Chapter Text
"I'm not sure what you expected but if you think that you're going to end up passing this class with this many absences, you're sorely mistaken."
As the teacher and he both stand in the art room. JFK tries his best to retort. "I can er, uh, explain..." truth be told, JFK could not.
Sure, when he was singing and recording another album, that was considered art to him. Paper and pencil though? Having to use the endless amounts of paints to create anything decent for class? It didn't come as easy to him as it did to anyone else. All he could manage to do was stick figures and even that was a debatable skill. Because of that, he hasn't felt much like trying. Guess his spree has come to an end.
"If you got nothing to say for yourself then at least allow me to try and help."
"You'll do that...?"
"Well, this is a high school filling with clones of historical figures. I'm sure you can find an artist who can motivate you but if you need somewhere to start, I suggest talking to Van Gogh."
The school bell rings out, signaling the end of the passing period. Thankfully JFK has lunch next. As long as he can grab a sandwich, he'd be fine trying to spend his time finding this Van Gogh classmate. The name sounds oddly familiar but all he could picture off the top of his head is a short redhead. Other than that, he didn't much to go off of.
~~
- JFK -
The talk has definitely left me feeling frustrated. With one final warning, I say goodbye to the teacher and leave. I head towards the cafeteria, hoping to find someone like Gandhi. More likely than not, he might know where this artist guy is.
Instead, as soon as I turn the corner of the hallway, I bump straight into someone, enough to knock them off their feet. Pencils scatter on the floor, along with a sketchbook that managed to fly out of their hands. An audible gasp echo in the mostly empty hallway. Opening my eyes, I look down to see a pretty short guy in a long dark blue coat with a yellow undershirt, but the thing that catches my eyes the most are the red bands slightly hidden behind white bandages.
Without thinking much, I call out. "Watch where ya' going next time, will ya'?" I didn't mean to come off as rude, but I am in a bit of a hurry.
The guy flinches upon noticing me and avoids any eye contact as he gathers all the fallen materials from the floor. Closely, I could almost hear the small murmurs of apologizes as the clone does so. Seeing how frantic he is, snatching in just as much of a hurry, I sigh. Kneeling, I lift the large sketchbook. The least I could do was help before running off.
On the cover of the sketchbook, written on large ink is the name: Vincent Van Gogh
Shit... "You're that er, short guy from the track meet! No wonder you look so familiar."
Van Gogh's eyes widen in surprise. "I didn't think you'd notice me."
I lean forward, towering over the guy to hear him better. I could tell the guy was pretty shy-looking, but he should at least raise his voice a little more. Might as well be mute with the way he is. Now that I take a closer look through, I immediately remember. "Damn, must've slipped my mind at some point. Can't forget that riot though. You must have been pretty into it, ripping that uh, stop sign and breaking into that store."
"Aha, that was a little embarrassing though... Got carried away with the crowds and all." his face brightens, turning just as red as his hair.
"Uh anyways," I'm not sure why but my nerves started to get to me. It wasn't easy asking for help, especially for something everyone else seems to get. Fidgeting a little with the sleeve of my red and white shirt, I continue. "I was actually trying to look for you. I was wondering if you could er, uh teach me art stuff." I gesture with the sketchbook still in my hands, finishing with a convincing smile.
It must have been a regular question to Van Gogh though because he sighs heavily, looking a little bothered. "If you're thinking of copying off from my assignments, then no. You're not the first to ask."
Well, that's pretty blunt but a Kennedy does not back down. I kneel to the other's level, pleading loudly. "Please, you gotta! I'm gonna fail if I can't make anything. I promise, my uh, art will be 100% authentic, Kennedy made. All ya' got to do is teach me how. Please!" I drag out my words, sounding desperate enough for a chance.
~~
- Van Gogh -
All I wanted to do was spend my lunch period in the art classroom. There were many shelves filled with books of references and most specifically, those of the original Van Gogh. If I could take the time to borrow them, quietly reading, then maybe I could come close to being proud of the work I create. I didn't think it would be interrupted by a tall and loud classmate of mine. Of course, I knew who he was in an instant, I just didn't think I would be smacking into him after trying to rush myself. I often attended basketball games and watched the team practice. Not only was it pretty peaceful behind the bleachers to catch up on new books and doodle in my sketchbook, but I also got to see him. Always joking around with teammates, having fun, always managed to be surrounded by friends too...
There was no hatred nor jealousy in the way I saw him. In fact, it's the complete opposite. The only problem was that there was never an opportunity to talk until now...
Having a popular jock begging on his knees was not something I wanted to be caught with though, especially when I was already exhausted by the dramatic cries for help. I immediately cave in, my favoritism kicking me for not accepting sooner. Besides, the strange glances we were getting from the passing classmates were starting to make me a little anxious. "Alright, alright, I'll do it! J-Just stand up already and stop being so loud. There are people everywhere." I'd rather not cause a big scene but it did feel somewhat nice, seeing him acknowledge that I have some skills in the arts, enough that he would ask in the first place. I truly didn't think he would come to me.
Yes, I may or may not have some feelings for the taller jock but it's not like I'm going anywhere with this. All he's doing is asking to spend time with me, possibly alone together...
Wait, no! my wandering thoughts are interrupted as JFK stands up again. Winning easily in the argument causes another smile on the jock's face. His eyes brighten. "Cool! See ya' later, tiny man."
Even if I went down easy, I still can't allow any real cheating. "But remember, fully authentic. I already have enough on my plate, I don't want to get into any trouble." running my hand through my hair, I already feel my worries settling in. I know nothing about teaching people. Art always came naturally for me, considering it's in my blood, but it's so often that I felt discouraged by my own creations. What would I say? Prepare for disappointment, there's going to be a lot of it? Alright, maybe not exactly that but I do need to come up with something, anything for inspiration. Otherwise, there's bound to be disappointment.
Looking up at JFK, those worries only begin to swarm.
This is an instant regret though, isn't it?
"C-Can I get my sketchbook back? We can talk later but lunch is almost over." I stuff my pencils into my coat pocket as I'm handed back my book. Relief washes over me as the pages seem to be intact. The cover is a bit dirty but no major damage to the drawings I keep inside. "Thank you, JFK," I mumble back, awkwardly. Can't even begin to look him in the eyes either... damn it.
The bell rings yet again, and we pass each other, going to our separate classes.
I clutch my stomach as it growls hungrily. I let out a heavy sigh and ignore it, not believing what just happened.
This better be worth it...