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A blush crept up my cheeks, humbled by his appreciation for my work. "I wanted it to be special, just like that day was for us."
Seth nodded, his eyes fixed on the vibrant colors that seemed to leap off the canvas. "The colors you chose convey a lot of emotion," he whispered. "The deep blue of the background represents strength and stability. The warm shades of orange and gold symbolize the love and warmth we bring into each other's lives.”
Each brush stroke captured a moment we shared - some funny, some sad, but all important to me. The colors I used reflected how well we complement each other and how we always manage to lift each other up.
Seth touched the painting softly, almost like he felt our bond emanating from the canvas. "Check this out," he says, pointing to a section near the bottom of the portrait. "The green and purple colors blend perfectly, showing how we've grown. It represents how we've had each other's back through all life's ups and downs. It's pretty amazing," he continued with a smile.
Seth slowly turned towards me, his eyes were filled with tears, and his voice was shaky. "This painting means more than you know. You paint the world the way you see it. I'll always keep it close to my heart."
A single tear slipped down my cheek as I wrapped my arms around him. "And I'll always keep you close to my heart, Seth," I whispered.
My gift had succeeded in keeping our shared experience alive, forever captured in the strokes of a brush. Seth's expression of awe and gratitude made all my hard work worth it.
"Hey."
The voice that can undo the stitches sits beside me brings me back to the present. I close my eyes, holding back the sob fighting to escape from my chest.
He abandoned me when I needed him the most.
One of his massive hands wraps around my hands, interlacing his fingers with mine. I don't push him away. I should, but I don't. The warm sensation shoots through my body, making me want to jump into his arms, begging him to love me and take the pain away, but reality sets in when my half-sister's voice breaks the slight relief. I yank my hand away from Ricky, keeping my eyes closed.
"Hey, Scar." Skylar's voice sounds torn and fragile.
So. Fucking. Fake.
I regret it immediately when my eyes snap open, staring at my so-called family member with tears running down her face. She acts like Seth was everything to her when she treated him like he was nothing and only acknowledged him when it was convenient forher.
"Scar? Aren't you going to say anything to me?" She sniffles.
I glance away, ignoring her presence.
I wantherto go away.
"Scar?"
One…
"Seriously?"
Two…
"Skylar, stop. Leave her alone," Maverick says quietly, standing beside my sister.
"No. I want her to acknowledge me."
Three…
"Let's just go," he pushes.
"No."
Really? Does Skylar think she has the right to be pissed atme?
Four…
"You think you're the only one hurting, Scar? He was my brother, too. I loved him." Sniffle.
Yep. That did it.
