Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious. I`m too busy as it is.
A/N: This was for the Bade Prompts round 4. The prompt was "Pencils." Enjoy!
(Beck)
I love you.
They're simple words. Too simple. They're used too much. They have no meaning. But when Jade says them, my world shakes. My grip on reality falters because, out of the blue, this incredible girl is telling me she loves me. I know she means it. She's the only one in the world who still does. Jade doesn't just say things.
She's told me so many times how much she loves me. I never say it back. I do love her. More than my own life, I worship her. But I never tell her. Words are meaningless. I can't show her how I feel with just words. No one means words like Jade means them. I can't compete. Can't expect her to believe just words.
An idea comes to me one night while I'm at her house. We lay curled against each other on her couch, watching The Scissoring, Jade's favorite movie. I turn to look at her and the beauty of her features suddenly overwhelms me. Suddenly, she's more beautiful than humanly possible. More beautiful than any woman in those classic paintings. She was always this beautiful. Why am I just now seeing it?
I wonder in that moment if she knows how beautiful she is.
You're beautiful.
Two more overused words. Two more words that have lost meaning. Two more words I never say to Jade.
Does Jade know how much I love her? Does Jade know how beautiful she is? Why aren't I cliché enough to just try telling her anyway? If words don't express it enough I can still show her in other ways.
Show her.
Yes. I'll show her.
The movie ends, the main character standing in a pool of her friend's blood, wiping it from the blades of her scissors. I kiss Jade goodnight and speed home, knowing how I can show her my love.
That night and the rest of the week I draw Jade a picture every day. Always of her. Essentially. Each picture is something beautiful about her and another reason I love her.
The first day I draw shadow. Jade is dark and alluring just like the shadows. Her mysteries are a part of her I love to explore. There is so much more to her than one can initially see. She is complex. It's beautiful.
My second drawing is of music, notes on a staff swirling through the air. Jade is nothing if not music. The sound of her voice can carry someone away. In a few bars of a song she will take a listener to a paradise beyond their imagination. I love her for it.
And so it goes on like this. I surpass my intended week easily, every day thinking of something new, another aspect of my beautiful Jade that I'll love forever.
Every day, I draw in pencil. It's imperfect, smudging and scratching sometimes, but it corrects itself, erasing and drawing over and fitting my design. It's as close to perfect as I'll ever need.
Jade is as close to perfect as I'll ever need. Sure she gets angry or unreasonable sometimes. Who cares? I can't think of anyone I'd rather be with.
Eventually, I stop my drawings. Not because I run out of ideas. Because I was missing the point. I didn't want the drawings for me. They were supposed to go to Jade. They were supposed to show how much I love her. What's the use if she never sees?
The very next day upon my realizing this, I bring all the drawings to school. I have spent almost an entire month drawing pictures for Jade. All twenty five sit in a portfolio decorated with my final drawing: scissors.
"Hi," I greet Jade casually, leaning against the wall by her locker.
She turns, confused for a second until she sees me. "Oh, hey babe," she responds, reaching her arms around my neck and pulling me into a kiss.
I fumble in my bag for the drawings as we pull apart. "These are for you."
She gives me a funny look. "What's this?"
"Open it," I urge.
She pulls the sheaf of papers cautiously out of the portfolio. "Beck," she gasps. "They're beautiful."
"They're you."
"What?"
"Each picture is something about you I love," I explain.
She kisses me again, harder this time, and I hold her close. "Why?" she breathes, curious.
"I never tell you how much I love you or how beautiful you are."
She laughs softly. "You're too sweet."
"Uh oh," I joke. "You hate sweet."
"But I love you."
Sometimes I think that maybe my relationship with Jade was drawn in pencils. It started out as a rough sketch and, as we struggled to smooth the edges, it reshaped itself, adding depth and developing into something amazing. I wish it actually was drawn out on paper somewhere. Something this beautiful belongs in a museum. It's not quite perfect, but it's as close to it as we'll ever need.
A/N: This was probably fluffier than my last one. Oh well. Fluff is fun. It`s cute and sincere.
It would be awesome if you reviewed. Constructive criticism is welcomed, too. NO FLAMES!
;D