A/N: The first of many stories conjured up by my lunatic of a brain.
If you haven't read this yet, consider yourself lucky, because I just edited this.
You won't have to deal with my horrible grammar and spelling.
(at least not as much as the beta readers had to put up with...)
But even if you have already read this, I encourage you to read it again, because I changed a few things and added extra parts.
Again, I replaced all the chapters with the edited ones, so if something's off please tell me.
Seriously, let me know if there's anything screwy with this okay?
Falling under has a Sequel! Partly because I got bored one weekend...
Anyways if you're bored and have nothing to do, check it out.
I appreciate all the support!
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Disclaimer: I own nothing. No matter how much I adore Garry... (Don't we all?)
The sensation of floating...
Everything spiraling horribly out of control...
the lines of reality blur...
A single rose...
In exchange for another...
Time stops.
The tragedy repeats...
Once more... I'm falling under...
Chapter 1: A Little Less Than Normal
I really did mean to draw something else... But it seems whenever I sketch without thought, I draw Him.
The sleeping one. He's a painting at Guertena's gallery. The Forgotten portrait.
In a word? He's beautiful. His tangled, lilac hair cascades so it's covering one eye. The detail of the painting is remarkable...
Oh well. It can't be helped I thought. Too late to draw something else.
It's strange. I feel as if I'm about to remember something whenever I draw him... Like I should remember him...
In my picture his eyes are open, smiling blissfully at a rose. Since I had extra time, I decided to color certain parts of my sketch. His now violet eyes stared brightly at me, as if to say 'Nice to see you again'.
"Okay Class! Finish up your sketches so we can start painting tomorrow. Put them in the back when you're done. Pack things up in ten!" our teacher, Mrs. Karin called. "Oh, and don't forget that our trip to the gallery is a week from today. Be sure to remember to arrive here a little earlier than usual."
I was putting the finishing touches on his rose when four people from another table, three girls and a boy, wandered into my deserted work area.
"Hey look it's the monster girl."
"So, what'd the little witch draw?"
"Aw, is it her boyfriend?"
"Pff! As if! Who the hell would wanna date the little faggot?"
"You know? Something not right with this picture... He should have ugly monster eyes just like you!"
The boy grabbed a red marker off of the table and proceeded to inking in my portrait's already violet eyes. I snatched my sketch before the marker made contact. I was shaking with anger. I felt sort of compelled to protect the man in the picture from harm. On top of that, there was no way I was going to let this group of idiots defile my picture.
"Don't touch him." My tone carried a steely edge.
"Aw, she's protecting her little picture from looking ugly just like her!"
"Too bad nothing you draw will ever look good!" They all laughed.
I grit my teeth, but otherwise stay silent. They continue to laugh. I avert my eyes to avoid their evil glares. Then I notice the hanging paint rack in the back of the room was vibrating. It stopped so suddenly I almost considered I imagined it, but then three red paint tubes and a glass jar full of black paint exploded. Several students screamed and backed away to avoid the mess. Red and black paint dripped onto the floor and walls, but more importantly onto four specific sketches. All the other pictures in the back of the room remained spotless.
"Aw, what the...?"
"S-shit! My sketch! "
"Oh my god. Mine too!"
"What the hell?!"
Strange... how only their works had been damaged, but I couldn't help smiling. As they fussed over what to do over their ruined sketches, I turned back to my own. Sorry, they didn't damage you or anything right? I thought. Naturally I had to create a voice for my portrait.
No... But they certainly got what they deserved! Jerks...
I gave the mental equivalent of a laugh. I glanced at the clock. One more minuet.
Sighing I got up to put my picture at the back counter with the rest of them. I glanced down once more at the canvas. He now stared forlornly at me. I stared back sadly. I'll come back tomorrow. I'll finish painting you then.
"Don't leave me..." A voice filled with such longing and desperation entered my mind. It was so soft and quiet... I thought I imagined it.
I gave one last look at him before I turned to leave.
Tomorrow... I thought as I turned to leave.