Mind focused on the last portions of his artwork, he offered the usual placeholder in response at first, Mmm. Nikolai still wasn’t ready for this to be over. Very rarely did his art ever do what he wanted, though. The final branch climbed up Ferran’s back and wound into a loose spiral around the curve of his shoulder. The asymmetry appealed to Nikolai. Even so, he would rather spend the next few minutes hunched over his friend’s right arm and extend matching lines down to his fingers. But his artistic vision didn’t allow it. Instead, he only added the last few leaves to the vine nestled against Ferran’s shoulder. He cocked his head, eyes narrowed in thought, grasping for the final piece.
His brush plopped into the cup of water at his side as he discarded it in favor of the thinnest brush in his collection. Mixing a bright red with a few other shades, he was left with a deep maroon blob on his palette, which he dragged his paintbrush through before leaning over Ferran. Nikolai shifted, holding himself steady above the other man, fingertips now resting firmly next to the outline of the branch on his shoulder. His hand moved in a series of quick motions, a delicate flower unfurling beneath the tip of his brush. Small heart-shaped petals blossomed at the end of the vine’s spiral, contrasting with the green that dominated the picture. Without thinking, he blew a light breath across the still-damp red paint.
I don’t know. What do you think? Contented as he was with the final product, Nikolai waited for his friend’s response before passing final judgment. His eyes scanned the complete painting as he projected the image to Ferran, attempting keep that faint longing that lingered in his mind out of his thoughts.