[Open] Conceal

The art room, though wide and well-ventilated, smelled faintly of charcoal. The faint buzz of quiet conversation between students filled the air, as well as the scritch of pencils on paper. The general effect of the atmosphere in art class would have been pleasant for Melli, but all she could feel was the sweat on her face, and the dry, crumbly taste of powdered charcoal in the air.

The sketchbook on her desk was covered in several, dark, childishly scribbled lines. She glared at the failed attempts at drawing with disgust before looking down at her left hand. It was shaking violently, barely managing to hold on to her pencil. She clutched her left wrist, stabilizing it momentarily, and glanced to the left. It didn’t look like anyone had noticed.

That was good. If she dropped the pencil now, it would be a disaster.

She turned to a fresh page with her right pinky, and laid the tip of the pencil on the paper.

Deep breath, back straight, and don’t tense up. Relax.

No sooner than she thought those words, her left hand suddenly moved seamlessly across the paper. It drew a short, straight line near the top of the page, slanted slightly to the right. The pause after she drew was all that she needed to register what was happening.

No. No, not again.

Her hand went on to draw curved lines below the first stroke. All the blood drained from her face, and her right hand stiffened, too shocked to even stop her dominant hand. The hum of her classmates’ voices, the light pouring in through the windows started dissolving, melting into echoes of her own thoughts. “It’s happening again... it’s happening again...”

A viola was half-drawn on the page. Melli’s eyes swept the room frantically, too quick to register anything coherent in her field of vision. She bowed her head so that her pale hair shielded the sketchbook. No one must notice.

Melli stiffened when she felt someone touch her arm. She never really liked being touched. She didn't even turn around to see who it was, but she did glance beside her for a moment, before turning her gaze back to the sketchbook. It wasn't like she saw anyone, her vision was still swimming.

She felt that forcing her drawing hand to stop would be a bit too obvious, so she quickly shut the sketchbook, pressing its glossy cover down on her drawing hand. Hopefully it would come off as an attempt to hide her work from curious eyes.

"I-I'm fine, I," she stammered, perhaps a bit more quietly than she should have. She tensed her hands, and cleared her throat. "Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine here."

Melli started. It wasn't too often that she met someone who would openly show her their work, much less move right next to her to show her a drawing. Her head was clearing a little, so that was good.

She took a moment to admire the hyacinths on the paper. "I won't laugh, don't worry. It actually is very well done." Sure, it looked more like a bunch of funny bananas, and there were a few bad smudges here and there, true, but she had to say something nice.

"Have you drawn anything else?" Melli asked, hoping that her hand would stop drawing already. She was still pressing down on it, but that didn't stop the scribbling. Maybe she'd throw that page out later.

Melli nodded slowly, not prying into the other student's abandoned drawing. Some things were better left unseen. And that drawing sounded like it did not end well. She resorted to nodding and listening, slightly relieved that she wasn't shaking as badly as she was a few minutes ago. She was surprised that someone could be so relaxed, but she didn't let it show on her face.

"I'm afraid I fell out of the habit of drinking tea years ago. I used to drink too much black tea, but I was a child then." She took a breath and let it out slowly. "Is that chamomile? It's not something I've tried much, but it's fine enough."

"I'm glad it works so well for you."

Melli bent over her sketchbook, letting her hair fall so that it concealed her work. Lifting the glossy cover up a fraction of an inch, she stared at her "work." A thick, dark, chalky line had slashed across the neck of the viola, but her hand was still drawing of its own accord.

Hearing Hari cough, she glanced towards him and raised an eyebrow. "I appreciate your concern, but perhaps it's you who needs to step out for a little," she commented dryly. "You don't sound like you're used to charcoal."