Page 23 of Shapes of Love
A weight settles on my chest. I haven’t even asked Kai what he’s told him, or his parents, what story he’s spun for them. He’s suddenly in the headlines, dating the girl that broke his heart. Does his family think we’re together again?
“Have you seen that video of Toad yelling-singing one of your songs?” Kai points a finger at the TV. “It’s hilarious.”
“Does your family know?” I grip my bowl until my fingertips burn from the heat. I shouldn’t be this blunt, but the voice inside my mind is screamingYou’re a bad person. “Do they think we’re back together, or do they know… about the contract?”
“They know,” he says matter-of-factly. “They’d be suspicious if I suddenly made sixty thousand dollars out of nowhere. They’d think I was mixed up in some shady business.”
“Thisissome shady business.” I fidget with the edge of my blanket. “Does your grandpa hate me?”
Did he hate me then, when we broke up?
I lower my head and focus on picking at the lint on the blanket. I can’t bring myself to look up at Kai.You’re a bad person.
“You’re not easy to hate, Sash.” Kai’s voice is soft, laced with a hint of something unspoken. The air between us thickens with whatever it is. I steal a sideways glance at him as he fumbles for his tablet and begins sketching again.
“What are you drawing?” I ask, if only to break the silence before it settles.
The character he’s doing line art for looks like some sort of vigilante. He’s wearing a gadget around his arm, standing in the rain, completely soaked as he watches the sunrise.
“Oh, um. An original character.” His grip tightens around his digital pen. “It’s not really good. I don’t know if I’ll ever publish it.”
I guess our creative process is different. Kai keeps his art close to his heart, no matter how bad he wants to share it with the world. For me, the idea of sharing my art with my fans makes my stomach flutter. But Kai’s art is like a piece of himself that will only be worthy of being shared when it’s perfect.
“Who’s he?” I ask. “He reminds me of that dude, what’s his name? Spider-Punk?”
Kai’s face lights up. “He was one of my inspirations! I love this color palette, and I’m trying to make these lines irregular on purpose to showcase his mental health. He just lost his partner. Love of his life. They went through a lot together.”
“Can I see her?”
“Not a she,” he says. Oh? That’s new. Before I can ask him to show me, he sighs and puts the pen down. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think people will like this art style. It’s too niche.”
I shrug. “I like your art style.”
Maybe it’s not for everyone, but it’s interesting, and it draws you in. Every line and color jumps off the page, like they’re forcing emotions out of you.
“Yeah, but you’re weird.”
“Huh?” I lean away on the couch so I can shove his shoulder with my foot. “And? Being weird is awesome. If you ask me, it’s better to make interesting art.”
“I need to draw in a way that everyone will like.” He slumps against the cushions. “Otherwise the story will get overshadowed by the way I draw the characters.”
“I disagree. I think it will make your story stand out.”
“The pile of rejections sitting in my inbox would disagree.”
“Well, fuck rejections. You have me now. Just go for it.”
“You?” Kai stills for a moment, his expression a blend of amusement and confusion.
“Well, yeah. I mean, the contract.” I straighten on my seat. “Since you’re already getting attention anyway, you might as well get something out of it. Let’s promote your art. Start posting it on your social media. Make art for weird people.”
He winces. “I don’t want to mooch off your fame.”
“You won’t.” I bump my shoulder against his. “What I’m saying is that if anyone deserves a platform, it’s you. There are people out there who will love your art.”
“I don’t know, Sash.” I expect him to reply with a wittyremark, but he just shakes his head and reaches for the remote, tossing his tablet aside.
It’s strange. We’re falling back on our old routines, trying to recapture the essence of the people we used to be, but I also feel like I don’t know him anymore. I don’t know why or when his confidence went away, because I wasn’t there to witness it, or to help him through it.
