⟨ status: complete ⟩
"They say artists are nothing but sad people, unaccepted by society of who they are. Masking themselves in 'personas' to fit in." She turned to him, placing her beloved paintbrush on the table with her face adorning a beautiful...
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There she stood on her mother's garden, her hand methodically moved across the canvas as she paints, her eyes selfishly drinking every detail of her subject.
The perspective doesn't look right.
She walked backwards, looking at the picture she painted. Her head tilting from left to right, double checking her art. If only she has a way to somehow flip the drawing. The butt of the paintbrush now tapping on her chin as she thinks to herself, with a sigh, she resumed drawing her piece.
"(Y/N)?"
She stared at the finished drawing, seemingly deep in thought. Eyeing the intricacies of each stroke she had made, she can't help but feel like something is missing.
"(Y/N)."
Would adding a person in the midground make it better? If so, then who?
"(Y/N), hija!~"
The first person that came into mind was Camilo, her eyes narrowed at the thought of him, the audacity of that boy to plauge her mind! She bets he revels at knowing that she's having difficulties at drawing everything but him. Her collection of drawings, paintings, and doodles of him is growing exponentially and is now stocked in a small pile on the corner of her room. Cheeky chameleon. She huffed, gripping her brush tightly, you win this time.
"(Y/N)!"
The sudden shout of her name dragged her out of her trance, she looked behind her to see the owner of the voice, her own mother- who is holding a basket full of her Papí's empanadas looking at her expectantly.
"Finally! Dios mio, I thought I lost my daughter for a moment there!"
Her mother handed her the basket she was previously holding and pushed her out to the front door. The teen was too confused on what to do or even react at the moment, she was just suddenly pushed out the house by her mother without any context.
"I want you to give this to Señora Julietta as an apology gift for stealing her arepas that one time, it's your Papí's super special empanadas!~"
"What-"
"Okay off you go now, chop chop!"
Before she was even able to get any word out, the door was slammed shut at her face. Welp, to the Casita she goes then. Her eyes shifted to the Madrigal household, the distance is so far from her house that she feels exhausted just by looking at it. Begrudgingly, she complied to her mother's wishes and gathered the will to walk towards there.
Actions speak louder than words.
Words are meaningless without tangible evidence that proves what the person says. Actions, compared to words, are concrete and have an everlasting impression— the words that Camilo's father told him once. He stared at the piece of drawing (Y/N) gave to him, eying every detail she noticed from that chance encounter that day. It was an honorable attempt to make him see himself as... Well, himself.
