Titanium Promises

Twenty-three

After what happened on the porch, we got to eat our breakfast after Luke reheated it in the microwave. I was pleasantly surprised at Luke's ability to cook, and he told me it was his Nana who taught him how.

"Wait here," Luke says, just after we had finished eating. He gathers up our plates from the balcony table before disappearing inside.

I sit in silence once again, enjoying the cold, until Luke reappears.

"I might have managed to grab some things from the apartment," he says, both of his hands behind his back.

I raise a brow. "What sort of things?"

He approaches the table then brings the hidden items forward. It's a significant portion of the art supplies we had bought the other day, including two canvases, a diverse paint set, and all the brushes I could ask for.

"You did this?" I ask in disbelief.

He shrugs. "Of course I did," he says as he takes a seat in the chair next to me. "So how does this work, anyway?"

"Painting? It's pretty simple, actually. I would suggest finding the right reference photo first."

"Do you know what you're going to paint?"

I shrug. "Probably a landscape." I carefully unwrap the plastic covering the canvases and bunch it up into a pile before throwing it back inside. "What about you?"

"I'm not sure," he says, nervously rubbing the base of his neck. "I told you I really don't know what I'm doing."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Seems like there is."

"I swear there isn't. Besides, after some time you can find your own style, and no one can tell you it's wrong because it's your own."

He starts unwrapping his own canvas. "That's true."

I unlock my phone and open my music app. Luckily, I downloaded my playlist for times just like this. I press play and put it on low volume to have it in the background.

"Does it bother you?" I ask, putting my phone  down on the table.

"Not at all."

We divide the supplies then spend another ten minutes looking for reference photos for the both of us. I end up deciding on a shot of a fall forest covered in a white fog. Luke ended on an image of a purple sunset hidden behind the silhouette of a building.

"I love that," I say.

He smiles. "Thank you, I picked it out myself."

We both turn back towards our canvases, paint brushes in hand. He glances nervously at me. I almost laugh at the fact that he's nervous about this after everything that's happened.

Everyone's afraid of something, I guess.

The moment my paintbrush touches the canvas, I surrender myself to the painting and let the world fade away.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫

I'm not sure how long we both sit there, our brushes gliding across the canvases. I happily lose time in the moment, stealing glances at Luke. Every so often he sits back and twists the ring on his index finger as he stares at what he's painted so far. I continue to ask to see it, but he just shields it with his body and insists that it isn't done.

I've been finished for a few minutes now. I didn't spend too much time on details, but I still love the way the fog ended up looking.

Luke finally concedes and lets me see his painting.