gt oneshots

painting

He'd spent most of his time living in that house painting. Eden lived alone. So he painted people.
He sat down in front of a large canvas, studying it through narrowed eyes. This one had taken him months, and he still couldn't decide whether it was finished or if he wanted to add a little something more.
In its foreground was a dark forest, with bramble thickets and trees with fat trunks and large leafy canopies. The wide sky behind it shined in the evening light, casting everything beneath it in shimmering blues and golds. In the center was a wide black pond. The edge of the water was covered in glowing mushrooms, some tall and spindly and others short and stout. Fireflies blinked against the dark trees.
Eden was proud of it. He liked painting landscapes the best, and this one had a magical air to it that none of his other paintings had ever held before. If he stared at it long enough, he felt like he could step into it. Sink into the black pond. Brush his careful fingertips against the hanging leaves. Cup a firefly between his hands.
But it was still missing something. Eden just didn't know what.
So he leaned back in his chair, spun a coin across his desk, and thought. He didn't want to ruin the painting, or cover it with something he wouldn't be able to fix later.
After a long while of thinking, Eden decided to paint a boy. A small boy, crouched down beside the edge of the pond, reaching over the deep black water to catch a firefly in his outstretched hand.
He was careful with his brush. Light, delicate strokes. He didn't want to make the boy too big, or cover up too much of the foreground. He quite liked the glowing mushrooms.
By the time the sun had disappeared below the horizon, Eden had finished. And he loved it. A tiny boy, cast in the blue evening light, leaning over the pond to catch one of the little glowing insects in his cupped palms. Eden washed his brush and studied the painting for a little longer. He fell asleep at his desk.
Eden saw the boy in his dreams. He kept trying to reach out to him, but for some reason he just couldn't. Every time the small boy called out, Eden could hear it. He just couldn't move.
•••
Eden didn't know what time it was when he finally woke up. The dim sunlight streamed in through his blinds and cast long shadows over the painting. Eden rubbed his tired eyes, carefully running the tip of his finger over the edge of the painting. That's when he heard it.
"Hello!"
A bright, cheery voice, coming from somewhere in the room. A voice he'd heard before, one that he recognized. But it sounded small, and his mind was tired and foggy. He must've still been stuck in his dream.
Then he heard it again. "Hello?" The voice sounded confused this time, and Eden looked around the room with wide eyes until he finally caught sight of the source of the noise, standing at the foot of his desk.
Curly dark hair. Wide brown eyes. The boy from his painting was staring up at him. Except, he was only four inches tall.
Eden had to do a double take. He rubbed his tired eyes again and blinked, waiting for the vision to fade. But it didn't.
The boy just stared up at him in confusion. He waved his arms once, twice. Eden sank down to the floor on his hands and knees, reaching for him almost blindly, in a state of shock.
The tiny boy stumbled away from his approaching hand, staring up at him in confusion. Eden hesitated before pulling his hand back. Then he started to laugh.
The tiny boy was still staring up at him, still not fading. So his mother had been right, Eden thought. Living alone for so long, it had made him start to lose his mind.
"What's so funny?" The tiny boy asked, peering up at him with furrowed brows. Eden hesitated for a moment before reaching toward him again. He didn't pick him up, just brushed a careful finger across the tiny boy's arm.
"You're real," Eden breathed, watching the tiny boy's movement through wide eyes. The tiny boy nodded, tilting his head slightly.
"Of course I'm real," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "As real as you."
Eden laughed again, eyes lighting up. He hated to admit it, but it had been months since he'd heard another voice. Besides the one always bouncing around in his own head.
"Am I going crazy?" Eden whispered, reaching toward him again.
The tiny boy moved back again, holding his toothpick arms up in front of him like a shield. "If you are, I don't want you touching me."
Eden laughed softly and pulled his hand back again, before shifting to sit down cross-legged in front of him. The tiny boy followed his movements before copying him. He sat down on the floor and crossed his legs, peering up at Eden through curious little eyes.
"I painted you," Eden said, pointing up at the painting on his desk. The tiny boy looked up at the painting and smiled.
"It's a very nice painting."
Eden began to laugh again before carefully placing his hands down on either side of the tiny boy, who peered up at him with wide eyes.
"Can I pick you up?"
A pause. "I guess so."
Eden didn't quite know how to go about this. How many people had ever held a tiny living person in their hands before?
He scooped him up and the tiny boy settled in the dip between his palms with a small smile. He looked kind of nervous, but Eden felt better when the tiny boy grasped onto the tip of his thumb. Eden had to suppress a coo as his impossibly tiny hands wrapped around it.
"What's your name?" Eden asked eagerly.
The boy from his painting smiled. "I'm Callum."
Eden gently ran the tip of his finger across the little guy's head, watching with wide eyes as his hair shifted slightly under his soft touch. Callum leaned into his finger and closed his eyes.
It took Eden a moment to realize that Callum was asleep. Stifling another coo, he moved the small boy to hold against his chest and watched as he shifted closer to him in his sleep, grabbing onto fistfuls of his shirt.
"You can't be real," Eden whispered, holding back another laugh.
"I must be going insane."