Just a little add, I really want to think about the next part, but I also had to keep going before I completly forgot where I was going haha. Soon there will be lots of action! Hope you enjoy, and as always I am sorry for any mistakes, or parts that don't make sense (tell me about those!).
The professor slowly walked from the room closing the door behind him. Soul sat up on Scott’s lap, looking down at him. The spell was broken.
“What just happened?” He asked. Slowly, careful not to rub Scott too firmly, Soul climbed off the desk and began picking up the pencils. When he finished and moved on to papers his flush had faded. Scott seemed recovered too and went to answer the door.
“What happened?” Soul repeated when the door opened. The professor looked at him warily, Scott sat in the chair and pulled Soul onto his lap.
“I was in the library, and found a book of paintings that reminded me of Soul’s.” The professor remained in the doorway and his eyes flicked from one boy to the other. Scott rubbed Soul’s back.
“Why was I so angry? I don’t get angry.” Soul blinked his luminous eyes slowly. The pupils were still dilated, making the green seem greener.
Scott leaned forward and kissed Soul’s neck, now that Soul was open to his touch, Scott couldn’t pull himself away.
“From what I have learned, most people with the Talent have some sense that makes it easier. Usually it is the same sense that their talent manifests through. Though some people are exceptions.” The professor took another step into the room, his usual confidant demeanor returning. Soul blinked again.
“I don’t get it.”
“What he means,” Scott began, “is the Talent can take different forms- some people speak prophecy, some write it, some see it… I’ve never heard of someone who drew it. But that may be changing.” The professor nodded. Soul was still confused.
“That doesn’t explain how angry I was. I’ve been frustrated before, who hasn’t. I have been irritated. But I could have sworn I saw red. As cliché as that sounds.” Scott hummed into Soul’s neck. This crossed the line and Soul stood and began pacing the small room. “Why does nothing make sense? I hate him.” Soul glanced at Scott, “or hated him. I have no idea how I feel. I kissed him- or he kissed me and it was amazing. But I don’t know him. I never thought- I hated him.”
“Whatever grants Talent-“
“It was because your power comes from touch, and well we were touching.” Scott interrupted. “The closer, the more intimate touch the more power goes with the vision, or whatever. It’s why families try to pair their children with someone of their own power level, or higher. Someone that will compliment his or her power.”
“Sex creates the most powerful magic.” The professor murmured. “I was told that so many times. It was why your father was so possessive of your mother, one of the reasons she wanted you away from that world. It is natural for parents to imagine their children’s intimate relationships. She thought ahead, probably because of her recent troubles, and didn’t want you to have to be with someone you didn’t love.” Scott twisted his hands together.
“My parents didn’t care about that. They were only happy that your parents were willing. Well your father- I don’t want you to hate me.” Soul stared, his gaze flicking between the two men.
“Well my mom failed then. Here I am, away from that but still with you.” Now that he wasn’t touching Scott the pull he felt toward him was fading.
When he saw the look on Soul’s face Scott’s heart fell. He had been making so much progress. They could have really discovered something if Professor white hadn’t walked in just then.
“I need to think.” Soul was so overwhelmed. Why did all this have to happen today? “The world isn’t ending today so I can have some time to think, yes?” The professor almost said something; he really wanted to mention the urgency of discovering the meaning behind Soul’s drawings. He really wanted to mention the similar drawing he had found in the basement of the library. But he knew, tonight they wouldn’t be getting anywhere. But he didn’t know that Soul would take the next six weeks to ‘think’.
Soul went to classes, even professor White’s, but he didn’t interact with anyone. He ate alone in the room, choosing to eat in the library when Jon was there. He did all his homework to perfection. He was a better student than he had ever been before. He tried not to draw, but when the urge hit him he couldn’t stop it. It was like having a muse on his shoulder. When it was time to create, there was no stopping it. But each picture he drew during his urges, he burned.
Soul retreated into his shell. He didn’t speak to anyone. He floated through the halls like pollen, everywhere, but silent.
Scott was devastated. He ignored his new friends and considered telling his family he had found Soul. He sent flowers, he tried to talk to Soul, he left emails and notes. All were ignored. When he couldn’t stand it anymore Scott broke into Professor White’s grading cabinet and found Soul’s summer portfolio.
Scot flipped through the first paintings, noting the composition and the craftsmanship of each one, until he reached the last one. It was different from the others, it was not a forest, it was a meadow, filled with poppies. It was a near exact copy of the mural on Scott’s bedroom wall, an exact copy of the first day he had drawn flowers in Professor White’s class. Only in Scott’s drawing Soul was laying among the flowers, the red of poppy petals staining his lips. The only color he had used.
Scott stole the picture, or borrowed as he told himself and quickly scrawled a note on the back.
Hate me if you want, the note began, but we really need to talk, rose garden at 3. –S
Soul frowned at the painting. If Scott had seen this, he must have seen the other paintings. He was right, they did need to talk. Soul sent an email agreeing to meet and considered running away, or calling his mom. The latter option won.
Once on the phone Soul couldn’t bring himself to reveal that he knew the whole story to his mom. Something was holding him back, but as she gushed about her little baby finally calling Soul could only think about kissing Scott and the possible betrayal he was committing by meeting him.