⟨ status: complete ⟩
"They say artists are nothing but sad people, unaccepted by society of who they are. Masking themselves in 'personas' to fit in." She turned to him, placing her beloved paintbrush on the table with her face adorning a beautiful...
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She often wonders what is going on in his mind right now. The young man usually stares off into the distance, chin resting on the palm of his hand, a frown adorning pretty freckled face. Sometimes, she'd feel his stare lingering on her back —and when every time she could sneakily catch a glimpse of him, he'll have this silly but undeniably cute lovesick smile plastered upon his face.
"I wonder what's on that pretty mind of yours, Cielo." She whispered to his ear, embracing him from behind as he stared off to the lovely meadows.
Her voice and touch never fails to send shivers down his spine, it was electrifying, yet he couldn't help but let himself melt into it. He was the candle and she was his flame, ever so bright and beautiful.
"My mind is always filled with thoughts of you." He replied with a smile, his other hand wandered to find hers —rubbing knuckles affectionately.
"If you're thinking of me, then why do so with a frown etched upon your pretty face?" She leaned her head, resting her chin on his shoulders; curly locks of his tickling her cheeks as she as well, stared off to the distant meadow.
"I was just remembering how horrible my confession was, and how I didn't accept yours at first." And how I even made you cry, Camilo would also like to add, but decided not to. "I don't mind it, I find it quite unique —the stress was very worth it."
He, but a mere sketch of a pencil, unsure and lost. He knew he was art, he knew he was a piece of work, yet somehow he never felt like he was worth something to look at. She, his artist, his humble painter of crescent moon, paint did she —the most wonderful of colors; thus, he realized that life he previously lived was dull and barren. Opened his eyes he did.
"Have you had strange dreams ever so often?" The young man asked, eyes never leaving lovely meadow from acres away.
"Yeah, it's always about you and I. Different clothes,"
"Different places and different people."
She pulled away to look at him quizzically as he turned to look at her with a smile. Camilo was no fool —a fool in love, yes. But not a fool in a situation such as this, where similar yet different dreams kept appearing very often, it was hard to not get suspicious.
Funny how fate does things, not that he minds though. Just as long they find each other, fine by him.
"In my next life, I don't want to forget about you. I don't want to forget about this." He declared to her, pulling her into an embrace, squeezing her a little.
"I don't want to forget about you too. And even if I do, please make me remember."
"Yeah, I will."
He definitely will.
Off in the distance, one could see a mother and her son wearing binoculars spying on our favorite couple.
