Not revised
The idea just came to me
Made this in like 10 min
Very little detail
There once was a boy who fell in love with a painter. In his paintings he saw the world, each emotion coated stroke speaking more words he could ever bring himself to speak. Each hue of color so vibrant he couldn't believe he had compared anything to the world beautiful before now. this small meek boy who had been lost within this world and drown out between waves found a haven in the mysterious artist. he gazed at the paintings for hours as they boomed over him, wondering what they're creator was like. We're they male or female? Young or old? Kind or cruel? Lost or content with how they had played out they're life. Did these paintings give them the same feeling, or did they construct them with their very own hands as a mere hobby. And so the boy began his search. His search of the artist whos signature was a mere line, unknown to the world. Hours he would stare into the screen, hoping, wishing to meet the one who gathered up his pieces. His admiration fueled his search, determined to calm the aching in his heart. But, his work came to no avail. This person remained a mystery, their anyonomyus paintings becoming more emotional and disastrouslyy beautiful as they appeared. They were lost, filled with grays and blacks of destruction and emptintess. It hurt looking at his painters paintings. And one day, the boy met another boy. A boy who would watch him from the sidelines, yet never speak. he would gaze at every other painting with the same eyes, yet never look at the ones that captured his mind. This game of hide and seek came to and end when the younger of the two finally approached and gazed up at the canvas above them. Silently the two of them stood, and as that was how it remained. The two of them shared this odd yet comforting space together, and it made the boys heart swell. Though he still was determined to identify this painter, his mind slowly drifted elsewhere. Small conversation with the younger filled his mind and soothed his body with warmth. Each time he gazed at the paintings, they seemed to be warmer. Softer colors of pinkish hues and delicate sunsets began appearing. They were happy ones, less chaotic and it threaded through his heart because that's how he felt too. This younger boy who admitted to his fondness with a smile to his cheeks gave him the same feeling these lost paintings did. But he was conflicted. What about the painter. He couldn't leave them behind. He needed them. They were his haven, his spark in this pitiful world of darkness. How could he simply leave them behind to follow this beautiful, vibrant boy that made his heart thump with more emotions he ever recalled he could feel. But he needed it. His painter was nowhere to be found. His painter had shown him what love should be, what colors look like and that things are worth living for. His painter was the one that braced him for the fall only to give him what he had been preparing for. It was time to go. Hands interlocked, small and uneven he brought the younger boy to look at one of his painters paintings one last time. This one was sad. It was lovely and happy and filled with so much color and emotion his heart swelled and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. He never knew his painter. If only he could know his painter.
"Can i ask you a question?" The younger asked with fond eyes.
"Hm?"
"I've always wondered," The boy stated blushing, his hand reaching up at the colorful sight.
"What do you see when you look at these?"
"My world" The boy answered with a smile. His painter had painted his world.
"Oh, i see. "
"Why do you ask?" The boy asked, curious of his lovers sudden question.
"It's just-" he said, stopping himself in the middle of the sentence before looking back up at the sight.
"I can never see anything."
