YOU [Tonick] H.H. #1

21.

Rotating the brush handle between his fingertips, Tony plunged the small broom from the tip into the open watercolor jar, dyeing the threads of the paint pen a soft orange color before guiding it to scribble the photographic sheet he had retrieved from his brother's belongings. He had cut a piece of paper out of it, to standards thick and bearable enough to balance the way the temperas were casting, and transformed it into a letter figure so that he could fully straighten up on the position he wanted.

The liquid from the watercolor adhered to the matte sheet, curving to shape the outcome of its use while the water footprint left fresh paths behind it as it traveled. He was inspired, when it happened naturally, the emotions pushed him to drain the battery of his creativity in improvised dances that he invented instantly when listening to the passage of some melody, singing in his ears. At least that way he could free himself from the stress the day brought him.

But this time it was different.

Noting the gloom that was shadowed in the painting by applying a harsh reddish color to the top, he complemented what his imagination wanted to project in real life from the beginning. He had worked hard to win a beautiful result, step by step, fighting an internal battle against his own doubts to close a deal on choosing the perfect letter font for his drawing and embellishing the details on purpose not to keep it simple. It took him hours because he was not a professional with crafts, and the sheets left inside the basket corroborated that accusation.

After his job was done, giving him the go-ahead and convincing himself that the performance exceeded his expectations, he cut two strips of duct tape and taped them to the top corners of the piece of paper. The horizontal figure was removed from the desk to be attached next to the fabric of what were apparently the spun palms of an adorable knitted bear that he had bought in a toy store in a shopping center located outside the university.

The animal was made by hand, inhabiting a muted brown tone that identified its fur and, additionally, a red scarf wrapped around its neck. He appreciated for a moment those black pearls that were spaced between the places of its eyes, the different colors that covered the loose details of the toy returned the greeting, and then there was the sweetness that it radiated just by connecting with a glance.

It was perfect...

For the only person who loved plush bears.

At the end of the day, he ended up following the advice of his older brother. He would understand those beats that enslaved his heart, thus he would learn to unhook himself from the knot that tied him with his pride, which prevented him from continuing in his search for acceptance. For that, he would first put together a special gift for his Teddy Bear. He wanted to make sure beforehand that what he felt for his best friend truly was a risk, worth exposing himself for.

And it is ironic, sarcastic that after accidentally rejecting those same feelings, delayed times, the universe would conspire against him and return to him, with a hammer, everything he had caused from the beginning. He was an incredulous, innocent, confident not to fall into the abyss. Thinking throughout his life that he would always be an unscrupulous Casanova, satisfying himself based on sexual outbursts with different pretty girls he met throughout his life, living his adolescence to the maximum pride.

And all for what? So that his heart would crawl towards the light that the blindness built by the blindfold that covered his eyes.

There was little, very little time, for his feelings to write a name and give their souls. He just had to examine that all the preparations were square, from the handling of his nerve control to the right moment for the delivery of the gift. He was a restless haze of nerves as he ended the little things of his surprise; he wanted everything to be perfect because after all, it was the course of his life that would change. He would drop the bomb to explode and the ravages would spread, he just hoped he was buried under the rubble of the right building.