Chapter 4
As it turns out, Miles did not, in fact, have a sharpie. The taller teen pouted slightly, before his eyes wandered back to the sleeping pair. The two teens stared for a few minutes in silence, before Miles decided to get up from the couch, gathering his things.
“What’re you doin’?” Hobie asked, his head titled up slightly to look up at Miles from his still-seated position.
“My dorm? They’re already asleep, so I don’t really want to wake them up by making too much noise. You staying here?” Miles really hoped the older teen would say no, he wanted to keep talking to the other, but frankly he felt as though he’d overstayed his welcome at Gwen's, and felt like retreating to his safe haven; his dorm.
“Nah nah, I gotta see your dorm, you’ve probably got some super artsy looking shit goin’ on there, let’s go!” It was like Hobie had read his mind, and Miles smiled a bit as he was dragged out of his friend’s dorm by the hand. His hand. Which was attached to Hobie’s. He felt his face getting warm, and himself getting a bit shy, but he didn’t have long to think about the butterflies in his stomach before he crashed into Hobie’s back. The boy had stopped in the middle of the hallway, contemplating something. He opened his mouth to ask something before Miles chuckled, and turned to the direction of the elevator, now being the one to drag Hobie behind him.
They soon made it to Miles’ dorm room, and all of a sudden Miles felt nervous. He felt self-conscious. Like he should’ve cleaned up his room before inviting someone over, in order to hide all the things that made him, well, him.
Perhaps it had to do with his lack of experience in hanging out with people in spaces that were personal to him? Sure, Gwen had come over to the Morales household a handful of times, but they mostly sat in the kitchen or living room. This was because both Jeff and Rio were convinced something was going on between the two and wanted to keep an eye on the two teens. This was much to Miles’ dismay, as at the time he had a small, minute crush on his friend, even though he knew Gwen didn’t feel the same. Looking back on it, Miles thinks he liked her, because, well, she was his only friend. No one at Visions wanted to be friends with the weird artsy afro-latino kid. Except for Gwen, but then, well, she left. And Miles was alone again.
He’d never let on just how upset he was when she left, and always tried to play it casual, water under the bridge and all. But when your only friend just leaves you without saying anything, it leaves you with one sort of trust issues or another.
Unlocking the dorm’s door, he flipped the lights on, before letting Hobie in.
“Make yourself comfortable, I gotta pick some of my shit up,” Miles sighed, picking up the clothing and empty cans of energy drinks that littered his floor. It wasn’t the worst, but it definitely didn’t look great. He understood now why mami was insistent on him cleaning the house whenever he wanted to have Gwen over. It really was embarrassing for people to see the mess he lived in, even though he knew this was the reality, something like this is usually something you hide, oh well.
Whilst Miles bustled around, to pick up as much of his mess as he could, Hobie walked over to the desk. Miles had several works in progress, a different sketchbook on top of his desk, a wooden panel that was spray-painted on the side, and quite a few paint brushes scattered about.
“You’ve been busy, haven’t ya?” Miles hummed noncommittally as he grabbed a bag to toss the cans in. He was too busy cleaning to realize Hobie had picked the art book up and started flipping through it. Hobby flipped to a page, a more recent one. It was a portrait of Gwen and Pavitr. He whistled lowly as Miles turned around to glance at what Hobie was looking at.
The boy blushed, as he realized that Hobbie was staring at his experimental sketchbook. He felt the most self conscious about that notebook, as he’d attempted cutting and pasting different materials, painting on paper with acrylic, and honestly, he wasn’t sure it was his best work. The professor in his class had asked everyone to keep a mixed media notebook, and experiment as much with it as possible. She had stressed that the quality of the work wasn’t important, etc etc, but having someone else look at his shittily painted portrait of his friends was just a bit of a vulnerable feeling, and embarrassing. It’s hard to break away from the idea that an artist’s work always has to be perfect. Even if that was part of the assignment, learning that nobody will ever only create masterpieces. To make said masterpiece there must be hundreds of ideas that need to be polished and are ultimately scrapped in order for that masterpiece to exist.
“This is amazin’ Miles,” Hobie complimented, and had Miles not already been blushing from embarrassment, he’d be blushing at the compliment.
“Thanks, it’s not the greatest, but the notebook is mainly for trying new ideas without putting too much effort in them, so I guess I got that down at least” Miles laughed lightly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Nah nah mate, you’re underselling yourself, this shit belongs on an album cover, hell Id’ put this as the band’s album cover,” Hobie grinned at Miles, who quickly shot down the idea.
“Nahh man, you don’t know what you’re on about,” He waved his hands in front of Hobie, before going to grab the notebook from Hobie’s hands, but he was quicker. Hobie held it over his head, and laughed as Miles attempted, (and failed) to grab the notebook from his hands, a small smile appearing on the taller boy’s face.
Miles, now mildly frustrated, in a final attempt to grab the notebook, ended up pushing himself on hobbies shoulder whilst jumping, causing the two to clash and fall onto the bed. Hobie, momentarily surprised, quickly recovered, having landed back first onto the bed, Miles top of him, and he began to laugh.
“At least take me on a date first before sleeping with me, mate. Haven’t you got any manners?” Miles had managed to grasp onto the notebook, only then realizing the precarious position they were in, and became a blubbering mess.
“I didn’t mean to do that I’m so sorry-” Miles began to pull away, trying to get off Hobie, but before he could get up, Hobie caught his hand, holding onto it.
“It’s alright, I don’t mind” He laughed again, finally letting go of Miles’ hand, then tucking his arms behind his head, an easy grin forming on his slips. Miles stood in front of the other, a small smile also appearing on his face.
The two stared at each other, taking in the other’s features, both artist types inspired by the other’s features. Though they weren’t ready to admit it to each other, nor to themselves, as perhaps the idea of someone becoming one’s muse after only just meeting was a bit of an odd thing to say, or even think about.
The two later found themselves sitting on Miles’ bed, having decided to watch a movie together on the boy’s sticker covered laptop, of which Hobie approved of. They’d picked Treasure Planet, a classic, and in Miles’ opinion, an absolute banger of a movie. The two occasionally chatted quietly over the movie, Miles sharing his own fond memories to do with the movie.
“My mom banned me from speaking english in the house growing up, cause she didn’t want me to lose the language, though it also extended to watching movies in spanish,” He laughed, watching the main character of the movie have his main character song moment.
“It’s funny ‘cause at first, my dad tried to protest against it, since he didn’t speak spanish. But that was a losing battle against my mum, so he eventually learned spanish, albeit with a gringo accent, but he can at least understand everything pretty well,” He laughed quietly, as Hobie admired his features, responding with a simple hum. The two sat with a furry blanket wrapped around themselves, fairy lights strung around the room, a soft orange-yellow glow emitting from them.
“Anyway, all that to say, the spanish version of Treasure Planet is superior,” he grinned, as Jim’s theme began to play, and sang along to it, albeit with the spanish lyrics.
“You got a nice voice,” Hobie said, barely above a whisper, brown skin glowing slightly because of the lights, a beautiful hue, and Miles couldn’t help but admire him a bit, almost forgetting to answer.
“Pshh, says the singer of an actual band” He rolled his eyes, but smiled.
“Yeah, says me, I got an eye for tha’ sort of thing,” Hobie teased, nudging the boy’s shoulder. They continued to watch the movie in silence, eventually falling asleep at the crack of dawn, the laptop long discarded onto the side of the bed, and the two boys huddled together on the small bed.