You're Beautiful, To Me

I sat at the back of the physics classroom by myself for the period, it wasn’t actually too bad and I got work done. Also concentrating on the formulas kept my mind off of the guilt that was consuming me, I couldn’t stop feeling bad about what had happened; I’d stood back and watched him get hurt, yet he’d still helped me despite that. I inwardly sighed in frustration and turned my focus back to the work. When the bell rang I half-heartedly packed my bag then remembered I had art next.
That distracted me a bit and my motions became more enthusiastic. Art was my favourite subject. It was my passion. I loved the subject, I loved the lessons, I loved the classroom, I loved the work, I loved my teacher but most of all I loved expressing myself through it. Put a pen or paintbrush in my hand and I changed, I was no longer the troubled and suicidal kid who couldn’t leave the house without facing a panic attack – instead I was strong and in power, I was in my home territory and I was proud, I could be myself and draw whatever I wanted without giving what anyone else was doing.
I entered the classroom and nodded at my teacher, he responded with ‘Afternoon, Mr Way” and I walked past him and up to where I sat, in the back corner next to the massive window that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. It gave an amazing view as the classroom was on the top floor and I found that very calming. I sat by myself at a table for four, everyone else sat together but I didn’t mind, in fact I liked it. I pull my sketch book out of my bag and immediately continue on the art which I’ve been working on for the past few days; it’s a pencil drawing of Morrissey, from The Smiths.
Mr Barnes, our teacher, seems to like me as well. He always takes an interest in what I’m doing and encourages me if I get close to giving up. He also talks to me about more personal stuff too, I don’t go all deep with him of course, but I’ve told him more than I’ve told anybody else before. I’ve not told him about any of my habits but I’m sure he knows about them, he can probably smell smoke and alcohol on me, and sometimes when I come into class I’m completely wasted. However he’s never said anything to me about it and I think he doesn’t judge me for it. I’m glad I’ve got someone in my life, even if it is only my art teacher.
I continue shading the colours in gently as the rest of the class come into the room, I lightly smudge the pencil lines and use my eraser to make the edges sharper. I enjoy doing this, it calms me down and allows me to leave my own head for a bit, I do it a lot but I think I like it best when I’m in the art room, it seems to make me more in character about it all. I feel the wooden part of my pencil scratching on the paper so I hastily change to a sharp one, as I’m doing that someone sits down next to me. I pay no attention.
The person sat silently for a few minutes, watching me I presumed even though I couldn’t see their face, then spoke brightly, “Hey!”
I ignored them and kept on drawing, once I’d finished with the pencil I looked around on the desk for the fine liner I remembered getting out of my bag, it didn’t seem to be there though.
The person beside me stretched down to the floor then sat back upright, holding out their hand, “Is this what you’re looking for?”
I took the pen from them and croaked a thank you from within my painful throat before carrying on with my work.
“You’re welcome.” They replied and I continued working.
“Are you alright?” They asked quietly after a little while and I looked up at them. It was the same boy who’d been shoved into the locker at break time, the same one who’d helped me at lunch.
We made eye contact for a moment then I continued outlining my drawing with the pen, my happy mood from the art room ruined by the memories from earlier.
“What’re you drawing?” The guy asked, still sounding cheerful.
I ignored him and felt a surge of anger inside, did he not know how shit he was making me feel? I sensed him move closer to me, trying to get a look at my drawing, I whipped around to face him.
“Could you not sit here?” I snapped, not caring how badly I portrayed myself to him. After all, he already knew I was a coward who was too weak to defend himself, it wasn’t going to make it any worse.
“Why?” The boy looked slightly hurt and I regretted it immediately, I’d been verbally hurt by people in the past and I knew what he was thinking. That made me just as bad as the people who hurt me I realised.
“I’m sorry,” I replied, “I meant why do you want to sit with me up at the back? Why don’t you sit with everyone else down there? They’d probably love to have you join them.” I waved idly towards the front of the class where everyone else was sitting around the same three tables.
“It’s just,” The boy looked downwards, “I though since I knew you I could sit with you and maybe we could become better friends.”
I felt even worse inside now, this guy should really be making friends with nice people, I didn’t deserve someone like him.
“I’m really sorry, you can stay if you want, although I’ll warn you now, there’s much much better friends you could be making than me.” I said, I really wanted to apologise for earlier but I didn’t have the guts, Yeah, I’m a coward.
“Thanks.” He said with a small smile, twiddling his thumbs. “I’m Frank, by the way.”
“Gerard.” I replied shortly, then sat silently.
I went back to my drawing but I couldn’t concentrate, I sat with my pen poised for a minute or so but I didn’t trust myself to touch it to the paper.
I turned to Frank, “Look, I’m really sorry about earlier.”
“How do you mean?” He frowned.
“Like, I watched them push you around at break time and did nothing. I’ve been bullied by the same lot for the past few years and I wanted to stop them, but I didn’t, I wanted to walk up and help you, but I didn’t. Because I’m a coward. Then when they were taking a shot at me you come up all brave, despite them taking advantage of you earlier, despite me seeing and not helping you when you were in need, and put a stop to it. Then to top it all, I hardly show any gratitude and just hurry off to class with my head down, and I don’t even so much as look at you!” I breathed out heavily at the end, I needed to get it off my chest although I didn’t feel any better than I’d done before. Plus, I was probably about to lose the first person who’d wanted to be my friend in like, I don’t know, what, five years?
“Oh that?” Frank smiled, “Don’t worry, I don’t care, what matters is that you’re fine now and I am too. It’s in the past, just forget it mate.”
I looked back at the desk, no, I didn’t deserve this guy, he could have way better friends than me. I turned my attention back to my drawing and put the pen to the paper, after tracing a few lines I lifted it and turned the paper around slightly.
“Is that Morrissey?” Frank suddenly asked.
“Yeah,” I answered looking up at him with a shy smile, “He’s my idol, and I’m glad it actually looks like him a little.”
“A little?” Frank exclaimed, “It’s like the perfect copy! Gerard, you’re honestly amazing at drawing!”
I let out a shy giggle which actually surprised me a bit, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” He smiled back, “And I love the Smiths, they’re one of my favourite bands!”
“Really? Me too!” I replied and he laughed. “What’s your favourite song by them?”
“I’m not sure, it changes a lot,” He rubbed his chin a bit, “I think at this precise moment it’d have to be This Charming Man. What about you?”
“I don’t have a favourite.” I replied quickly, “I like all of them.”
We sat and talked for the rest of the lesson, my drawing lay, forgotten on the table, as we discussed music and gigs and laughed about stuff. For the first time in ages I was having a conversation with someone who was interested about the same stuff and just as enthusiastic as I was.
Frank was quite a short guy, with olive skin and black hair. He had green eyes and smiled a lot. He was into the same music as me and we were getting on well. There was something about him which made me forget how depressed I was, how anxious I was, how much I hated myself and how much I wanted to die. His constant happiness seemed to rub off on me and I became a different person.
Mr Barnes seemed to notice too as he came up to us during the period, “This isn’t like you, Mr Way! You’re talking over favour of drawing, though I must say it is a very high quality drawing. Is this a new friend?”
Frank laughed as I blushed, Mr Barnes winked and walked off, leaving me and Frank to continue talking.
“Gerard,” Frank said just before the bell rung, “You seem like a nice person, I quite like you.”
He stared intently at me and I looked back, that was when I realised how beautiful his eyes were.

Notes

I'll do one in Frank's P.O.V next!! Anyway, I hope you like it, I do enjoy writing it!
Feedback is welcome, thanks x c: