open.:lovesongs:.

[Alex Thomas]

And I don’t want the world to see me…

…Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.

Love songs, they kill me, they kill me...now. Love songs are killing me, are killing me...right now. Love songs are killing me, are killing me...right now. Alex was staying after school to work on an art project. He had his I-Home set up and Cinema Bizarre was blasting out of the speakers. He had a large piece of paper set up on an easel and a box of colored chalk sitting on a stool next to the easel. He had the red chalk in his hands and was studying his work from a few feet back. Then he stepped forward, closer to the artwork and started working again, his hand flying over the page. He’d been working a lot since his encounter with Cody, to keep his mind off of everything. He didn’t want to think about it; and, he wasn’t going to talk to the junior. He was determined to just let it go; it just needed time and it wouldn’t bother him anymore. He bit his lip, furrowing his brow as he worked. He dropped the red into the basket of chalk and brushed his hands off on his jeans before grabbing the black.

He smiled slightly as he added black to the mix of yellow, red, and orange that was on the page already. Their assignment was to think of their home and draw the first thing that came to their mind. Alex’s drawing wasn’t anything distinct, it was more a blur of colors. He didn’t know what the teacher would say, but he didn’t care. To him, his home wasn’t anything concrete, it wasn’t something pleasant. It was a jumbled mess of negative emotions; and, that’s what he wanted to convey. Whether or not anyone else got it from his work, he didn’t care, because it held meaning to him. He sang along softly with the song and dropped the black into the basket. He grabbed the blue, but dropped it onto the floor accidently. After picking it up, he realized there was someone standing by the door. He turned down the music a bit, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the person’s presence.

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[Amity Corynn Morgan.]

watch out stay awake they're lurking
, obsess you they are always working .

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Amity had been wandering the halls again when she'd heard somebody singing, what she guessed was the radio blasting from the Art room. She had been an artist when she was younger and still had an amazing natural talent at sketching likenesses and animals, but she'd dropped the class for Theater and French. Her instinct told her not to go in, but her feet told her otherwise, stepping across the dingy, industrial carpet and into the room.

A black-haired boy sat in front of an easel, colored chalk in hand, the work in front of him a blur of colors. The radio was actually an iHome and the song was even louder in the confinements of the Art Wing. She felt like she should turn back, now that her curiosity had been filled, but Amity was no cat. There was no danger in just watching him.

The boy turned around to see her there. She immediately dropped her eyes, and sank back into the wall, away from the door. The girl spoke to the floor. 'Sorry, I was just ... watching.' She attempted to explain. Her long, golden curls fell in front of her face and muffled her downward-directed voice even more. Over the music, she would be surprised if the boy heard her or even saw her lips moving. She would just be considered as a freak, like always. But perhaps now it was time to meet a new person, come out of her shell. Amity shuddered. The idea terrified her. She looked up from the linoleum floor carefully, her blue eyes darting up to shyly view his reaction to her awkward greeting.

[Alex Thomas]

And I don’t want the world to see me…

…Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.

He couldn’t really tell what the blond girl had said. She’d spoken so softly and looking at the floor so it was really hard to hear what she’d said over the sound of his music. He thought he heard part of an apology, though. He turned down the music a bit more and said, “It’s a public room; I can’t really be mad at you for being here.” He smiled slightly at the shy girl and turned back to his work. It was screaming at him to finish. He hated leaving things unfinished, which was why he had an issue with art class. He’d be in the middle of a project and then it’d be time to leave. He almost always ended up staying after or coming in to school early to finish because it’d bug him otherwise. He didn’t know why he was like that, just that he was. He grabbed the purple and started adding some depth to the blackened areas with it. He glanced over his shoulder to see if the girl was still there before looking at the easel again. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” It’d be easy for him to have over-looked her if she wasn’t new with the lack of attention he paid to most of the school.

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