The sight of you brings a flood of foreign emotions I could not quite name. I look at you and my stare instantly softens as soon as they meet your enchanting amber brown eyes. My heart flutters at the melody of your laughter; my face feels warm at t...
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My mother thought it was a great idea to bring me along with her to a friend's house. I watched as she talked to her friend about things I had no interest in. I sighed before getting up from the couch and making my way up the stairs, my hand running along the wooden railing. I was searching for something; something that could keep me busy.
I guess you could say I was looking for something to do. The house itself was quite beautiful but it was also a bit boring because everything was like art and it felt completely wrong if I wanted to touch things or play with things.
I had almost given up when I spotted a closed door at the end of the hall. I slowly opened it and was surprised to find a small room. It was a white room, the walls had spots of different paint colours, there was canvas' either on the ground or a shelf in the corner, it smelt of fresh paint which I kind of liked. I scan the room before noticing another person in there.
Inside the room was another boy, around the same age, in a wheelchair. He was sitting in front of a canvas and carefully painting with watercolours. I watched him for a while, fascinated by the painting and the skill with which the boy created it. It's as if everything he had balled up inside of him; he'd paint it on a blank canvas, making art.
The painting boy finally noticed me and gave me a small smile. He offered me a brush and asked me to join him; which I found odd since I'm a literal stranger in his home. I hesitantly enter the room and make my way towards him. I stop in my tracks as I carefully take the paintbrush from his hand. I let out a sigh and inspected the brush in my hand. I notice a name imprinted on the stick with gold. 'Kai. L,' it read. I figured it was probably his name.
"My mother got that customized so it had my name on it." He spoke. His voice was gentle and comforting, almost like Naomi's but warmer. I could tell he was trying to communicate and get me to talk back seeing as I haven't said a word since I found him painting in this colourless yet colourful world of his. "My name's Kai Lee." He continues. I look at him with a blank stare.
The silence between us wasn't awkward but it was sickening. I could tell he rarely had visitors, so he was trying to make a friend... and unfortunately, I had to suffer. I mean, it was probably a surprise to see me standing in the hallway, watching him paint on a seemingly blank canvas. I take my time and study the boy, taking in every perfect imperfections of his.
The way his black hair effortlessly fell over his eyebrows, his long eyelashes and his calming smile. I noticed the way he sat in his wheelchair, he looked like he was comfortable yet insecure about it. After a few minutes of curious silence, the boy in the wheelchair put down his paintbrush and used his wheelchair to make his way over to me, moving too close for my liking.
Before he could ask for my name or if I do talk, I just allowed myself to say something, "My name's Matteo Carrington." It was a hushed introduction, but it was worth it because he stopped right before me. "I can see you like to paint." I start, trying my best to move along and not have to stare at him any longer. I didn't want him to notice my imperfections that nobody found perfect.
"Yeah, it allows me to exit into a world of my own. I've been in this house for 3 years, so, painting is my only escape." I was shocked at first and tried to think of reasons why he was in this house for so long. It hits me suddenly that maybe it had something to do with the wheelchair, or maybe his mother was embarrassed to have her son be seen outside. I can't help but allow the silence to fog over us again. But instead of me breaking it, Kai does this time. He clears his throat.
"Why are you so quiet, Matteo?" He asks, moving his way back to the painting he was busy with. I leaned over a bit to see what exactly he was painting. My eyes widened when I caught a glimpse of his artwork, and in all honesty, for a twelve-year-old boy, this was extremely impressive. The painting was like looking through a window from someone's bedroom.
The strokes of the cloudy sky he created. The solid, misty grey blends perfectly with the lonely blue. The way you could see the people walking on the pavement, they looked happy but the world they were walking through looked miserable. It was almost like I was seeing his version of the world we didn't grow up in.
I pause for a moment then close my eyes, thinking of what to say. "Because I just don't feel like it." That was all I said before picking up a medium-sized canvas and placing it on the stand that was beside his. I twirl his paintbrush, thinking of what to paint but I just couldn't think of anything.
I feel Kai nudge me and I give him a side glance, he hands me a paint palette filled with different coloured paint. He smiled sweetly, "Paint something you wish to say if you don't feel like speaking." He focuses on his work and hums, "Express yourself."
With that, I dripped the brush into the water and then the paint before hesitantly stroking it against the blank world before me. I used the colours I had and mixed them to the create new colours.
Brown.
Hazel.
Orange.
I then used an important colour that I hated the most but grew to tolerate because of one person. The one colour that stood out and reminded me of that individual.
Yellow.
I learned to ignore my surroundings and focus on my work of art. I think about what I need the most...
... who I needed the most.
After what seemed like hours, I dropped the brush into the cup of water and took a step back, taking the time to admire my artwork.
"She's beautiful." Kai's voice broke the silence.
I nod and look over at him. "She's perfect. She's the only person who hasn't looked at me with disgust. She would try everything she could to comfort me or to try and understand what I was going through. Even though I can't tell her much about myself, she still takes the time to understand me."
The look in Kai's eyes was gentle as cotton, "Do you love her?"
Love? I don't think so. I mean, I just started to know her more. I can't love her knowing I've known her for a month and a few weeks. Love. The four-letter word I loathed in the beginning is now coming back for me. I want to say yes but I can't.
Is this what it felt like? The painful feeling of liking someone you know you can't have? The butterflies that flutter and give you a weird feeling when you're near that person? The pinkish tint that would stain my cheeks every time I found myself beside her, my hand on hers or her hand on mine? Was it like ignoring all the negative things around you and focusing on the one positive thing? Her.
... Crap.
"She's just my friend," I answer.
"The look in your eyes says something else, Matt."
Does it?
But the boy in the wheelchair just smiled and said, "It's okay to feel these things, even if you don't understand them. You don't have to ignore your feelings."
I don't have to?
But for her, I must ignore these feelings. I don't want to ruin a friendship I never knew I needed in my life.
