Title: The Sketch Part: 1 Author: FehrKitten Email: FehrKitten@hotmail.com Disclaimer: Michael's artwork is based on Melissa
Harris' Moon Goddess print. Lyrics are Depeche Mode. Summary: little interaction between Maria and
Stonewall Guerin Category: Michael/Maria Rating: PG
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Maria opened her locker and a folded scrap of paper
fell to the floor in the school hallway. Curious, she
picked it up and unfolded it. A smile crept across
her face as she read:
Meet me in the art room at lunch. I've got something
for you to look at-- Michael
OK, spaceboy, she thought to herself, now what's
gotten into you? Sighing, she resigned herself to
having to sit through classes until lunchtime, dying
to know what Michael was up to. His sociable periods
were few and far between, so she figured she'd better
take advantage of this one. She'd never admit to
anyone that it pleased her when he actually acted like
he needed her.
Freestate
I can hear your soul crying
Listen to your spirit sighing
I can feel your desperation
Emotional deprivation
Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your feelings show
She watched him through the open door for just a few
moments, enjoying his lithe movements as he worked on
a sketch. He was in his element when he was drawing
or painting; he'd taken to art like the proverbial
duck to water, and no one had been more surprised
about that than he. She stepped quietly inside, not
wanting to interrupt him, but he must have sensed her.
"Hi," he said without turning around.
"Hi yourself," she returned, waiting. He flipped
through a sketch pad and extricated a paper. Turning,
he thrust it at her, feigning indifference.
"Here," was his only comment, and then the real
Michael peeked over the stone wall long enough to say,
"I wanted to know what you thought before I painted
it." Wandering away, affecting nonchalance, he began
shuffling noisily through the contents of his supply
locker, careful not to look at her.
Maria arched an eyebrow in his direction, amused by
his behavior, and then turned her attention to the
paper. It was a sketch of a dancer under the full
moon, gracefully arching back, and though most of the
dancer's face was not visible, Maria recognized
herself. She was stunned. "Michael, I-"
He half turned, still not looking at her. "You what?"
"This is incredibly thoughtful...it's wonderful," she
wanted to hug him til he couldn't breathe, but she
didn't want to scare him, when getting him to open up
even this much was so difficult.
He finally faced her, gently extricating the paper
from her grasp. Turning away to replace it in his
sketch book, he said hesitantly, so softly she almost
couldn't hear him, "I remember the way the moonlight
looked on you the night that I..." he trailed off,
unwilling to voice any more, trusting her ability to
pick up on his nonverbals. 'cried myself to sleep in
your arms,' both of them finished silently in their
minds.
Picking up the conversations
Deep in your imagination
Tune in to the lonely voices
Talking of their only choices
Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your spirit grow
"Would you...I mean, will you be at the Crashdown
later?" He made himself very busy fiddling with things
in his locker, so as to avoid her eyes. He was
nervous enough as it is without her direct, clear gaze
cutting through him.
She stepped forward, stopping directly behind him.
"Michael," she said his name quietly.
He turned, and she curved her hand around the back of
his head, fingers sliding through his soft hair.
"Yes," she pressed a delicate kiss onto the corner of
his mouth and released him, stepping back. He
blinked, rather dazed, and a goofy grin escaped him
before he could suppress it.
Step out of your cage and onto the stage
It's time to start playing your part
Freedom awaits
Open the gates
Open your mind
Freedom's a state
"Good. I mean, maybe I'll see you there," he hastily
amended, and she frowned at him. "Stop looking at me
like that, I can't keep you out when you look at me
like that," he muttered, dropping his eyes.
I can taste the tears falling
The bitterness that's inside you calling
Yearning for a liberation
Emotional emancipation
Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your senses overflow
Maria had the temerity to giggle at his obvious
struggle, and he glared at her. She leaned slowly
closer to him, looking up at him through her lashes
with her best smoky bedroom eyes, lips parted as
though she was going to kiss him. To his credit, he
stayed perfectly still, dark eyes fixed on her
mesmerizing aqua ones, and just before their lips
touched, she tilted her head back and licked the tip
of his nose. Laughing, she scooted out of his reach
towards the doorway as he sputtered and wiped
frantically at his nose. He chased her, and of course
she allowed herself to be caught. Pinning her, he
gave her a long stare that thoroughly heated her
blood, and then he did the most surprising thing of
all.
He smiled.
Not a sarcastic smile, not a mocking smirk. A simple
smile, with all of Michael there in his eyes for her
to see.
And he kissed the tip of her nose, saying, "I'll see
you at the Crashdown," and then left the art room,
leaving her glowing with happiness and floating about
a foot off the ground.
Step out of your cage and onto the stage
It's time to start playing your part
Freedom awaits
Open the gates
Open your mind
Freedom's a state
