"Art is everything, really. Even spilling paint on a canvas can look great if you believe that it looks great. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all." I spoke while looking at his work.
"You're just saying that to make me feel good. I mean, look at this. This is anything but art." Liam said while pointing at his canvas. I smiled despite myself because of his frustration.
"I'm serious." I sat beside him. "Why? What do you see in your painting?" I asked. We both stared at it until he spoke.
"I see crooked lines. I see wrong shades of colors. I see disaster. This is so far from what you've painted. This is so far from art."
"You want to know what I see?" I looked at him with wonder evident in his eyes, then back to the painting again. "I see extraordinary shapes. I see contrasting colors. I see uniqueness in this painting and it's amazing how you were able to come up with this from your own art."
I paused and looked straight at him this time. He looked at me as well, as if willing to hear what I'd say next.
"It's because you look at only the imperfections. You painted a picture, not a series of faults. It may take time to appreciate your work, but you should at least try." I smiled.
His gaze never left mine, creating an atmosphere of silence and heartbeats between us. I tried to break the eye contact but I felt light at his look, as if the whole world was behind me and that the only thing left was him and his precious brown eyes. My heart turned warm, and I was left wondering why.
"If that's the case," he spoke softly, still looking at me while his face slowly drew nearer to mine, "it's not a wonder why I had always been attracted to you ever since."
