"Bella, I think it's...great…abstract art?" he tells me, looking at my painting with confusion on his face. He smiles awkwardly, trying to mask his emotions.
"Feli, you really don't have to lie to me."
"But―"
"No, really."
He sighs, defeated. I look away (it's not my fault I'm bad at art, and it's not his fault, either; I'm just not good and that's the end of it, no one to blame or point fingers to).
"Well, bella, do you want to get better?"
My attention is back to him, and I raise a brow. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.
(Do I want to? I didn't know if this was my passion at all; it was just something that I wanted to try. I don't know what I'm passionate about yet―what am I supposed to feel when I do it? Should I feel it click? Should I wait? Should I try to get better first?)
When I don't give him an answer, he sits on the tall stool near his painting, and motions me to sit next to him, and so I did.
"You know, I wasn't really great at it at first, too," he begins while looking at his painting, a sort of reminiscent look in his eyes. "I didn't know how to paint people other than as sticks. And I used really weird color combinations, too!" Feliciano almost laughs at the memory.
"But I grew to love it. I didn't want to settle for just what was okay; I wanted to be good at it. I guess it's that―uh, how do you say ―determination that got me here!" He turns to me. "I think it's really just a matter of passion, and maybe you don't know if it's your passion yet. But, bella, it isn't bad to try and see if it's for you, sì?"
I nod at him, my lips slowly curving into a smile. "Thanks, Feli." He kisses my forehead, and when he pulls back, a sincere smile is on his face.
I reach for my paintbrush.
"Guess I'll just have to find out."