A/N: done upon request :) I like how it turned out, and there's a link on my profile on how I imagined Jack and Kim in their little sleeping moment. Go check it out, and check out the artist's gallery on deviantart as well. She's great ! Hope you like it.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kickin' It or it's characters.
The Spaces Between
It's quiet. The only sound I can hear is the whirring of the fan above, and the pencils scraping against paper. My eyelids get droopy, telling me that I'm getting too stressed, but I keep them open. This is my term assignment. I've been working on it for a long time now, a few months to be exact. Jack works on the desk beside mine, in my room. I took my brother's desk when I moved out. I stare at the sketch in my hand for a while.
The eyes aren't right. The tail feathers aren't the right colour. The wings are too big.
Well, no matter. I'll fix it when I paint it on the big canvas. I bend down to grab my paintbrushes, my paints. I step to the closet where a huge canvas is carefully wrapped in a slip cover. The canvas is brand new, flawless and perfect. I can't afford to make any mistakes. I pull my long, blonde hair back into a ponytail, and pull on my glasses. I get to work immediately, my mind clear and focussed. I start to draw the head, then the wings, then the feet, then the long black arrow it holds in it's feet. After a while, my hands start to cramp, my eyes get sore, and my knees start to hurt. But I don't care. This is my life on this canvas. This is my one-way ticket to a good job. My parents told me to go into medical school, but I didn't like it. Art is my one and only.
I think it's been a few hours, but I'm only halfway-done. My fingers tremble, but the lines of the feathers are still smooth. One tiny mistake and my whole piece could be ruined. A hand locks around my wrist, stopping the movement of my paintbrush. My hand trembles, and I drop the paintbrush, my hands unable to hold it. I can feel him look at me in concern, but all I can see is my life on the canvas. It's only half-finished, but it's already beautiful. It's pure white wings, the long, slender, silver-tipped arrow held in its feet, the way its eye looks at you; it's beautiful. It's a perfect mix of pure innocence and a little realism mixed together. I feel him brush a lock of my hair behind my ear.
"Kim," he whispers, tipping my chin to force me to look at him. His deep mocha eyes are filled with concern, and something else I can't identify. I fall into his arms, exhausted, and he holds me until I fall asleep.
The first thing I register is a sweet, boyish scent covering the sheets of the overly comfy bed. The next thing I register is the warmness of the blanket. And the last thing I can make out is Jack's arms wound around my waist, and his head buried in my hair. My eyelids fall and I let the darkness take me over again, with the boyish scent and the warmness of the blanket left in my mind.
I stare at her for a while, sleeping in my arms. I study her face, looking at the rosy colour on her cheeks. Her long, golden hair streams behind her, the small, natural waves more defined loose. I took her hair out of the ponytail a while ago. She never leaves her hair down around us anymore. It's always in a braid or in a ponytail. I miss curling the golden strands in my fingers. Her hair always smelled like lavender, and sweet honey. The girl's change-room in the dojo always smelled like that. Her long, golden eyelashes would billow in the wind when she blinked, and I would always wonder how they never get tangled. I smile at her relaxed expression, rosy lips in a half-smile, and hands slack next to mine. I take them into mine, loving the feeling of her fingers between my own. I stare at our entwined hands. And suddenly, I know why we have spaces between our fingers. We have them, so the person we love can fill the spaces.