Hello~! What's up? This is a new fanfiction that I thought of in the middle of math class when I was staring at an air freshener… XP I know, how the heck did I think of fanfiction while staring at an air freshener? Answer: I don't really know, I just did. Anyways, here is my new fanfiction (even though I need to finish the others…) Painting My Own World.
***WARNING FIRST CHAPTER REALLY SUCKS IT GETS BETTER LATER ON I PROMISE***
Light from the sunset pours in through the window of the school art supply room. Matthew Williams sits in this room alone watching the sun set with blank eyes; void of emotion. He tore his gaze away from the setting sun to look at the white canvas in front of him waiting to be painted and he picked up a small paintbrush and held it to the canvas waving it back and forth thinking of what to paint. He had painted many paintings ever since his childhood.
Matthew was never noticed by others and the usually forgot about him frequently, even his parents did. The only time people ever notice him is to bully him or humiliate him. His twin brother, Alfred, was the louder of the two and he got more attention since he had 'more potential'. Alfred was also the cause of most of his bullying problem as well. Alfred played a lot of pranks on others and they would usually look for revenge. Then, they would see Matthew and take it out on him thinking that he was Alfred.
How they couldn't tell the two apart, he didn't know. Alfred had more muscle and was built for rough games like football. He wore clothes that showed off his muscles and was flirtatious from time to time. Matthew had more of a feminine figure and was small compared to others his age and wore loose fitting clotting to cover up his figure. Basically, Matthew was girly and Alfred was the jock. Alfred would have football practice after school and Matthew was always stuck waiting for him after school. This was usually the time bullies would strike and corner him.
He was walking around school one day after another one of his beatings when he had wandered into the art room. When he had first stepped into the room, he was captured by the beauty of it all. The room was not messy nor to clean, but just the right way as to give it a comforting look. Unfinished canvases laid in a corner begging to be finished and paint brushes were in cups everywhere. One wall was completely covered in different bottles of paint and on the opposite wall was a big window to give the room lighting.
It was a wondrous sight to him at least, since his life was very grey and devoid of color or happiness. He had wandered to the walls and picked out paint, a canvas, and a brush and he had made his first painting. The painting of course was unprofessional, but hey, it was his first time painting. Ever since then, he had made at least one painting every week and improved his skills until he soon was a master of the arts. It was just a way for him to let out his emotions; an outlet.
Matthew was very self-conscious of his work however and had skillfully hidden them. There was a hidden trapdoor in the wall he had found while looking for more canvases and he had just stored them all there for now until he found a new home for them.
Each would reflect how he saw the world that week. For instance, if someone had noticed him or apologized to him for something, he would draw something bright and calming giving a sense of freedom. But, if he had gotten bullied that week, he would draw something more dark and depressing giving the onlooker a sense of entrapment.
Each painting was unique and held a fond or not so fond memory. They sort of kept a timeline of his life over the couple of years that he has been painting.
Matthew gave a depressed smile while thinking of his past. Today had been a horrible day for him. He was bullied more than usual and the teachers had forgotten him again.
The bully was Carlos and he had cornered Matthew in the bathroom. He did what he always did and mistook him for Alfred. He raced towards Matthew and punched him in the gut repeatedly and even got a couple of hits in the head.
"That's what you get for messing with me", he said. He had spat on Matthew and left him curled up on the floor holding his stomach crying. When the pain had reduced to a dull throb, he stood up slowly and limped to his next class.
An idea for his painting had finally popped into his head after hours of thinking. Putting down the small paintbrush, he picked up a thick, wide one to cover the canvas in a pale grey. He picked back up the smaller brush and poured an extremely light grey paint on a pallet and started to draw snow with little footprints in it. He then started to draw a polar bear cub.
He finally leaned away from the painting, proud of the artwork in front of him. The painting showed a polar bear cub stuck in the middle of a snow storm calling out to who ever could hear it. The polar bear was leaving behind little footprints in the snow and it's colors seemed to blend into the storm and was blurred. It looked as though it was becoming one with the storm itself. Putting down the brush, he picked up a black colored pencil and signed his name on their like he did with all his paintings.
Wearily, he looked out the window to see that it was nighttime already and Alfred's football practice had long ended. He glanced up at the clock above the window and saw it was already eight O' clock.
"Maple!" Matthew jumped off the stool and grabbed his backpack near the door. Racing around the room, he grabbed colored and regular pencils off the counters to take home and practice with. He grabbed his school laptop leaning against the stool and he zoomed out the door to catch up with Alfred who had probably already left him behind and forgot about him.
Matthew ran down the hallway and opened the door with a big slam. The doors were really heavy to Matthew and he had a hard time opening them. After he had finally pushed the door open enough to where he could slip out, he looked over at the bus lane where they usually met up to see if he was waiting there.
Not surprisingly, he wasn't.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Matthew put his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked over to the sidewalk. When he got home, he was going to have a little talk with Al for leaving him behind like this.
Little did he know, he was leaving something else behind as well. In the middle of the art room stood his painting that glowed in the moonlight waiting for someone to find it.