a brief jathrid moment from an unreleased piece since I’ve been doing so much writing but not sharing any of it:
“Of course.” Kath pressed her lips to his temple and he watched one of her impeccably manicured nails tap the charcoal image of Davey. “This one in particular. That looks exactly like David, Jack— how do you do it?”
“Ah, it ain’t nothin’ special.” He murmured softly, following the lines her nail traced.
Katherine scoffed and placed a gentle hand on his knee. “You’re too humble, Jack Kelly. David! Come look!”
For some reason, Jack’s heart clenched in his chest at the thought of Davey seeing such a detailed drawing of himself. It had taken Jack the majority of their outing to create— amongst a few other short sketches of Kath, studying the way her loose, carefully rolled curls fell around her shoulders compared to the wild, natural disorder of David’s.
In truth, Jack normally didn’t show people his sketches. He hadn’t even liked showing Katherine at first, but they’d had one too many arguments about Jack’s issues with vulnerability so he’d since learned to show her a piece every so often, and he always drank up the sweet praise and encouragement she offered him in response, her perfect lips always forming a lovely grin around white teeth. Conversely, Davey didn’t press. If Jack decided to show him a piece, he’d start smiling and his eyes would scrunch into pleased half-moons and it was sort of like seeing the sun after a week of rain. Jack would create random, half-assed little sketches just to see that genuine smile.
Davey sat up and swiped a freckled hand over his eyes, and Jack watched as chocolate brown curls fell over his forehead. He and Katherine both had excellent hair— so different, too. Kath’s bright ginger, always perfectly styled, and Davey’s curls cropped close to his head by his mother (Jack always liked it more when it grew out). Jack was lucky to have such lovely looking people surrounding him.
And now Dave was sleepily moving across the blanket to sit next to the pair, stretching the stillness out of his lanky limbs. Jack eyed the sliver of his chest that revealed itself behind his partially unbuttoned shirt.
“Jack drew you.” She grinned widely as she slid the sketchbook into Davey’s pale hands. They were freckled and stained with ink, just like his pale forearms.
Davey’s round green eyes flitted over the page and Jack watched with a feeling of pride as the other boy bit down on his bottom lip, holding back a smile. “Wow, Jackie.”
“Christ, stop actin’ like I’m Van Goff or somethin’, you two.” Jack muttered, rubbing his hands over his face to hide his own smile. Davey liked the drawing. Of course he did. So did Kath. Jack had no idea why he was so embarrassed, but Kath tended to do that to him. Unfortunately, so did Davey. Little things that would turn Jack’s stomach into knots and melt his words right out of his mouth.
“Van Gogh.” Both Katherine and Davey corrected him at the exact same time, with the exact same strain of know-it-all in their exasperated tones.
Then, they shared a glance and bursted into giggles, and Jack’s heart beat wildly within his chest because he might’ve felt sort of stupid for not knowing that old guy’s name, but at least the two people he cared for most were getting along so swimmingly.