The sketchpad in front of me remains blank, taunting me with it's barren, stark white glare beneath the fluorescent lights. My eye twitches at the sight of it and I stand abruptly, switching off the overhead lights.

Sheila huffs but doesn't argue, muttering under her breath as she stalks towards the lamps, flicking them on instead. She's likely complaining about the inconvenience of artists and the peculiarities that come with talent, but frankly, she should be used to it by now.

I don't bother wasting time feeling sorry for her. She chose this career. She hand picked me from a crowd. She knew what she was getting into.

I sit back down in front of my sketch pad, pursing my lips together tightly.

I ignore the clatter of Sheila's keys, the sound bringing me nothing but relief as I am finally left alone for the evening. The emptiness of the studio used to freak me out, but it is immeasurably better than Shelia's incessant hovering.

At first Sheila tried to get me to sign on for 9-5, just like her, but when she realised that I exist in a completely different time zone, and am essentially useless between those hours, she relented and got me my own keys to the studio.

I glance up at the mirror in front of me, eyeing my exposed collar bones with a hint of interest. I bite my lip, doodling what I see onto the sketchpad in front of me, not bothering to look down.

When I'm finished, I look down to observe the interesting line drawing I'm left with. It's not groundbreaking or even particularly good, but it has me thinking, and that's more than I've had in the last two weeks.

My train of thought is broken by an abrupt vibration in my pocket.

I ignore it, knowing it's likely Grey, just checking in.

But then it starts vibrating again and I frown. Grey isn't a double texter.

I'm even more perturbed when my phone starts ringing and I dig it out quickly, frowning when I spot Luka's name on the screen. I immediately answer the call, pressing the phone to my ear as I stand up.

"Luka? What's up?" I ask.

"Ledger, I didn't know who to call. You said I could...anytime..." He says, trailing off. His voice is nothing but a broken sob and I feel my chest tighten.

"It's alright, I meant it. Are you okay? Are you safe?" I ask.

"Yeah...I'm safe." He says softly and I nod to myself, sitting down again.

Safe, but not okay.

"Okay. What's going on?" I ask.

"I'm scared, Ledger. I don't know how to...It's like I'm trapped, I don't know how to be...I just want to be me and I can't talk about it." He whispers, his own frustration cutting him off and I exhale softly.

We've all been there, and I unhappily recall just how lost I was when I was his age.

"It's ok, Luka. Have you spoken to your family about it?" I ask.

"You're my family." He says firmly and I smile.

"I mean your mum, your brothers?" I ask and he hesitates.

"No. I don't know how to." He says and I nod to myself.

"Your family love you, Luka. I promise you, it'll take the weight off your shoulders. School is tough, especially when you're even the slightest bit different, but knowing you have your family behind you, knowing that at home, you can be yourself, it will help." I assure.

"What if they're disappointed?" He asks, just a whisper and I laugh.

"Inconceivable." I say confidently.

"You watch that film too much." Luka says, chuckling.

"You loved it!" I argue and he scoffs.

"It was alright. It was Everett that loved it." He says and my smile dampens.

"You should start with him. He'll understand. You two are more alike than either of you know." I say and he grumbles.

"And then what?" He asks.

"And then you take the next step. Being sixteen sucks, but the sooner you come to terms with who you are, and accept yourself, the easier it is. Oh, and screw anyone who doesn't like it. I know you Luka, you've never been one to take any bullshit." I say easily.

He laughs shakily, sniffling down the phone.

"Thanks, Ledger." He says.

I shut my sketchbook for the evening, knowing where my priorities lie.

"I should go, you're probably busy." He says and I shake my head indulgently.

"I'm done for the day, I'm here as long as you need me."

Because he's right. They're my family.