if there's no love, what then?

he  pulled  his  shoulders  up  in  a  shrug  before down  again.  art  school  was  …  brandon didn’t  even  know  how  to  describe  it.  had  he  even  studied enough  to  know  what  it  was  all  about  and  make  an  accurate  picture? probably  not.  most  of  his  time  was  spent  somewhere else,  away  from  his  assignments and  professors,  somewhere that  lead  him  down  a  path  that  only  fattened his  wallet  and  inflated  his  ego--brandon  didn’t really  learn  anything. ruby  was  pretty when  she  laughed. he  spun  the  sketchbook  back  to  face  him  and  shook  his  head,  adding the  phrase  ‘  ruby’s  mortal enemy  ’  underneath the  cartoons  feet.  she  could  take  the  sketch  of  herself,  but  brandon  was  going  to  keep  that  one  for  himself.  “  it’s school, i  mean—nobody  really likes  school,  no?  ”  he  blinked,  realized who  he  was  talking  to  and  what  they  were  studying  to  be,  and  smiled  sheepishly, “  my  time  at  art  school  was  just  …  different  than  what  i  thought  it  was  going  to  be.  maybe  kind  of  like  your  history class—expecting  it  to  be  one  thing,  and  then  having it  turn  out  to  be  another.  ”

brandon  relaxed  once  again,  his  legs  stretching out  in  front  of  him  as  his  back  leaned against  the  chair. retreating  back  into  his  own  world,  her  words  creating a  sort  of  soundtrack  that  swirled  around in  his  brain  and  led  his  pencil on  the  paper. the  atmosphere  of  the  diner, usually  a  place  crammed  with  frustration  and  failure  for  the  male,  suddenly  seemed calmer  as  though the  buzzing  that  went  on  in  his  head  had  faded  out  and  he  was  able  to  hear  things  clearer, hear  her  clearer. “  why  did  you  pick  english  to  teach?  ”  he  asked, taking  a  pause  from  his  drawing  to  focus  his  eyes  on  her.    there was  not  any  judgement  in  his  tone  at  her  mention  of  her  preferred career  choice.  brandon used  to  have  a  plan  for  what  he  wanted his  career  to  be,  where  he  wanted to  end  up  …  but  so  did  his  family and  his  mentors,  and  his  fans  and  they  all  worked together  to  pull, wring  his  neck and  always  demand more,  more,  MORE.  he  couldn’t  take  it.  the  rather  vivid  description  of  ruby’s  hated  professor  caused a  small  chuckle to  escape  from  him  and  in  the  corner  of  his  page,  he  drew  a  small  cartoon  of  her  professor: unruly  beard,  stained clothes  and  all.  turning  the  sketchpad  so  she  was  able  to  see  it  right  side  up,  the  male  sent  her  a  small  smile  and  his  eyebrows  raised up  some.  “  i  did  for  a  bachelor’s  degree in  fine  arts—it was  supposed  to  be  four  years,  but  i,  ah,  left  after  a  year  and  a  half.  ”    he  said  plainly,  taking a  hand  up  again  to  scratch  his  cheek  but  stopped midway. close  call.

brandon  worked slowly—leisurely—as  his  eyes  darted  from  ruby  to  his  page  before  to  ruby  and  back  again. despite  his  prior  attempts  of  drawing  something earlier  on  in  the  evening, he  didn’t  worry  about  getting her  necessarily  perfect  as  though  he  was  trying to  recreate  an  exact  replica of  what  he  was  seeing with  his  own  eyes  in  the  impossible strive  for  perfection. he  allowed  himself to  be  freer, letting  his  charcoal pencil  glide  easily on  the  paper. the  male  did  not  respond right  away  as  it  would  have  been  expected  in  a  regular conversation.  instead  brandon let  the  two  of  them  sit  in  silence,  enjoying the  presence  by  not  having to  fill  every  single  loud  bout  of  silence  with  words.  if  only  his  younger  self  could  see  himself  now,  having  changed from  somebody  who  would  not  stop  screaming  to  a  man  who  wished everybody  in  the  world  would  just  stop for  one  single second  to  take  a  freaking breath.  “  you’re—in art  school?  ”  the  mere  mention  of  the  word  caused  the  hairs  on  the  back  of  his  neck  to  tingle,  furrowing his  eyebrows  as  images  of  his  own  art  school experiences  flashed  through his  mind.  they  weren’t  exactly painful  or  traumatic  memories but  rather  reminders of  his  own  skewed  belief that  he  was  better  than  everybody  else.  that  he  didn’t  need to  learn  more  than  what  he  already knew  because,  well,  he  had  already  knew  enough.  people always  referred  to  themselves  as  young  and  foolish  but  for  some  reason  (  and  yet  again  in  his  godforsaken life  ),  brandon was  special  because he  felt  the  sentiment  more  deeper  than  anybody  else.  “  you  mean  like  learning  about  famous  artists, their  most  famous works,  time  period they  created  in,  things  like  that?  ”

woah.  brandon  already did  not  believe that  her  face  had  the  potential  to  have  an  effect  on  his  breathing but  her  voice  was  worse. he  did  not  expect  to  become  somewhat lost  in  it,  along  with  the  actual response  of  the  words  that  brandon  knew  must  have  had  some  sort  of  meaning.  the  hell  was  wrong  with  him  right  now? maybe it  was  smart  to  cut  back  on  his  caffeine like  his  mother had  scolded  him  to  if  this  was  the  reaction it  was  beginning to  invoke  in  him.  brandon didn’t  like  it—he  didn’t  comprehend  it.  he  did  however  have  enough  awareness to  hear  her  name:  ruby. it  fit  her,  anyone  with  half  a  brain  could  tell  that  though.  not  anticipating  for  her  to  touch  him,  brandon  pulled back  from  her  somewhat  suddenly as  his  eyes  had  grown  wider.  it  was  not  an  unwelcomed act  by  any  means,  merely out  of  the  blue.  “  uh—oh.  ”  was  all  the  male  was  able  to  muster as  his  gaze  dropped  down  to  his  black  hands  and  groaned.  the  messiest  medium, yes,  of  course brandon  had  to  chose  this  as  his  preferred  mode  of  art.  grabbing  one  of  the  napkins  on  the  table  while  ruby  had  whisked away  into  the  washroom,  he  quickly  wiped  off  his  face  and  his  hands  to  the  best  of  his  abilities. when  she  returned, brandon  was  more  careful  this  time,  flipping over  to  another blank  piece  of  paper  and  taking  a  deep  breath before  starting  from  scratch  to  draw  her  again.    “  what  are  you  reading? ”  he  asked.

he  didn’t  expect his  breath  to  suddenly  hitch  between  his  lips  once  she  had  put  her  hair  up  and  he  was  able  to  see  her  face  in  its  entirety.  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  it  so  up  close  and  he  took  notice of  every  small  detail  that  he  was  not  able  to  from  his  usual spot  of  admiring  from  the  opposite side  of  the  diner.  furrowing his  eyebrows  together with  pursed  lips  (  and  a  lack  of  any  true  conviction in  his  talents ),  brandon  began  to  draw  the  outline of  the  females face  first  before sketching  her  jaw  and  her  ears.  the  eyes,  the  nose,  and  the  mouth  however,  he  left  blank—unable  to  trust  his  own  self  to  capture the  intricate  delicates and  nuances  that  resided  there. it  did  feel  nice  to  draw  something that  did  not  consist  of  a  chubby farm  animals  or  a  stupid lazy  robot  for  once.  realizing the  uneasiness  that  was  soon  casted  over  her  features at  his  presence, brandon  blinked  a  few  times  (  almost as  though  he  was  being  woken  up  from  some  creative  daze  )  and  sat  up  straighter  in  his  seat,  bending  his  legs  closer to  himself.  “  yeah  uh—yeah, that’s  perfect.  i’m  just  using  you  as  a  model  is  all.  i’m  an—”  artist.  brandon cut  himself  short  of  speaking the  word  out  loud,  bringing all  of  it’s  weight  that  came  along  with  it.  “  i  draw  sometimes. ”  almost  as  though  were  a  calculated metaphor  about  not  being  able  to  take  back  things once  they  were  already  said  and  done,  brandon’s  hand  rubbed  his  chin,  wiping black  charcoal  all  over  it  before  reaching a  hand  for  her  to  shake.  “  i’m  called brandon.  you  can  have  it  after  i’m  done  with  it.  ”  he  was  not  going  to  use  the  word  ‘satisfied’  in  reference  to  how  his  image  would  turn  out.  “  it’s  not  for  some  weird  collection  that  i  keep  in  my  attic  or  something.  ”

a  half  filled coffee  mug  was  to  his  right,  a  sketchpad  to  his  left,  brandon  had  his  elbows propped  up  on  the  booth  table  in  the  middle, a  sigh  escaping him  as  he  held  his  head  in  his  hands  for  a  moment.  again. here  he  was  a  g  a  i  n.  in  the  same  place  he  frequented  what  seemed  like  (  and  probably  was )  every.  single. night.  brandon  told  himself  it  was  because he  was  able  to  think better  at  the  diner,  because the  silence  that  blanketed  his  home  just  caused  his  mind  to  wonder  to  places  where  he  didn’t like  it  but  the  truth  was---  brandon couldn’t  even  put  a  word  to  the  way  he  was  feeling and  he  hated it.  an  artist was  supposed  to  be  able  to  show  their  emotions through  their  artwork and  yet  all  the  male  had  to  show  for  what  was  going  on  in  his  head  was  a  white  sheet  of  paper,  smudged all  over  it  with  black charcoal.  is  this  really  what  it  has  come  to  for  him?  but  that’s when  she  walked in.  hair  as  red  as  fire,  he  couldn’t  possibly miss  her.  of  course  he  had  taken  notice  of  her,  how  could  you  not?  she  visited  the  diner  as  much  as  he  did,  not  saying much  to  anyone and  disappeared  into  her  own  world.  brandon flipped  until  a  blank  page  and  began  to  sketch her  face  …  if  only  she  didn’t have  her  hair  blocking  half  of  it.  feeling  rather in  his  element being  in  the  diner  and  the  caffeine buzzing  through  his  veins,  brandon picked  up  his  sketchpad  and  moved  to  sit  in  front  of  the  female, slapping  down  his  sketchpad  on  the  table  in  front  of  him.  leaning  back  against  the  backside  of  the  chair, the  male  stuck  his  legs  out  in  front  of  him  and  cleared  his  throat  (  as  if  she  had  the  ability to  be  unaware of  his  presence )  to  get  her  attention before  asking,  “  could  you  put  your  hair  up?  ”

so i finally broke down and made luca a singlemuse blog like he deserved !!!!! it is still pretty under construction but i will be spending more of my time on him instead !!!

in luca’s life, he hardly left any room to be alone. an extrovert in every sense of the word, the male thrived with the company of others and he absolutely despised being alone. therefore it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for the male to have invested a particular interest in a stranger ( in this case, the beautiful lorena ) and whisk them away on a rather impromptu adventure. luca didn’t spend much ( if any ) time however on wondering how she felt about being taken away. nevertheless, luca hadn’t heard the word no leave her lips at all since he decided they went on the outing. “ a past life, a next life. that’s all very poetic of yourself if you were to ask me. what would you say if i believed that we were to have met in a past life and are meeting again in this life? ” the male asked, his eyebrow quirking and a lopsided smile weaving itself back on his lips once again, aimlessly tracing designs on her thigh with his fingertip lightly. “ i would believe that would be rather romantic to be meeting again, don’t you? but would anteros, the god of requited love be ever so kind to us? ” the male mused with a playful chuckle, reaching to take her free hand and lace their fingers together. “ if i were to say a date, would that be too forward of me? or just the right amount of forward that it’s charming? ”