Page 51 of Two’s Better

“I ... I’m afraid.” That told me she’d at least considered it already.

“Of what?” I asked softly.

It took a moment before she spoke again. “Remember the comic I was writing in Foundation year?”

“Ah. Don’t you mean comics—plural?” She used to upload short comics—that she’d written, boarded, illustrated and coloured—on the regular back then; her work had been so good she’d amassed an impressive following online.

She laughed. “Yes. Fine. Comics. You know I’d planned to start monetising it, maybe—to build a community, get my name out there or whatever. Well, at the time, I kind of ... told my dad about it.”

“Oh.” I had noticed once we started Uni, she didn’t upload as much anymore. And when she did draw something not architecture related, it was only little doodles she pretended meant nothing. Fuck, her father must’ve said something to discourage her. And I claimed to be her best friend? How the fuck hadn’t I noticed?

“He was ... not a fan,” Ofure confirmed with a sarcastic smile. “Said shit like that was for hobbyists, not people who were serious about their future. And on top of that, he didn’t want anything distracting me from “the plan”.”

I remembered it now; I had asked her about it when I’d first noticed the drop off, and she’d waved me off with this exact spiel about needing to focus on school, about her art being “just a hobby”, and how she’d do the comic thing on the side after we graduated and started working, and only if she had free time.

“Damn. That’s so messed up, Fure. I-I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t even. I hadn’t known better back then; if I sincerely believed what I was saying, which I had, how were you supposed to know? You’re not a mind reader.”

“Well. When you put it that way.” I grinned when she laughed. “But ... this is clearly something you want to do. And what your father said—that was nearly four years ago.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. I gave her a few moments. “Art has always felt—making comics, drawing ...” She let out a frustrated sound. “There’s a difference between drawing for fun and doing it for school or for work. What if studying it begins to make me hate it?”

“I don’t think you will,” I said carefully but honestly. “Plus, I think it’ll be better to study something you do enjoy, or you’ll just end up repeating this whole architecture fiasco—studying for a degree you hate.”

“Right. You’re right.”

“So. It’s settled then. When next your father calls, you know he’s going to ask, and now you have a response. If you want us to do a little more research, narrow it down to a specific degree just so you’re more confident when he calls, we can do that, too.”

Her eyes grew wide, and her lips parted, like she was only just realising the gravity of our brainstorming session.

“You’re freaking out,” I said with amusement.

“Only a little,” she admitted, and I laughed. “It’s just hitting me that I’m going to do this. I’m really doing this. Once we graduate, that’ll be the end of architecture for me.” Her shoulders straightened, like saying the words out loud had given her a boost of confidence. “And I’m going to study art.”

That had come out a little more hesitantly, so I said, with exaggerated excitement, “You’re going to study art!”

She grinned at me. “And I’ll start working on a comic!”

“And you’ll start working on a comic!”

“And life’s going to be fucking great!”

“Hear, hear!”

She laughed, the sound full of relief. When she looked at me again, her eyes were full of gratitude. “Uzezi—”

“Never thank me again.”

She giggled. Then her gaze dropped to my mouth. My stomach lurched.

Her phone began to ring.

“It’s my mum.” She looked a little terrified. “Daddy’s probably talked to her. More like ranted to her, if I want to be honest.”

I snorted. “Go on. Take the call. I’ll be here. And Fure? No matter what, I’ve got you, yeah? Everything will be fine.”

She gave me a strained smile, then left the room for some privacy. I closed the rest of the tabs, leaving the one with the potential art degree open before shutting down the browser and switching off my laptop. I was glad I’d helped her figure this out. It was just unfortunate that, as we’d been doing so, my own discontent had only grown.