My eyes stay fixed on the painting, hands stained with color as the brush moves slowly, carefully. This is the last touch. I trace the line with a gentleness that almost feels like fear, as if one wrong movement might ruin everything.
A quiet sigh slips from my lips.
Finally.....
I lean back, shoulders relaxing after hours of tension. It took me more than five hours.
Five hours of silence, focus, and a strange tightness in my chest I couldn't explain. I stretch lazily, then turn back to the canvas, really looking at it this time.
So this is Kiren Blackwood.
The boy in the painting stares back at me. White hair like freshly fallen snow. Eyes shining silver-white, unreal, almost otherworldly.
Beautiful in a way that doesn't feel human. My gaze lingers longer than it should, my heartbeat slowing, then betraying me by speeding up.
He's… beautiful.
The word slips into my mind before I can stop it. My lips part slightly as if his name is about to fall from them.
