, "can i show you something in my room?"

"sure but i think my left leg lost its blood flow," i said shaking it'. he laughs, picking me up suddenly, i didn't even bother pushing myself off of him, i just mumbled incoherent words and curled up in his hold. i was really surprised my his strength, it wasn't a struggle taking me upstairs.

we reach his door, and i was let down to stand up, and we walk in. his room, lit up by the open curtains on his window, had a shy grey shade on the walls, his queen sized bed had teal sheets, but what caught my eye the most was a plain desk, stacked with canvas textured papers, a wide collection of colored pencils, dim lit by his lamp. my legs move there.

"i spend most of my time there, i carry my thoughts on paper," he spoke noticing my interest.

i gaze along the wooden desk, looking at a rough sketch on of of his developing masterpieces. "ethan, wow, i never knew you were so dedicated to art, woah," my eyes capture canvas' plastered with vibrant water colors on his walls. "you paint too?"

"a distant hobby," he says.

"wow they're beautiful," i say clearly blown away by how his room seems to have 'ethan' written all over it. it feels so true to his style, his life.

i see an old sketchbook. "can i look through it?"

"go ahead," he said before i look the boon and opened it, and his stories in the form of pencil strokes captured my breath.

"ethan," i repeat. "you're really an artist."

"stop-"

"has anyone ever witnessed these?"

"never shared my work other than my family and you."

my cheeks flush yet again, reacting to how i seem so special to him. "you should show it off."

"there's a meaning to each of my works, i don't want to lose the importance of the meaning of each of my works by showing them around, i just share them with close people."

"what was that one sketch of...the girl, the one that covered up her...darkness or sadness? that one, i never seen you do that one ever again."

"i thought if meant something, but when the meaning of it doesn't click in my mind, it's useless to draw it. i don't know. i like drawing people though that mean a lot to me."

"would i be one?" i say feeling a little nervous to hear his reaction.

"you already are."

shitty update but imma rant:)

engineers, doctors, mathematicians, psychologists, etc. have high salaries you know, their knowledge of their skills, their hard work and dedication, it makes sense for them to have high salaries.

the funny thing is, every successful human in this world, have been raised, built upon, and inspired by teachers. teachers are the foundation of engineers, doctors, mathematicians, psychologists etc. they raised people like albert einstein, thomas edison, abraham lincoln, and so on...and yet they are so underrated!

teachers deserve so much more, as an award for being the guides to inventors, innovators, leaders, inspirers, motivators...

also, they've taken care of you a quarter of your childhood life, letting you go home when your sick, listen to you when you needed help, or when your stressing out, or when you just need a person to stand up to a bully, and yet their getting less than half of what an engineer or a doctor gets.

i find that unbelievable. teachers are more than just someone that presents a lesson on the board, they are the guides to your future.

teachers deserve more appreciation. don't hate me, my opinion.