Chapter 18: My Inspiration

"Brnnng! Brnnng!" Goes the alarm clock off Damian's phone at 7:00 sharp in the morning.

"Uuuugh…" Waking up slightly groggy and lightheaded, he waved his hand over the clock projection and stumbled his way into shutting it off.

Then, right on the dot, his mom opened his bedroom door and gave him an additional motivator in the form of a flash of light from the hall.

"Come on now son, you wanted to get up earlier." She said, her voice both firm but pushing out that little hint of concern for his well being.

"I-I'm up, I'm up." Damian said in a half-hearted manner, then rolled off his sheets and got up.

He managed to avoid tripping on a bouncy ball he had been playing with prior to going to sleep, and got dressed in a matter of seconds. His clothes had been folded and arranged on his dresser by him the night before.

A white shirt with a series of color splatters, but not real ones. And now it was time to start wearing jeans, oh joy.

Just this once, he wanted to put on shorts and be comfy, but then his mom would make a snide remark and he'd just put the pants on anyways.

…And his legs were a little pasty anyways.

It was the weekend so it's not like he was going anywhere, so what was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

He then made his way down the hall and after a stretch and yawn, saw his mom was sitting at the kitchen table looking at news reports on her phone, squirming at the presence of anything raunchy.

"Morning mom." Damian said, sitting on the chair across from her, a plate of three eggs, two wheat toast pieces with honey and butter, and a cup of apple juice on the side with a pinch of cinnamon sprinkled in.

His mom scrolled through the weather next, furrowing her brow and muttering a curse word silently about the incoming heavy rain.

She was in her mid-40s, frizzy auburn hair and red-rimmed glasses, usually accompanied by a pair of ring earrings, a vest, and some form of loose-fit denim pants.

Damian paused for a bit and when she didn't say anything, he started slowly chipping away at his breakfast, pausing between bites to sigh.

They lived in a one-story house on the corner of the street. Cinnamon painted interior, brown exterior. Gave the house a permanent woodland in the autumn vibe.

The kitchen windows hadn't been cleaned in a bit so it had gathered a lot of mold and pollen on the sill, but fortunately he hadn't inherited the allergies from his dad's side.

His mom finally put the phone down to take a sip of her coffee and make a remark along the lines of, "Slow down, you're going to give yourself a stomach ache."

Damian stopped and wanted to say a simple "I know" but his words were as deep in his throat as his food.

He swallowed, sighed, then continued to eat at her pace.

She then smiled faintly and reached out to put her hand on his as he set his fork down, telling him, "Tell me how school's been going."

Damian had a hard time looking her in the eyes, "Well, my grades have been consistent. B+...except for literature."

He could feel that miniscule shift to disapproval in her gaze, "How low?"

Damian put it out there to get it over with, "Just a C+."

Her tongue clicked twice, "Literature is important. The right interpretation of facts will save you in the long run."

"Yeah like how you interpreted dad's facts…"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

Was what would have happened if he said that, so he didn't.

"I-It's tough, there's different interpretations on how to read a book." Damian replied.

His mom huffed, then rested her hand on her cheek and wiggled her fingers away from it, "You could've learned a lot from that one girl who used to hang around the neighborhood. What was her name? Erin, right?"

Damian grimaced and dully whispered, "C-Can we not talk about her…?"

But it fell short of its mark, as his mom was already set on her course, "She was a sweet girl. Very, very smart too. I bet she'll go on to accomplish great things. Of course, her dad's now the President, it only makes sense."

"She's turned into a bitch…" Damian mumbled out of the corner of his mouth so OF COURSE this would be the time his mom's ears chose to work.

"What was that?" She said with a subtle raising of her voice.

"I-I told you mom, I don't want to talk about her." He stammered, and after forcefully biting his teeth down he let the moment settle and endured his mom's glare long enough for her to switch to a less aggressive pout.

"High school is where you need to start thinking about your future, Damian. That means no more play time with that sweaty girl next door and focusing on becoming a doctor."

"Artist…" He mumbled again.

"Hmm?" She said with a brow raised.

"Nothing…" He said with low energy, and then remarked to try and get her off his back a bit, "I-I'll ask my teacher for help next week."

"Good," She nodded and then looked at her phone with a sigh, "Oh great, I let the time get away from me."

She pulled away from her chair and then rounded the table, pointing at different spots in the house, "I chilled a chicken parm for you to have for dinner tonight, and there's money on the counter if you need some ingredients for lunch. And if you aren't too busy studying, the towels need to be folded."

"Sounds good mom…" Damian held his hands out and she leaned in to hug him, but her skin, much like the lips she kissed him with, were about as dull to the touch as tap water.

Still, as she pulled away, he accepted this because she was his only parent in his life.

"I love you son." She said, turning around and heading off after getting her keys and purse.

She drove a Buick Century to work, an office job in Seattle for some local owned pharmaceutical company.

She assumed he was going to be having a whole day full of studying to keep him occupied but the truth was he stayed up a little extra longer last night to get his homework done.

So now he was free to do what he wanted until she got home.

But first he finished his breakfast and cleaned the table. And who could forget hygiene.

Then he gathered up his art supplies in a bag along with a coat, just in case, and headed out the door.

Partially cloudy with a chance of sun was the forecast for most of the day. There were a few people driving around, apparently there was an open house going on down the way.

Damian nervously adjusted his bag on his shoulder, took a deep breath, and headed down the street.

The neighborhood has gone through a few renovations, people have moved in and out.

But for the last ten years he's been glad to have known the company of the oddballs known as the Whiters.

He stopped and for a moment, traveled back to that scene ten years ago. When he was just a young boy, joining his mom and dad in exploring the commotion going on in their neighborhood.

A large crowd had gathered around as an entire two-story house was being hauled into a vacant lot of land by a very…very large forklift, driven by an eccentric purple-haired girl in a lab coat who…come to think about it really looks like the current Vice President, huh…

But that's not important.

A young boy full of curiosity, he managed to pull away from his parents and slip through the crowd with ease.

But nearing the end of his journey he tripped over someone's legs and landed smackdown onto the pavement.

He could still remember the pain of feeling gravel scraping his knee.

Yet when he looked up he was greeted by the sunshine taking the form of a chipped-tooth smile.

"Are you a'right?" Said a girl his age only just starting to tan, her blue hair a total mess and bandages covering her cheeks and right elbow.

In the present day, Damian could feel he was blushing and shook it off, and the memory faded into the back of his mind.

But he still kept blushing with a big, wobbling grin as he looked down at the pavement, realizing he was standing at the exact spot that he fell.

"It's really been ten years…" He tapped his right knee where the scab still remained and then with a sigh he mustered up his courage to walk up to the front door.

A couple knocks and a few seconds later, the door was opened and he said, "H-Hey Serra…"

But then he was blindsided by the fact that it was her dad that answered, making him clutch his bag and drag his heels back off the top step, "S-Sir! I-I-I didn't know you'd be home."

And yet every time he slips up like this, the response is the same.

A smile as warm as the sun, and a playful bit of dialogue, "Well I hope I'd be at my own home, ha ha!"

Mew then shut the door behind him and gently patted him on the back to keep him upright, "You just missed her. Her and Leo are out helping Zelene do some shopping in the city."

"O-Oh…" Damian's disappointment was immeasurable, "Do you…know when she-t-they'll be back?"

Mew's smile rose a bit and with a quick check of his "watch" he said, "Maybe an hour, tops?"

He then tossed his hand out and didn't let him get a word in edgewise, "You have any breakfast yet? I managed to wrestle some leftover sausage from Serra's plate, but if you want it…?"

"Nah I'm full, thank you sir." Damian said, rapidly shaking his head.

"Ha ha! Well then hey, feel free to hang out and wait," Mew then rubbed his chin and wagged his pointer finger at Damian's bag, whispering with sincere curiosity, "Got anything new to show off?"

"S-Sure!" Damian sat down and pulled out his sketchbook.

He flipped through until he landed on a composition in progress regarding a view of the ocean at sunset.

"I've been experimenting with colored pencils to give my art a more…rough look."

Mew sat down and he let him take the book to look over, "Huh, nice use of color. I think you'd get some 'Pop!' out of the ocean if the sun was a little more orange. But that's just me."

Damian pointed at the ocean and murmured, "I haven't added in the ambient occlusion yet."

"Oh yeah?" Mew whispered to himself before handing the book back.

Damian flipped through to another page, depicting a mountainscape. But the twist was that each mountain was depicted with lighting from a different time of day.

"Now THAT'S cool!" Mew jumped to praise immediately, causing Damian to huddle the book against his chest and flail his hand out

"N-Not at all! It's amateurish at best…"

"Really? Cause I've never seen an idea like this before." Mew said, no qualms about it.

Damian stared at his book and bemoaned, "But look at the colors, they all look like separate pieces of art instead of blending together."

"Does it need to come together? You'd think your audience would want to look at all the colors eventually."

"Hmmmm, maybe." Damian muttered.

"Damian," Mew said with a slightly teasing chuckle, "I'm not an artist. Don't take my comments as the gospel."

Damian grit his teeth in an awkward smile and was infected by his chuckle, "Ha ha, right…"

He then slowly flipped through the rest of his book, but it was full of unfinished works and scribbles.

"That's everything." Damian said with a hint of disappointment.

"You're steadily improving. That's nice," Mew patted him on the back, "Keep it up."

Damian leaned against the patting and blushed, his smile wobbling like he was ready to cry with joy.

"T-Thanks, sir," Damian then got a spark in his head telling him, "Oh yeah! I saved some digital art on my phone!"

He put the book away, got his phone out, and immediately upon opening the gallery gave this supportive and friendly dad an unavoidable look at some art of his daughter.

"AAAAAAAAAHHH!" Damian screamed as paralysis took over his nerves.

"Reeeeeeaally now?" Mew's tone got stoic as he pulled the phone from his hands.

Damian's ability to talk or think was on pause as Mew judged his work through a parental lens.

Him smiling could mean one of two things:

He was ok with this (Unlikely).

Damian was about to get a stern talking to (Very likely).

"The perspective, the line of action, the colors, this is way above the rest of your work…" At first Mew was operating as a critic, but then his tone came off more directly confrontational, "You even got the shading right on her calves."

Mew finally looked at him and his profusely sweating face, prompting Damian to hang his head over and say, "I-I'm sorry sir!"

"Pah! You better be!" Mew then took a swing at Damian, but once the boy finished closing his eyes he felt nothing but a breeze.

He looked up to see that Mew had simply thrust the phone into his face, showing his picture of Serra running on the track.

"For one, my daughter's hair is at least two shades bluer!" Mew said with the utmost seriousness, blowing every shred of confusion off Damian's face.

Mew then raised a finger and pointed out, "And whenever she runs her smile is at least a little bit crooked."

And then in a far lighter tone he handed the phone back and suggested, "Also maybe add a little extra color to the back leg to show depth."

Damian swallowed that big lump of anxiety at the back of his throat and smiled, "He's always been like this…he's almost TOO nice…"

Mew then crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, the smile continuing to make a mark.

"Now you're only using these pics normally right?"

"H-Huh?" Damian sputtered.

Mew raised a brow and tried to be subtle. Well, as much as an elephant can be subtle, "You ARE 16, soooo…"

"I-I would never do that…!" Damian thrust his outrage in defiance of this intimidating carnivore staring him down.

Impressed, seemingly, Mew smiled and patted him on the shoulder until he calmed down, "I'm just messing with you, Damian."

As Damian relaxed he gave a quick pout and sigh, "I just wish he didn't tease me so much…"

Mew then crossed his arms and leaned back with a leg up on his knee, "So judging from that reaction, she doesn't know about these either?"

Damian nodded dimly.

"How long have you been using her as subject material?"

"Three years…?" Damian was unsure if that was correct.

Mew smiled softly and nodded along, "Sounds 'bout right."

Damian looked at him puzzled, "Sir?"

Mew waved his hands up and dismissed his remark, "Hey, I won't step out of line if you don't. But you've known us for ten years. I doubt you'll make a wrong move."

"...I'm pretending I don't get what he's saying. But how can I betray my feelings like that?"

"Ever since we became teenagers, I've had a hard time seeing Serra as just a friend. I've started looking at her like a girl…"

"But…"

Damian bit his lower lip and then smacked the sides of his face.

"I don't think this is a good time, sir." He whimpered.

Mew winced and sat himself up properly, "A-Ah, sorry, I got a little out of hand."

He then waved a friendly gesture his way and smiled, "Want something to drink?"

"I just had breakfast, so no soda please."

Mew rolled his eyes, "Bah, your mom's too strict on you. Come on, have a soda, I won't tell."

Damian's guard melted and with a welcomed smile he said, "I'll take a root beer then."

Mew paused and kept the same expression going while tilting his hand slightly, "...Would you accept a Pepsi?"

"S-Sure."

"Two Pepsis it is!" He ran in and out in seconds with two ice cold cans.

The cans popping open was like ASMR for Damian, and the liquid gold went down like a dream.

After which the two laid back on the steps, backs arched horribly, looking up at the clouds.

"Hey sir, what's the key to a healthy life…?"

Mew snickered, "I'd say it's having the right people in your life to ground you when your emotions are high, and to lift you up when they're low."

Damian turned with a hint of jealousy, "How are you so wise?"

Mew spat some of his soda onto his shirt, "Don't let anyone hear you say that, they'd laugh their asses off."

He then thrust his finger away from his can, "ESPECIALLY Alura."

He then leaned back and let the praise soak in with a not very humble grin, "But yeah, I'm pretty sagely. It comes with the experience."

"Huh…" Damian sat back and they just chilled on the steps for a while. Mew then headed back inside to clean up.

Looking at the clouds caused Damian to start drifting off for a nap.

His sight faded with every blink, but as the last one was set to go off he saw the sunshine and his heart skipped a beat.

"H-Hey, Serra!" He stammered awake, and her smiling face turned into a giggling one.

"That doesn't look very comfortable, Buddy!" She said.

And Damian felt it BAD in his back when he sat up.

"Ahhh, crap…" He mumbled.

Leo walked past him with some groceries, "Hello."

While rubbing his back, Damian waved at him "Hey" and then Serra sat down beside him and put her arm on his back.

"Sorry if I kept you waiting! What do you want to do?"

"I was uhh…" She was already full of energy and getting her sweat on his clothes, adding to his nervousness around her.

With a tight gulp he said, "Just hoping to hang out…"

"Sounds good!" So she pulled her arm away and they just…hung out.

Her sitting with her arms between her paddling legs, and him just calmly staring out onto the street trying so, so hard not to look her in the eyes after all the embarrassing thoughts her dad put into his head.

She quickly remarked, "You're being awfully quiet, Buddy, is everything alright?"

"Ah ha ha…!" He gave a canned laugh and then grinned, "S-Sorry, the Pepsi must be messing with my brain."

"Awww, you had a soda without me?" She sounded a little disappointed.

Damian turned and swung his hands, "Y-Your dad offered, I wasn't gonna say no."

And then he was trapped looking at her bright, almond eyes and that ridiculously infectious smile.

Within seconds his face was bright red and he turned the other way to catch his breath and settle down.

He then clutched his hand against his chest, "These thoughts need to go away! What we got is already perfect. It doesn't need to get anymore complicated than that…"

He turned back around and saw her blissfully staring off into the sky, her only thoughts being on what she's going to do in the moment.

Never thinking forward, never holding onto the past. Her life was an incredible feat of instinct and optimism, able to weather storms and light up the darkest nights.

"She'll never think about love…So I got to stop worrying about it."

Emptying his thoughts to himself gave him enough relief to look her in the eyes again and suggest, "I'm getting stiff sitting around. Want to take a quick lap around the neighborhood?"

Serra sprung to her feet and declared, "You didn't even need to ask!"

She was off and running and he did his best to keep pace.

This neighborhood went through a lot of changes, and he could feel his memories going over them all with every blink.

And they've changed too, but in a lot of ways stayed the same.

He's never been able to run past her, or even beside her. She's always been extraordinarily fast, and these last few weeks have proven that more than ever.

But she never gets so far ahead that it feels impossible to reach her.

Her back is always in view. Her hair is always swaying like a curtain of sapphire.

And yet, he can feel that distance growing larger in his heart. And it hurts.

"She'll always do her best. There's always going to be a future open for her. She'll MAKE that future if she must."

"But…will there be a place in that future for me?"

"I admit it…I'm scared…"

"So maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about her as more than a friend."

"Maybe I think love is the only way to keep her."

"I-I don't want to lose what we have."

"But someday we're going to have to grow up."

"And what am I looking forward to? A life as a mediocre artist, barely making ends meet, or forced to be a doctor and disliking every moment of it…"

Damian's vision became surrounded in darkness, and he stopped moving. His heart started to tighten and his pupils dilated.

But when it seemed like he would be swallowed up, that little cheery "Hey!" from Serra snapped him back into the light.

She leaned in closer and showed a rare glimpse of concern, "You don't look good, Buddy. Let me carry you back!"

Damian bit his teeth down and insisted, "I-I'll be ok, just give me a moment ha...ha…"

Once he took a few deep breaths and had some space, he was able to walk again. He then squeezed his fist and threw his head back, thinking about his panic with shame, "...She doesn't think about these things. So I should try not to either."

"...I don't want to ruin what we have."

He looked at her waiting patiently with some jumping jacks and smiled, "She's my first, my best, my inspiration…my friend…"

He then looked at her with a smile and remarked, "Hey Serra, when we get back to the house…there's something I've been meaning to show you for a while now."

"Oh yeah! Looking forward to it! So are you ok to finish the lap, or do you need a few more seconds?"

"I think I'll just walk the rest of the way. You go on ahead."

But when Damian waved her off, she stood there and said, "I'm in no rush. We got all day to have fun!"

"..." Damian stood there dumbfounded, "Oh, I guess this is her way of showing concern."

He patted his chest and thought, "That was pretty bad…A-Am I going to be ok?"

He shook his head and decided to worry about his health later, and remembered his goal. To just enjoy the moment…

They eventually made it back to the house and they sat in the lawn, where Damian pulled out his phone.

One last chance to reconsider, one last chance to save this friendship.

"Ewww, creepy!" He imagined her saying.

She never would say that. But that imaginary possibility FELT real enough to make his hand shake.

His hand then moved on its own to rush through unlocking the phone and opening the gallery, his explanation of what he was showing even quicker, "I've been drawing pictures of you in my sketchbook lately and converting them into digital illustrations at home."

"Please don't be mad, please don't be m-"

"Oh wow!" Her delight loosened his tension like an arrow, and as he ignored it soaring through the horizon he watched her nestle in close and dig right into his gallery with a big smile on her face.

"Is that what I look like animated? Awesome! I look very sleek and dynamic!" Before he knew it she had full control over his phone and was flipping through the pictures having the time of her life.

"...Why was I worried?" He told himself in a dull, exhausted tone.

She stopped on a particular picture and giggled like she was a few years younger again, "Oh man! I remember when I used to wear that jacket with the puffy sleeves."

There was a picture in there of the two of them he tried to draw from memory, and it made her state, "Oh yeah, you used to be taller than me…!"

"W-What?" Damian suddenly sparked with interest, "Nonono. I still am."

"Stand up!" Serra did so and Damian did, avoiding a hunched pose and everything, but she stood exactly one inch over him.

His chest tingled with a chill and she countered with a smile and her fist raised in celebration, "Ha ha, see! Told you!"

Damian furrowed his brows and murmured, "I-It's just one inch, girls grow faster, I'll be taller again eventually!"

Damian then blushed and stated, "L-Lets just back to the pictures."

"Oh right!" Serra plopped down and then remarked, "I had forgotten a lot of this stuff. You did an awesome job drawing them, Buddy!"

Damian slowly went down and murmured, "Y-You think so…?"

Serra lifted her head and had that goofy but lovable blank stare on her face, "Yeah? I don't get why you didn't wanna show me these sooner."

"I-I thought you'd find them creepy…" Damian said shyly.

"No way! I'm totally flattered you used me to improve so much!" Serra turned the phone around and flicked between the oldest pic and the most recent one, "I don't get art, but that definitely looks nicer than this!"

Damian struggled to smile, his heart overwhelmed.

She then turned the phone back around and made a carefree comment of, "Thooough, I don't think my chest is THAT big."

Damian' concentration broke with a three string punch of confusion, "E-Eh?"

She turned it around to show him the most recent picture, which depicted her cooling off after a sprint on the track, wiping sweat off her chin. Her chest definitely looked…bigger. By like twice the amount.

Actually it really looked closer to Erin's size.

"Oh no…!" He threw his hands over his face and wanted to scream. Somehow, Erin's growth had subconsciously imposed itself over his construct of Serra.

"I wonder what it'd feel like to run with a bigger chest?" Serra innocently questioned, "Heh heh, maybe I oughta ask Pal-in next time we see her."

Her ease of talking made it possible for Damian to dump this baggage and shift the topic, "You're still on about her being our friend, huh?"

Serra stared blankly at him, "Well duh, she IS our friend."

"Serra look…We all have fond memories of her, but she's changed."

Serra turned her head and giggled, "I know THAT, I'm not stupid. But she's still my friend!"

Damian laid hands on top of hers and leaned in, "I don't want her to hurt your feelings, ok!"

He recoiled at what's been done, but didn't have time to take it back before Serra swung her fist up with his hands still on them and made a determined remark, "Hey, it's not like you to worry about me! You know I can take any challenge that comes my way!"

"...You think I'm worried about her beating you in a competition." Damian thought dully.

He thought about Erin for one moment. Her overpowering charisma, her alluring charms, the temptation that came with it…

It was like staring at a demoness of the darkness.

And it scared him.

"I think she can hurt you in other ways."

But when he saw Serra hold that competitive grin of hers, those teeth may as well have been made of the strongest metal there was.

With little resistance to offer, he took a moment to catch his breath and then remarked, "Just be careful, ok?"

"I'll be fine! You can always bet on Serra!" She proclaimed confidently.

"...You know I will. I don't know if we can be friends forever. But I will be YOUR friend until the very end. You can count on that."

Next Time: Two Girls on the Town