You're astounded by the look of sheer concentration on his face. He's determined to finish it, because once he starts, he just can't find it in himself to stop. You learned that a long time ago.
His touches started off delicate, the pressure light and tentative, but as he progresses, as he starts to get more into it, he presses harder and becomes more confident.
His eyes glance up to meet yours, and you still see the burning passion in his eyes long after he lowers them.
You watch as his eyes crinkle at the edges and his lips part slightly. He's fighting for perfection, and you don't have any thought of stopping him. He's almost stubborn, actually. He won't finish until he's truly finished, and he's made that clear.
It's almost unreal. He's never shown any sign of having this kind of skill. Or perhaps you haven't been studying him enough. He looks at you again, and you wonder if he's studied you enough to figure out all your secrets.
Has he ever done this for anyone else, or are you his first? Are you the first to know his secret? Are you the last? Does it mean as much to him as it means to you? There are so many questions that you want answering, but you'll keep them to yourself. You always keep them to yourself.
Does that make you foolish? You can't say for sure.
His movements are tentative again. His hands move slower, skimming lightly over places he forgot. It will stop soon, and you feel a slight wave of sadness wash over you. You don't want this to end. It's been a magical moment, almost surreal. You haven't experienced anything like this before. You don't know if you ever will again.
You heart drops as he sets down the pencil and glances over his work one last time, before he silently hands it to you.
Your eyes skim over every detail, and after a few moments you smile at him.
You set the portrait down carefully on your bedside table, feeling bittersweet.
Will this portrait be the closest you will ever get to being focused on so heavily by Pete Kowalski?
You sigh sadly.
Another unanswered question added to the list.
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A/N: I like this one, for reasons I'm not too sure about. I'm usually a fluffy kind of writer. I don't like angst. But I suppose this doesn't really count as angst, does it? It's more of a…sweet sadness. Not 'drowning in depression'.
Bully belongs to Rockstar ©.