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He pulled back to rest his chin on my shoulder, his intense gaze still admiring my piece.
"This is good, Willow," he finally announced after another minute of staring. "Your stroke technique is fine in execution, which is good. Allows more details and heightens the layer of color. Your sketching time was just as swift and the overall image is really well done."
"What are the negatives?" I asked.
"Don't slouch," he concluded as he lightly ran his hand down my spine, the touch forcing me to arch back, which clearly corrected my posture. "Bad for you long term."
"You have to have more criticism than that," I whined and moved my face slightly to my right side as he purposely leaned back just to meet my questioning gaze.
"Like?"
"Saying it's ugly?"
"It's not though."
"You can't tell me this isn't ugly!"
"It's not ugly," he repeated. "Unless you're trying to imply I'm ugly."
'You're not ugly," I groaned.
"I know," he replied and kissed me before I could argue. "Neither is this painting, Willow."
I knew from his calm demeanor that he was actually being serious with me, but I couldn't accept that my art was up to his standards.
"Want to see my first drawing?"
"Okay," I quietly replied and watched him rise up and walk over to the other side of the private marble aesthetic studio. He opened a cabinet and went through a few books before retrieving a tiny notebook.
He returned and pulled up a chair to sit next to me and offered me the little spiral-bound book. I accepted it, catching on to the tainted scent, but it didn't stop me from opening it up to view the stick figures with names above their heads.
Mama. Papa. Uncle. Auntie. Emma. Diesel.
That was all that was drawn in the crumbling, lined book. Even with the faded pages and the light brown, dark brown, and slightly faded red coloring, I knew these weren't drawn with paint.
Blood.
"Those were my first drawings in a psych ward," he admitted. "Mandatory, really. It was stupid because I was blind and recovering, but I guess due to the injuries I suffered on my arms and hands, they were worried I'd lose function in them. It's not like America where they have all the tools and equipment to aid you in your recovery based on body parts."
"You drew it with their blood?" I quietly asked.
"Mhmm," he replied, his gaze on the crumpled sheets. "I'd been awake after the accident that blinded me. I wasn't good at my blood ability just yet but was strong enough to extract a bit from each of them. My memories are pretty much faded from the incident, and I don't really remember the details of what happened when I lost consciousness, but I remember when they told me to draw who was with me. That's what I did but I used the blood of each of them. I guess whoever was assigned to me knew who I was, or else we wouldn't have gotten such amazing health treatment. I kept the book just because, but I didn't draw again until I joined the Forbidden," he confessed.
"Why?" I asked.
"I was scared of what I'd draw...maybe I was frightened of what I'd do," he confessed. "It was actually Dimitris who managed to take my paintings to the next level. I feared my drawings would project just how much I hated the world...and the imperfections in my work wouldn't emphasize the value I was trying to project."
"Value," I whispered.
"Compared to others, I have a purpose with every painting I create. There's a meaning to it, one that is as visible as the moon against the midnight sky or hidden between the thick and fine strokes of my masterpiece. There are hidden symbols, messages, and even warnings in my pieces, but what is most important to me is projecting the raw beauty and value of each creation. Every single one has a story behind their creation, and as my talent has grown and expanded, the world has become willing to acknowledge the uniqueness in my work."
"Do you keep this to remember your roots?" I inquired.
"No," he replied as he retrieved the book and stood up. "I keep it so that whenever I doubt my ability to create, I can look at it and remember where I started."
He turned around and whispered, "Tragedy was what made me who I am today. My path of destruction and pain led me to Dimitris. Joining him led to finding Saint and Jayce, and I began to expand my art in the realms of pleasure and torture. I began to see more value in everything I did, and when I thought I couldn't witness something more valuable than the grasp of life, a certain individual spared mine in the forest."
I blushed at his words as he looked over his shoulder to give me a loving smile.
