Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Fine Art ❯ Discover, Daisuke Style ( Chapter 2 )

Misono-sempai picked up a chair from an empty desk and without struggling even the tiniest bit lifted it onto table in the front of the room. "You will be using these graphite pencils," she pointed to a box and I noted the tremble in her finger, "This is just a warm up exercise. I hope that you will have fun with it."

Have fun with it? I decided to give her my attention for the period, but only because I felt so sorry for her. I picked myself up from my chair and slowly walked to the front of the class to grab a pencil and a stack of paper. After having completing my mission, I slowly walked back to my seat and sat back down again. I ignored my classmates and stayed in my original choice of seat, by the window and far from the front of the class.

Once seated I stared dutifully at the chair and awaited inspiration. It was a regular chair, the same as all the chairs in the school as well as the kind Ken had in his room. It was facing me, so if I drew it, I'd have to deal with shadowing and other such crap to make it realistic looking.

I made a line and then a few more but instead of a chair a mess of squiggles covered the paper. To make the chair to realistic I would have to add shadows and other such means of 3D design and crap. But all of that would require an effort; I told myself, and an effort I did not feel like giving.

I stared at the chair for a long time. Around me, I could hear the whispered conversations of the other kids, and I pitied myself; sitting alone had seemed like such a good idea but once in solitude I felt even smaller and unloved.

To stop feeling sorry for myself, I decided to actually attempt the exercise. After re-arranging my goggles, I slammed my pencil on my paper and sketched.

~~~

It took four sheets of paper but I learned how to make shadows. My hand didn't complain once as I drew, erased, drew, erased, and tore holes in my drawing. It became so trivial that I didn't need to concentrate as I sketched. The chair looked like the one Ken had and that realization set of a chain of thoughts on the subject of my best friend.

I had been over his apartment the day before, hanging out and enjoying the afternoon. He'd been sitting at his desk, typing up his genius homework on his computer while I lay on his floor, complaining about soccer and an upcoming game. He had turned around to tease me about how much I needed to practice.

I smiled lazily, remembering all the fun things we had done, all the time we had killed together, never bored and never tired of each other. My mood lightened and I decided not to put so much energy in hating art class.

Finally, hundreds of pieces of paper later and with a smile of victory, I finished the chair. I had to admit that it was a damned good chair; my effort had paid off. It looked so real that even I was surprised at myself; I never knew I had it in me.

I looked around the class, eager to show it off. Everyone seemed to busy with their own drawings and completely oblivious to my need. I leaned on one arm and squinted at my picture, frowning. It probably wasn't good at all; I was probably just imagining it or something. I'm stupid like that.

I erased the back of the chair for no particular reason. Ken's grin flashed in my head, and with a crooked smile of my own, I sketched him in. He had rested his arms on his knees, and then rested his head in his hands. Trying my best to remember his exact pose, I slowly drew him in, first making an outline, then filling it in with his details.

He always kept his smiles in check, like he was afraid of showing that he was happy. Or something lame like that, anyway. And his hair had a habit of falling over his forehead and in front of his eyes. He'd cocked his eyebrows slightly and give me a look of bemused happiness, if that made any sense at all.

I stuck my tongue out the corner of my mouth to help me concentrate. With my pencil flying at a velocity close to the speed of light, I shaded him in, making sure he turned out as beautiful as he was in real life.

He had leaned forward; his long legs spread just a little, just enough to support him. The grace that deer shared and dancers tried to imitate was near impossible to capture. First I drew a light stick figure person and then carefully filled him out. My heart was thumping in anticipation and my hand shook as I forced any sleeping talent that I had out of hibernation and into the picture. It had to be perfect, nothing less would suit Ken.

Immensely pleased, I whammed my pencil on my desk and silently congratulated myself. It had turned out better than I had hoped. It was Ken all right, all the way down to the glimmer he got in his eyes when he held back his laughter.

Yeah, I was the greatest.