Remembering You [Folive]

8| from friends to enemies

EIGHT

     On a Saturday morning when the sun just began to shine and the birds had awaken, Fletcher snuck out of the balcony with a giant canvas and an array of paints. He set up his easel against the railing with a stool in front of the canvas. Fletcher was immensely talented in all art forms, but he found that painting did the best at clearing his mind.

For the last few weeks, Fletcher had been painting memories of him and Olive as he dealt with her amnesia. The first one he did was a picture they took together when Chyna was performing with Trifecta. He'd pulled the selfie up from his Instagram that he posted six years ago and he captured the image flawlessly with just paints. Now he started to paint the selfie Chyna, Fletcher and Olive took on their first day at Z Tech; it was one of Fletcher's favorite photos on his phone.

He'd mixed his paints and started painting Olive's blue eyes and nose on the canvas. He only got that far when the balcony's siding glass door slid open behind him. Fletcher spun around to see Olive standing in the doorway in her pajamas. The bright morning sun shone on her face, making it glow. She looked like an angel in Fletcher's eyes—she was an angel. Her the top of her blonde hair was so bright, her it almost looked white.

Olive had such innocence in deep blue eyes it took Fletcher back to when he'd fallen for when they were fourteen—the first time he really looked in to her eyes. When she was sulking over her break up with Dixon, Fletcher came over to console her. They shared a tender heartfelt moment that they hadn't had since they were eleven. He told her that he was always here for her, which was true, even though for last few years it didn't seem like he was.

"Can I sit out here?" asked Olive, squinting her eyes and using her hand as a shield for the sun.

"Of course." Fletcher smiled.

Olive dragged over a chair and propped it at an angle so she could have a proper view of the easel, then she sat down. "Can I watch you paint? If you don't mind?"

Fletcher dipped his paint brush on the paint pallet. "Go ahead," he replied with a grin. "But I'm going to warn you now, it may be boring."

"What could be more boring than my life right now?"

Fletcher twisted his neck to look over his shoulder. "Alight, then Ill make this the most entertaining painting session ever."

Olive laughed. "We'll see..."

Fletcher chuckled, facing the easel. He dabbed his brush in the flesh tone color he'd mixed up and began shading in Olive's nose like the picture on his phone.

"What are you painting anyway?" wondered Olive; she leaned forward in the chair for a better view.

Fletcher panicked, knowing that if she saw herself in the painting with him and Chyna, it'd give her a load of confusion. "Just a picture of three friends," he told her.

Olive nodded, then she watched him for about fifteen minutes. She wasn't bored—she was fascinated. "Could you show me?" Olive asked. "How to paint?"

Fletcher happily agreed, giving a fresh new canvas for Olive to use. He switched out his painting for a blank canvas and gave her a clean brush. He knew this would be a perfect time for them to bond like they used to and hopefully it get her remembering him. Olive stood in front of the easel with a paint brush, staring at the blank canvas.