“I asked her if she’s free for dinner tomorrow. I’m just trying to get us comfortable again, in person. I’m taking her to her favourite restaurant in the city.”
I focus my attention back on the Bumblebee figurine.
It must be nice to have someone remember your favourite things. I get up and head over to his desk. Beside his keyboard, there’s a sketchbook open. I peer at it, and to my surprise, see a detailed and intricately sketched piece of Sailor Moon.
My lips part, “You drew this?”
At that, Marlon sits up.
“Wait -”
I hear footsteps, and soon he’s beside me, reaching for his sketchbook. There’s a tension in his brow I didn’t expect.
“Sorry, I don’t really -” he lets go of the drawings, “I haven’t shown many people my drawings before. I forgot I left it out.”
Why is he apologising? My eyes drift back toward the sketch. I reach forward, tracing the lines softly, my fingers just hovering but not quite touching it.
“Marlon, this is amazing,” I say, honestly, “Why are you saying sorry, and why would you hide it? This is gorgeous.”
I peer back at Marlon and see the slightest tint on his cheeks. Marlon flustered? It’ll always shock me.
“I like to draw in my spare time. It’s become one of my biggest hobbies.”
I never expected this from Marlon. I’d always assumed that Marlon’s hobbies revolved around basketball and gaming.
“Can I see more?”
I’m expecting him to refuse me, and I’m ready to accept if he does. I can empathise with the anxiety that comes with sharing a creative work with someone else. It’s a daunting thing, and requires a lot of vulnerability.
He’s looking at me now, as if wondering whether he can trust me. Then, to my surprise, he reaches for his mouse. Unlocks his desktop, before clicking on a folder labelled‘sketches’.
Once opened, I’m greeted with numerous files, drafts of his drawings I’m assuming. He rolls his chair back, and gestures for me to sit.
“Go ahead,” he says, “But don’t laugh and don’t judge. Just, maybe stay quiet when you’re looking.”
I give him an assuring smile, and click on the first work. It’s one of Nobara from Jujitsu Kaisen, done so in digital style.
“I haven’t been able to draw much lately since starting uni up again, but I do sketches here and there.”
The next is one of his parents. Then, one of Ryuk, digitised with colour this time. I click through each work, all of them different renditions of his favourite pop culture characters. There’s even one of Christine, dated almost a year ago.
I turn to Marlon, who’s watching me carefully.
“Did you ever show this to Christine?” I ask, softly.
“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head.
“How come?”
“I-I don’t know. Too nervous, I guess? Too shy?”
He’s fiddling with his hands.
“You should, she’d love this.”
I linger on the portrait of Christine, an odd coating of emotion settling over me. Jealousy? Yearning?
“You think so?”
