A/N: I have been raised from the dead! Yeah, I know it's been forever since I last came on, but that's to be expected (excuse) because of school (more excuses). However, this, just in time for Christmas I might add, is a Hoennshipping Oneshot, which is quite sucky, because I thought of this on the bus ride home. Nevertheless, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
Disclaimer: Because you all hate me so much, I will only do this for reviews! I don't own Pokemon.
ART IN BLUE
Tap, tap, tap.
May bent studiously over the blank of piece of paper, but her blue eyes were unfocused and her fingers tapped nervously over the old wood table marked with paint from many years of use. She was required to paint an abstract art, but her thoughts kept straying from her art to the green haired rival of hers to her best childhood friend. She bit her lip, a habit of hers when ever she was nervous or indecisive. Her fingers were jittery and her foot incessantly tapped on the floor; only the shout of "May" from an annoyed Max in the living room below her art room stopped her.
She glanced at the window, at the rainy, overcast day. The raindrops made intricate designs on the window pane, and May watched in wonder as one raindrop split, making two separate rivulets. It looked nearly like a fork in the road, and she was reminded of her own life, and how the choice loomed over her like a cliff would to a small molehill. And she suddenly felt like the mole, cowering the safety of her cave.
Brendan? Drew? Art? The thoughts kept running through her head, and her fingers increased their volume as they tapped faster and faster.
"May?" It was her mother at the door, her cheeks white with flour; she had been baking, though by the burnt dough on her gloves, May could see it was not going well. "You have to finish that painting. Mrs. Darling expects it by Tuesday." With the reminder, May's mother turned and left, presumably to burn some more dough in an effort to "bake".
Max's dark indigo hair – a tribute to when May became so angry, she dyed his hair blue. Some stains never come out – popped up and her younger brother stuck his tongue out at her, leaving May flushed and angry. "Yeah, May," he said annoyingly, "It's due by Tuesday! So get working, unless ya don't even know how to hold the brush dummie!"
"Get out of my room you cretin!" May screamed. Her intelligence was always a tender subject for the brunette. She wasn't the brightest person in her school, but she always scraped at least a B, her best subject being art. That always brought up her usually C averages. "At least I'm not a geek!" she screamed, searching desperately with a witty comeback that would leave Max speechless. Unfortunately, the door snapped shut before she could say another word.
Idiot! She silently screamed, returning – or rather, stomping – to her chair. Just 'cause he gets A's and I'm stuck with B's doesn't mean he's better than I am! She thought furiously, striking her brush into a random color and swiping the brush across the canvas, trying to release some anger into her art. The last time she had done that, May had gotten first place in a local art contest.
The canvas was soon striped with dark blue marks, and May tipped her head to the side, trying to imagine what it could be. She didn't want to start with a brand new canvas, and plus, she was oddly reminded of something – or someone – by it. The pitter-patter of rain on the roof made her look out the window once more, and she saw the rivulets of rain. She suddenly knew what she was going to draw.
The blue can represent Brendan's even temper! She thought excitedly, her brush strokes becoming longer and smoother as she grew bold. And, and the red, she thought, swirling around her brush in water that soon turned a sickly blue color and drying it on her rag, can represent Drew's hot head. She frowned slightly, her hand freezing with the brush still in red paint, remembering the times he had teased her. But her ideas, forming quickly, refused to be stopped, and soon, she was back at the canvas, swiping her brush here and there.
After thirty minutes of intense work, May moved back to admire her artwork. It was an array of beautifully colored stripes that reminded her of the intertwining of love and sadness, anger and calm. She suddenly noticed an empty spot on the farthest corner, the only white in a sea of blue and red. But the two colors seemed so… balanced May hated to ruin it. Her fingers, colored red and blue from the paint, reached for the speckled brush, but paused as her special firey red cell phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey it's me! You wanna go out for something to eat?"
May started. Was he really asking her… out? On a date? With no parental supervision? On a sudden whim, a sudden stroke of daring, she took a deep breath and said firmly, "Sure, I'd love to."
It was obvious he was one happy guy. "Great!" he said cheerfully. "I'm coming over right now! See ya soon!" And the click on the other end told May that he had hung up.
Glancing at her drying project, she grasped the edges carefully and set it near the window so that it could get some sunlight. Then opening the door, May joyfully ran down the stairs, her feet clattering against the wood floors, Max opened the door sneakily. He was still sore about May's insult earlier and had eagerly awaited the chance to destroy her artwork. As he crept forward, his feet barely making a sound, he took in the red and blue masterpiece. Pausing for a moment before he destroyed it by smudging all of the lines, Max noticed a small blue thumbprint on the edge of the canvas, where no other color was. He tipped his head to the side, his blue hair falling to one side.
"Does this mean May likes blue better than red?"
Aw, isn't Max just the best little bugger ever? Well, anyway, enjoy and review!