Mistake

Blank

{A/N

This is a reaaaaalllly short chapter. It wasn't supposed to be but it turned out this way and I'm not gonna try to add more.

It'll be much longer chapters from here on out though, love you all}

Mitch ran the chipped, painted points of his nails across the fresh canvas, feeling it ripple under his touch as he thought about what he wanted to paint. His mind was about just as blank as his canvas, dry and uninspired but he was determined to find something.

The canvas was rather large, surely one of his bigger ones, so he needed some thing great to fill it up. He didn't want to give this one away like he did with his others, he wanted to keep this one for himself. He wouldn't turn this in for a project, no, he'd put this one on his wall. And he wants to make sure this one is great. He spends so much of his time painting, but he never keeps them. He usually turns them into his teacher, or sells them to profit just a little extra pocket cash. He never painted for himself like he wanted to, and now that his mind was so full he decided, to ease himself, he paint this one just for him. His own treat to calm himself down.

He set the blank canvas on the bed, shooing Wyatt away when he almost stepped a paw on it. The cat bolted off the bed and onto his desk where he perched himself on a few of Mitch's papers, watching as Mitch hopped around the room, collecting all his utensils until they were all in a pile on his blankets. He tugged out his large, light-wooded easel from the corner of his room, in which he placed the canvas.

For a while he just stared at it, thinking about anything. Anything to paint. He had the time, but now he was just looking for the inspiration. He needed something, and as he searched the far corners of his brain for it, his fingers mindlessly toyed with his locket, as he usually did when he was just pondering. It was a habit he could never break.

He sat there, fiddling with it before it finally hit him. The one thing that's so special to him, obviously. He chuckled tiredly at himself when he realized how long it took him to come up with it. It was almost comical how his sick brain could be so slow sometimes. Carefully, reaching behind his head, he undid the clasp that held the chain together and let the necklace fall into his palm, glimmering off the dim evening light, the sun setting gracefully through the blinds. The gold was rusted was certain places, years of wear and tear taking a toll on the metal but Mitch thought it was the most beautiful necklace he'd ever seen. He'd always thought that.

With nimble fingers he undid the locket, carefully pulling it apart to reveal the small picture hidden inside. It was worn at the edges, wrinkled in most places, turning light brown in splotches, but it was still the most amazing picture he'd ever laid eyes on.

It was him and Grammie. Her arms were wrapped around his small body as he sat on her lap, only the tiny age of five. His brown mop of hair flopped into his eyes, and his little black vest was coming undone in a few seams, but he was smiling a wide smile, his two front teeth missing. Grammie was sitting with a chipper grin, her smile lines prominent much like the rest of the wrinkles on her pale face. Her green eyes sparkled and her grey hair was pulled back in a sophisticated bun, like she was going somewhere fancy, although she was wearing jeans and a faded blue T-Shirt.

Mitch remembered that day so well, he remembered almost every detail.

"Grammie, why do we have to do this?" Mitch grumbled as Grammie tugged on his hand, leading him in front of a large camera setup, lights, a backdrop, the whole deal. He was bored and uninterested, but Grammie had promised ice cream, so he followed her willingly. They'd been walking around the town and window shopping for some time before Grammie brought him into a studio, filled with cameras and photographs hanging from almost every wall.