See Yourself Through My Eyes // lh & ai

Prologue

Luke watches him like he's the sun. Like he's the most precious diamond in the world that was just dug up from the dirt. He watches him with such intensity, like his soul is full of different emotions, and he just can't figure out which one he's feeling. He watches him with a light in his eyes; like the boy is the match and he himself is the candle, and the only way for him to burn is for the boy to light him up. He watches him like without him, he'll just be a candle left to be covered in dust on the shelf.

Unused.

Alone.

Worthless.

Luke watches the boy like if he takes his eyes off of him for a second, he'll wake up from the most lovely dream he's ever had. Like he'll be brought into a reality that is life without him.

If this is a dream, Luke never wants to wake up.

So he watches. He watches as the boy smiles at the world with excitement.

His pink lips spread into a beautiful grin, dimples adorning his cheeks in a way that has Luke seeing stars.

And Luke struggles to keep breathing, because oh; that boy is beautiful.

And the boy is oblivious. Oblivious that Luke is watching him. Oblivious that Luke even exists. Oblivious that by simply breathing, he takes the breath away from another human being.

 Luke.

The lovesick fool who watches the oblivious boy every day.

It shouldn't be so interesting. It shouldn't be so mesmerizing. It shouldn't be so captivating.

But it is.

It shouldn't interest Luke just to watch the hazel eyed boy paint.

But it does.

Luke doesn't know why. He doesn't know why his eyes light up like a star is expanding and bursting color into his iris. He doesn't know why he smiles so wide like his cheeks are playing tug-of-war and his lips are the ropes being tugged on. He doesn't know why the boy has this big of an affect on him,

But he does.

So Luke watches.

He watches as the boy sets up a tall easel, placing a white blank canvas on it that, soon, will be adorning the many different colors of a rainbow.

He watches as the boy dips his paintbrush into paint before bringing it to the smooth white surface, and creating something beautiful.

He watches as the boy studies the sunset occurring in front of him, his hazel eyes swimming over every detail and every color like the waves of an ocean carress the sand on the shore.

He watches as the boy looks back down at his canvas, paintbrush in hand, and creates a painting of a sunset that somehow seems more like paradise than the beautiful natural occurence in front of his own two eyes.

He watches. He watches, and watches, and watches.

But he doesn't grow tired of watching.
The extraordinary boy with hazel eyes who paints in the middle of this empty street is the most alluring human he has ever laid eyes on.

And watching him, the boy who paints, is something Luke is sure he'll never regret.