Canvas (Stilinski - 1)

22 - Watercolour world

2 more weeks passed, and, like most days, i sat in the library across from Stiles. We shared free periods, and usually ended up abandoning homework and talking quietly at our favourite table, hidden behind a few bookshelves. It was a comfortable routine to fall into, meeting at the large entry way and quietly moving to our secluded corner of the vast space. At first, we talked about all of the normal things, things people talk about when they're not dealing with a supernatural things - but we didn't talk about the kiss we had shared.

(flashback)

We sat in the same spot, our chins on folded arms as we glanced at one another from across the smooth, dark wood table. He had asked me what my favourite colour is.

"Orange," I said after a moment of thinking it over, then, "What?" when i noticed the goofy smile that had spread across his face. It was rather attractive to be perfectly honest. 

"Orange is one of my favourites too. Orange and Blue." He had replied, looking as though he was remembering a fond moment from his past

"The colours of the Mets!" I laughed softly, careful not to earn a shushing from the librarian for a third time that day. At that moment, his face lit up even more

"You like the Mets?" He asked, sounding astonished. I shrugged

"My dad loved them, he once said that i would need to find a new house if i didn't like them" I smiled at the memory, thinking about all of the times that i would sit on our old sagging couch between my father and Jordan, cheering when our much loved team was doing well, and passive aggressively stewing in silence when they were not.  

"Oh my god, marry me." Stiles joked, but as soon as the words left his lips a deep blush enveloped his usually pale complexion, and my gaze fell back to the work in front of me, my own cheeks burning.

(end of flashback)

"It's a weird world," Stiles mumbled, returning his pen to the page in front of him. We were discussing the things - the supernatural things - that he, Scott, Allison and Lydia had encountered before i became aware of well, a whole other existence.

Weird doesn't remotely begin to cover it. Weird is coincidentally matching a friends outfit. Weird is pouring icy rain when the forecast claimed we would see sunshine. Weird is saying the same thing at the same time as another person without planning it. Weird is not werewolves and banshees and feeling the emotions of other people; those things are a completely different ball park. I pondered his statement for a moment longer, turning over the various existential wonderments i've previously made in my brain.  

"It's like painting with watercolours." I thought aloud after a few minutes of quiet apart from the sound of pen on paper and the soft hum of people moving around us, lifting my eyes to meet the brown ones of the boy who watched me carefully from across the table. "It's delicate and you can blend people or events, like colours, together, smooth them across a page, but if you use too much water things become distorted. If you don't use enough the blending becomes difficult and the painting lacks balance. One wrong or accidental stroke of the brush, and two hues may blend together that end up creating the most foul colour in the world, or they may make something so beautiful you couldn't have created it purposefully." As i spoke the last words a smile graced Stiles' lips, the small, half grin he does that dimples his cheeks. I'm not sure what the emotion that radiated around our corner of the vast library was, emanating from his figure, but it was good, and it filled my body with a feeling of warmth; similar to the sensation obtained when you light a candle on a rainy day. Comfort and joy.