oneshots 2.

04; zaniel

through windows.

—
lavender oils glided across the canvas, zachary's hands bending and folding to make to perfect lines. he tilted his head in sync with his paint strokes.

he stepped back, biting the tip of the wooden handle. he folded his arm over his torso, sighing deeply. "rubbish." he tossed his hands in the air, dropping the paint brush to the floor. he slumped over to his huge, brick-surrounded window.

"i'm over this!" the woman yelped, flipping her bright scarf over her shoulder and clicking open the heavy french doors.

"thank god!" the complicated man praised, "you're like working with a cat! always in the way!" he watched the woman leave, her pastel dress glowing behind her.

zachary looked out to the large city, his eyes scanning over the premises. a blue figure caught his eye. lanky and gentle. dressed in a summer blue dress that cascaded down his body. chocolate hair ruffled atop his head, swishing as he twirled around.

zachary's eyes glistened. he had never seen such beauty. the boy flittered down onto a cushioned window sill. an old, torn book rest in his hands, open to dusty pages.

an idea struck zach's mind, skittering around to find the right colors and a new canvas. he set his materials up by the window. he took in one more quick gaze at the beautiful boy. he watched his oceanic eyes move along with the words of his book. his legs propped up carefully, his back rested against a red brick wall.

zach ran his finger along his selection of brushes, picking a medium sized then turning to his color palette. he slowly pushed the blue paste to the clean tarpaulin. he carefully smoothed the paint, swirling and dotting.

the boy never moved, as if knowing he were being sculpted. soft hands flipped the pages, ruffled his dress, twirled his hair. zach moved quickly, afraid to loose his beauty in sight. paint covered his overalls and hands, switching colors and brushes now and then.

usually, it took nearly a hundred canvases to finish one painting. but it's like zach has looked at the boy his entire life, not once blinking or looking away. he already knew his features. he carefully dotted his freckles, swooped his eyelashes, carved his lips, as if he's touched them with his very own hands.

on his last stroke, zach was breathless. the boy made his heart beat hard, his emotions turn. he examined his work, strangely proud.

zach normally hated his paintings. but this one had his window beauty. he had yet to even know his name, but zachary was in love. he pressed his hands against the glass, resting his head to get any closer.

suddenly, blue met brown. the boy jumped back, but then smiled. zach smiled back. he waved. zach waved back.

the boy made a motion, telling zach he was giggling. disappointment rushed over him, noticing he couldn't hear it. the boy huffed onto the window, creating a fog circle. he lifted his hand, slowly drawing backwards letters.

i'm daniel.

zachary could hear his heart beat into his ears. he hesitantly blew a fog circle on his window, a bigger circle than daniel's.

zach. may i come over?

daniel smiled brightly, wiping off his hazy window. he nodded before jumping up and running into a different room.

this was it. zachary, the loan painter, was going to meet his window beauty. a boy he feel in love with in only a few hours. through his very own window.

—
sorry this is short, but soft zaniel is always great, amirite?

word count. | 602