Im sorry I havent been posting anything in a full month! Today I finally got a break from Uni, atleast for a couple of days. This is a wip of Manon(was going to draw Aelin but I started thinking about dragons and well…). I decided to give her eastern asian like features just to make look a bit different.
I was thinking that during the summer I can maybe start doing commissions. Let me know if you guys are interested.
Alex Standall was a beautiful human being. He was smart, really sassy, he played guitar, and that boy could rock a bleach blonde hairstyle better than any man I knew. And I was hopelessly and madly in love with him.
But, as it is with most good love stories, he didn’t like me back. In fact, he really didn’t like me at all. I believe his exact words when asked about me were “She’s a shallow bitch who doesn’t care about anyone but herself. No, I have no desire to have a friendship with her, let alone even talk with her.” Suffice to say, I had a threesome with Ben and Jerrys that night.
Since that day, I’ve watched from afar as he sat in class, mindlessly tapping his pencil on his desk as he gazed out the window with those baby blue eyes. I watched as he played with his band, his head nodding slightly to the beat as his fingers deftly moved up and down the guitar. I watched as he sat with his friends in the cafeteria, his brow furrowed deep in thought as a pencil raced across a piece of paper, scribbling and crossing out as he tried to write out lyrics. I watched as he broke into a grin while Justin playfully elbowed him in the ribs, grabbing the pencil from his hand as he reenacted last night’s game winning play.
I watched as he yelled at Bryce for smacking Sheri’s ass as she walked by in history the other day, and I watched as he smirked victoriously when Bryce went up to apologize.
I watched as he stared with a blank expression after Bryce did the same thing to me yesterday.
I watched as he caught me staring at him in English, and he rolled his eyes, a deep frown slicing it’s way across his face as he turned in the other direction. I watched as we were assigned partners for an in class project, and when our names were read out, he walked up to the teacher and in a stage whisper, asked if he could be partnered with anyone else. I watched as my friends and I sat down at his lunch table last week (because my best friend Miranda was Zach’s newest fling) and he made eye contact with me, stood up, and left. I watched from the corner of my eye, standing ten feet down the hall at my locker, as he raved to Marcus about how he doesn’t “understand how everyone likes me, why Y/N’s so fucking popular because all she does is shop and get drunk. And when she missed all that school last year? What was her excuse, that she had a family emergency? Please. She probably got pregnant and didn’t tell anyone. She’s a snobby bitch.” I watched as he saw me slam the door closed and brush past him, tears streaming down my face. I watched as he smirked victoriously, ignoring the the sympathetic look Marcus shot me and the vicious glare Marcus shot him.
Then came Hannah’s suicide. It took me by surprise, I’d always been friendly with her. I cried, I went to her funeral, I gave her parents flowers. She was a sweetheart who’d been dealt a shitty hand, and of the shit that happened in this school, she took the brunt of it. But something happened with her, something bigger, something that I didn’t totally understand nor care to be a part of, because I saw how badly it was hurting others.
I watched as Alex receded into a shell of the person he’d once been. I watched as he snapped at Justin, yelled at Courtney, and had a meltdown in the middle of the hallway about how kids shouldn’t be “fucking douchebags.” I watched as he started wearing long sleeves in the spring, and he started talking less and sitting alone more. I watched as he stopped acting like he cared, blatantly ditching classes and not doing his work. I watched as he no longer found the joy in things he had in the past.
Something in the air was different on the walk to school this morning. Maybe it was the crisp air, or a shift in the wind that was making everyone antsy. It felt off. And then, when I got closer to the gates, I saw what it was. Monty and Alex were squaring off, and Alex started yelling at Monty. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, sketchbook clutched under my arm, ignoring the cries of Miranda behind me. One of the bigger football players started to get excited, waving his hands around. In the half second his thick arm crossed my field of vision, and the second after it moved out of my way, Alex was on the ground, blood pouring out of his nose. My eyes widened, and my mouth dropped open as he stood up and lunged at Monty, with Monty neatly placing a fist right into Alex’s left eye. Alex fell to the ground again, and Monty stepped foward, towering over Alex with one fist cocked. I squeezed my eyes shut- I couldn’t watch this. But then I heard the voice of an actual angel and my eyes shot open. Mr. Porter was sprinting over, yelling at all of us for watching and not stopping the fight. The crowd fled, and Porter grabbed both boys by the arm. Monty laughed, a darkly evil chuckle as he pulled his arm out of Porter’s grip and adjusted his hoodie. Alex yanked his arm away, flipping his jacket hood over his head as he stalked away from Porter. I raced after him, staying just a few steps behind him as he wandered through the empty halls into the third floor boys bathroom.
The door slammed shut behind him and I paused at the corner of the hall, my heart pounding as I contemplated what to do. I chewed on the fingernail on my pinkie as I hesitantly stepped forward, placing my hand on the rough wood grain of the bathroom door until I pushed it open, finding Alex sitting on the ground in the corner, his head on his knees. He didn’t look until I had taken one step in, my heels clicking on the floor and the door slamming shut behind me. His pale face was already starting to bruise, with dark purple marks forming below his eye and two cuts slicing across his nose. His right cheek had a dark red scrape on it, reaching from the corner of his eye down to right above his jawline. His nose was still bleeding, leaving a large maroon mark on his shirt and a steady line from his nose down over his chin, where it dripped into a small puddle on the floor. His blue eyes were watery, and he quickly wiped them with his jacket. The face that he showed me in that split second was an expression I’d never seen on him before. It was a look of total confusion, of a little kid who didn’t know where to go or what he was doing. It was the look of someone who was in too deep to something he couldn’t get out of, the look of someone who was totally alone, who had nobody to turn to, who didn’t know how to cope on his own.
But once he wiped away the tears, the hardened expression of hatred I was so used to seeing on his face returned. “What the fuck do you want, Y/L/N?” I sighed, turning to lock the door behind me.
“I want to help. Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m fucking okay? No. Go away, I don’t need you.” He pushed himself up on the ground, stumbling slightly as he lurched forward with the effort of standing. I could see he was bleeding from another large cut on his knee, making it painful for him to stand. I dropped my bag and sketchbook on the ground and hurried over, supporting him as he stood, teetering slightly. “I’m fine. Get off of me.”
“You’re not fine. Why were you fighting with Monty? He’s one of your friends, I thought.”
“Yeah, well, things aren’t what they seem. Go away.” “Shut the fuck up, Standall. Sit down.” He sat down immediately, his eyebrows raising as my tone of voice changed to something he’d never heard before.
“Jeez,Y/N. I’m fine.”
“Pinch the bridge of your nose and tilt your head back.” He rolled his eyes, but did as I said as I wadded up a paper towel and handed it to him. “Stick that in your nostril.” He wordlessly accepted the paper, glaring at me down his nose as I wet another paper towel. Gently, I dabbed at the dried blood on his face and through the rip on his knee. “You may need stitches for this.” I gently touched the cut that was running the length of his face. He was silent while I checked over his injuries, only wincing slightly when I handed him an ice cold wet towel to put on his black eye. So, I was surprised when he decided to speak.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I wanted to.”
I didn’t answer him, and he stared at me with his piercing eyes until he asked a follow up question. “How do you know all this medical stuff?”
I hesitated before answering. “It’s a long story. I… my mom… she was…sick for a really long time last year. I decided that I wanted to do something to help with medical stuff, and I joined the volunteer ambulance corps last year.” He raised his eyebrows, nodding once and turning a slight shade of red, avoiding eye contact with me. I turned away, digging through my bag for a band aid. When I turned back, he had my sketch book open on his lap, and he was flipping through the pages.
“Give that back! That’s private!”
“You’re…good. You’re like really good. Why don’t you show this off?”
“Because I like to keep things private. I don’t like people knowing my business.”
“I didn’t know you were good at art.” I handed him the bandaid, tears brimming in my eyes as I snatched the sketch book away from him and scooped my bag off the floor. “Yeah. There’s a lot you don’t know about this slutty, snobby bitch. Thing’s aren’t always what they seem, Alex.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you are. You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that if you want my help ever again.”
a/n: I hope this was at least sort of what you were looking for! i wasn’t sure how to end it b/c i want them to end up together but i also didn’t want her to forgive him just like that cuz lbh he was a total dickwad to her soooo maybe part 2??? lmk! :)
“Gladiator Merman from ancient Rome” yeah I know… I just found an old sketch book from my high school years, so I thought it could be nice to rescue some drawings & update them a little, just to keep the creative flows going for the next portraits