For OliviaHay7, I really hope you will like it and again, so sorry for such a long wait :(
~Patrice's POV~
Spending my day off in a local gallery isn't exactly what I though I would be doing. But here I am and I have been standing in front of one specific and breathtaking picture for nearly... I check my watch to see how long I have been motionlessly standing here, hands tucked in the pockets of my jeans and sunglasses on top of my head, only to see I have been here for what appears to be fifteen minutes. Yet the artistic painting of the main building of Boston University keeps me frozen on spot. Being completely focused on the work of art in front of me, I don't realize I am not alone.
"Nice painting, isn't it?" a voice says behind me. I turn around and see petite girl in black knee-length dress and her long H/C hair is clipped into a high ponytail. I take a step aside, giving her more space to see the painting, but she refuses by shaking her head: "No, thanks, it's okay. I am sorry to interrupt you."
"Oh, it's no problem. Yes, it's a beautiful painting. I love the colors and the elegance the picture has been painted with."
"An artist yourself?"
"Na-ah. A hockey player. I like to enjoy art time to time, but I don't usually visit galleries. I don't have enough time."
"A hockey player? Yeah, you do look like someone who uses force on other people," she chuckles and I realize she is teasing me. I smile absent-mindedly and start observing the painting again.
"I am sorry, I was joking. I am Y/F/N or...as you will see Y/A/N."
Her artistic name sounds familiar and I look at the title of the picture. Boston University. Y/A/N 2016
"That's your work?"
"Yeah," she smiles shyly and nervously tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. A gesture I find really adorable.
"So, honestly, what do you think of it?"
"I still think it's an amazing work of art. Is this your only picture here?"
"Nope. I can show ya around if you would like. I mean, it's okay, if you don't want to..."
"I would love to. Will you also tell me what your inspiration was."
"I guess I will have to. Uh, I am sorry, I never caught your name."
"Patrice Bergeron. From..."
"Boston Bruins, I know," she chuckles and turns around. Without turning her head, she says over her shoulder: "Come on, we don't have all day."
Shortly, she stops in front of a painting, which is completely different than her previous one. It looks like it was made in extreme rage and without even a thought of sparing any color. She turns to me: "This one... what do you think it represents?"
"I can see...extreme rage in it? Am I correct?"
She claps her hands together: "Well done! I painted that when my best friend tried to steal my work and sell it as hers. I can get a bit weird over my work, but..."
"No, I completely understand. And is that painting also here?"
She blushes dark red and slowly nods: "But it's horrible, really. I painted it in my last year of Boston University College of Fine Arts. Yeah, what a shocker, Boston University."
"What's wrong with that?" I question, honestly surprised at her remark. She sighs and ruffles her hair, destroying her ponytail a bit: "I have been in Boston my entire life. Only now, few years after graduation, I actually get to travel... I wonder what my paintings would be like if I saw the world..."
"There is nothing wrong with that and I honestly think your paintings are amazing. Do you do portraits?"
She looks at me and I know I caught her off-guard. She stutters: "I haven't painted a portrait in a long time... I don't know. Why do you wanna know?"
