Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yasmina was a track star.

Is a track star. She runs, and runs, and keeps running until she hits the finish line. Always. 

  And over the past couple of months, she’d done a lot of running. This could be credited to the fact that she, along with five other kids, had been abandoned on a remote, dinosaur-infested island with nobody to look after them but themselves. So, it’s safe to say that Yaz had faced a lot. A lot meaning dinosaurs, dinosaurs, and more dinosaurs; and really, just a lot of dinosaurs.

And despite that, today she found herself facing what was potentially the toughest, most frustrating, most boring challenge of all; art block. 

  Yaz was sitting atop a tree branch, legs swinging as she tapped her pencil against blank paper. She was lost, out of ideas. 

    More dinosaurs? She’d had enough, thanks. Plants? Boring. She paused to sweep her surroundings.
  Bumpy wasn’t far, bellowing and huffing as Ben attempted to teach her tricks below the treehouse, encouraging her with berry bush branches and waving them frantically like an aircraft marshal in a fruitless attempt to get her to roll over.

           Darius and Brooklyn had gone out on a hunt for a parasaurolophus herd, buddying up for safety but both venturing for their own respective reasons; Darius, to write down nerd stuff in his Jurassic field guide, and Brooklyn to gather more dino content for her following. So, Yaz supposes, not very different reasons after all. 

       Kenji was snoring on the couch, having fallen asleep after .. well, Yaz doesn’t really know what. Probably nothing, actually. It didn’t take much for him to decide he’d had enough excitement in one day. It didn’t matter; his activities and whereabouts were furthest from the struggling artists wandering mind.

Last but not least, was .. Sammy. Yaz looked down from her tree top view, chewing on the pencils worn out and nearly non existent eraser. 

          Sammy was sat on the crooked wooden floor of the treehouse, leaning against the side of the couch. The sun hit her face, and she seemed to soak in it. Her arms rested behind her head, legs crossed, and Yaz’s eyes sparkled. Something about her shape, her form; the details. The stray hairs hanging in front of her face, clinging to her tan skin with dirt, the freckles dotting her arms, her eyes …

“.. uh, you hungry?”

… that were looking right at her.

Yaz jumped, the pencil falling from her mouth, wood covered in fresh teeth marks. She scrambled, grabbing at it as it tumbled, and gripped it close to her chest as she finally caught it. She glanced around, eyes wide and nervous, and Sammy just giggled.

 The sound tugged at Yaz’s heartstrings, and she gulped. She could feel the blush creeping onto her face and turned away. Embarrassing!

“Sorry. Just .. distracted,” Yaz finally admitted, mentally hitting herself over the head.

   At that, Sammy raised a brow, sly smile on her face. But she merely shrugged her freckled shoulders and said nothing, shutting her eyes and going back to her catnap in the sun. 

    
Yaz’s longing gaze lingered, before her expression hardened. She shook her head. Focus, Yasmina! 

       The thought made her pause, and she realised that, for once, she didn’t have a pressing issue, or major emergency, or dinosaur breathing right down her back. So she, albeit hesitantly, allowed herself another glance at the girl snoozing just below her. 

           Again, she could feel her face flushing. She swallowed, studying the girls figure, and felt a relief wash over her as she finally put her pencil back to work.

    Her lines were soft, sketchy, and not perfect, but there was a sort of charming self indulgence making itself obvious in each stroke. 

Before Yaz knew it, she had filled a handful of pages with freckled faces and soft eyes and little hearts surrounding them. Looking down at her paper, she screwed up her face, stuck between a smile and a frown. She wasn’t sure how to feel.
    Was she proud of it? In an artistic sense, yes. Some of her best pieces yet. But mentally, she felt a drop in her stomach. A sort of disgusted guilt was tugging at her; shame. This felt .. weird. She felt like a creep. Especially considering she had no intention of showing this to Sammy, or anyone, ever, at all. It was for her eyes only .. and somehow that made her feel worse. 

  Yaz scrunched up her nose, brows furrowed, and sighed. She had to get rid of them, fast. Before something happened; like Sammy being .. well, Sammy, and asking to see what she’d drawn; Yaz could never say no to anything she asked. Or someone else finding them, and knowing her secret. Quietly judging her. Yaz continued to spiral.

Lost in her own prison of a mind, she failed to notice the sketchbook slipping out of her lap, not until it was far too late and already in the air. A yelp escaped from her throat, catching Sammy’s attention; but Sammy didn’t have much time to react before the sketchbook hit her. 

Right. In. The. Face.

Yaz’s heart dropped. She considered jumping off as well, but this low of a drop wouldn’t kill her fast enough. So she scrambled off of the branch; sliding onto the treehouse floor, kicking a vine from her foot, swiping leaves from her hair, and apologising profusely.

“Sorry, I- um, I’m sorry! It just.. Just- uh ..”

Sammy wasn’t listening. Sitting up now, she was staring into the sketchbook, awe written all over her face. Her rosy cheeks seemed redder than usual, eyes wide, jaw ever so slighty agape.

     Yaz paused in front of her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as she searched for something, anything, to say. Nothing. Her stomach folded into a knot, and she thought she might be sick. 

          How could she ever explain herself?! What would Sammy say? What would Sammy do? What would Yaz do?! Walk into the jungle, maybe, and never come back. That seemed like a good option. Or leap into the watering hole, and let herself sink. Sacrifice herself to Big Eatie? A little too painful. But maybe she deserved it. Oh, God!

“These are awesome ,”

What?

“What?”

“You drew these?? I mean- duh, but like .. wow! They’re so pretty! Jeez, I’m so pretty! I only had my portrait done like, once before, when I was lil’, and I always begged my parents to retake it, ‘cus I didn’t know how they worked, and my parents had to me that the artist’d havta draw it all over again, and I cried. But this .. wow!”

In the past couple of months, Yaz had escaped dinosaur attack after dinosaur attack; but nothing could compare to the relief she was feeling in this moment. It took everything in her not to fall to her knees then and there. Instead, she lowered herself, sitting at Sammy’s level.

“You .. like them?”

“Do I?! I love ‘em!!” Sammy squealed, hugging the sketchbook to her chest and giving it a squeeze. Yaz gave her a soft smile, and Sammy echoed the expression.

“Could I, uh,” Sammy cleared her throat. She seemed nervous now. She flips through the pages. 

“Ya think I could keep this one?” Sammy holds the sketchbook up, covering her sheepish grin and increasingly red face. 

            Yaz leans forward, holding out a hand, and Sammy obliges, handing the sketchbook back over. Yaz pulls the page out with a loud rip. It tears perfectly along the edge, further framing the portrait. Wordlessly, she hands it back to Sammy.

With the sketchbook sat between them, they met each other's gaze. There was a moment of silence, the atmosphere felt soft. Fuzzy. Yaz thought she might pass out; everything she had drawn out on those pages, sitting right in front of her. She took mental notes for future art sessions.

Eventually, she broke the contact, glancing back down at the sketchbook. The lead had smudged slightly, thanks to Sammy’s .. enthusiastic response, and Yaz couldn’t help but smile wider. A permanent reminder of how overjoyed Sammy had been. 

“Sorry if I, er, ruined the drawin’ ..” Sammy murmured, following Yaz’s gaze.

“No,” Yaz shook her head, chuckling softly. “You made it better.” 

THUD

The girls yelped, tree shaking as they stumbled into eachother. 

“Sorry, guys!” Ben shouted from below. “ Just Bumpy!”

“Dude!” Growls a disgruntled Kenji, waking from his nap. “How’d she even get in here?!” 

He peers over the edge, facing Ben, who looked up at him and shrugged sheepishly.

     Meanwhile, Yaz found herself leaping backwards; in a panic, she’d clung to Sammy - although, she noted, Sammy had clung back - and further embarrassed herself. She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing away. Sammy smiled. It was cute.

“Yo! Samster! ”

Sammy cringed at the name, moment ruined. Meanwhile, Yaz had never been so relieved to hear Kenji’s voice. 

     “Since I’m up now, you wanna go material hunting? I need something to do, get my feet aching! You know how active I am.” He flexed, and Sammy rolled her eyes. 

“ Sure , Kenji,” She scoffed, but there was still a smile on her face as she stood, setting the paper down on the wonky-legged coffee table.

     Following Kenji to the treehouse ladder, Sammy paused, turning around to find Yaz already searching for a new branch. You’d think she’d learn her lesson, Sammy mused, smiling to herself with an affectionate shake of her head.

Yaz though, couldn’t help but think that some accidents .. maybe .. weren’t always so bad.