Erwin spends his days with his teacher and guardian in a little garden outside of common space and time. A curse has affected his teacher, and would take away his sight in the near future. This approaching blindness, along with his teacher's long bu...
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"Yeah, well, it's hard not to. I mean, it's pretty safe, and I'm not scared of much," Erwin explained, grabbing the paintbrushes. They were a little too big for his hands, but weren't too uncomfortable. "And, most importantly, I have you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. I'm not afraid, because I have you."
"Ah. Is that so," his Teacher murmured, his gaze falling. His head was tilted, and his lips were curled, but the boy couldn't read his expression.
"I know that you'll be there, and help me if I need it. So, I'm not afraid."
"What are those for?" Erwin asked, staring at the buckets and brushes on either of his Teacher's sides.
"We'll be learning to paint the walls and fix the floors today," his Teacher said, smiling at the boy. He had a hand on the edge of the table, and the other on the back of his chair, and his legs were slightly bent, as if he was preparing to stand.
"Isn't it too early for this? I mean, shouldn't you, uh, get some rest? Or take it easy?" He didn't want his Teacher to overdo it, especially since his burnt hand had only just begun to recover.
"I'm perfectly fine, Erwin. And besides, what good would laying in bed all day do me? I'd be bored out of my mind, and go insane," his Teacher chuckled, pushing the chair back. "Or are you implying that you think I'm a cripple?"
"What? No, of course not!"
"Oh, thank goodness," the man said, his face shifting. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and a mask had fallen away. He looked relieved, and was smiling, and was holding a hand over his heart. "I thought I'd have to go through the trouble of finding a walking cane. God knows how hard they are to come by."
"Are... are you kidding? Were you just- was this a joke?" Erwin mumbled, staring at the man.
"Maybe. Maybe not," his Teacher grinned, his eyes crinkling. "I suppose you'll never know."
"But- but that's not fair! I'm your student, I should- I need to learn how to do that!"
"Do what, exactly?"
"Make faces like that! Act like that! How did you- I didn't even notice that it was an act, I thought- and-"
"Then I suppose I owe myself a congratulation later," his Teacher chuckled, his head shaking. "Though, in truth, the art of misdirection isn't quite what I'm about to teach you."
"Oh, really? Then what is?"
"Painting. And how to repair wooden floors," the man smiled, his hand rising. He gestured to the supplies, his fingers pointing. "Pick one of the buckets, and take a brush. Once you're finished, follow me."
