Heart | N.H.

twenty one - santa claus

Note: This chapter discusses depression.

One more stroke of black, just to make the line a little thicker--the blue was too light in that place, add a fleck of navy--rub peach underneath-- My thoughts were disjointed and fractured, but my focus was complete. I was doing the one thing I knew I could always turn to: painting.

Judging by the pout on his face, Niall clearly did not share my fascination with the process of art. Granted, he had an excuse for this, since he was just sitting there stiffly, and couldn't even see the face of the canvas.

"Miracle, can I move yet?"

"Wait... wait... Okay." I swirled my brush in the cup of water propped on the base of my easel, stepping back to survey my work. "Done."

Immediately, he leaped up, cracked his neck, and came to stand beside me. He let out a long whistle. "Holy shit. Those aren't my eyes."

"Yes they are."

He raised his hand towards the canvas. I promptly slapped it. "Don't touch. Paint's not dry."

He stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "Holy shit."

"You said that already. Eloquent."

Art was the one thing that didn't make me nervous to share. I had long ago come to the conclusion that something so precious, something that came from somewhere so hidden, couldn't be judged in any meaningful way. If someone thought your art was beautiful, so be it. If they didn't, so be it. The things your heart was knit from weren't wholly pure or perfect, so why should your art be regarded as such?

So yes, I had used a faint shade of violet to smudge under Niall's eyes in the painting, and his lashes weren't perfectly even, and the eyes were ever so slightly crinkled at the corners, like he was breaking out into a smile or a sneeze. You would have to have a real eye for painting to make it out, but they were there nonetheless. Flaws.

Transfixed, and obviously not noting flaws of any kind, Niall said, "You can make pretty much anything beautiful, Miracle. I refuse to believe that my eyes look like that."

I shrugged. "As long as you don't find it, um, like really creepy that I just painted your eyes."

He chuckled. "It could always be worse," he pointed out, giving me a suggestively sly smile.

"Yes, like I could paint the inside of your nostril," I agreed, nodding gravely.

He looked significantly less smug after that comment.

The two of us were in Leah's room, for two reasons. One, the window in her room had the prettiest view. Two, I needed to stop being afraid of my sister's ghost. 

As long as I didn't think too much about the second reason, I would be fine. At least, that was what I told myself.

"I've been obsessed with painting Christmas things lately," I commented, joining Niall as he sat down on the large trunk that held all my sister's old things. 

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Evergreens and strings of lights and garlands sparkling like shredded chains," I said in one breath. "Wreaths with holly and gingerbread with spice and mistletoe with berries for pearls. I love Christmas season."

Niall nodded. "People say it's overrated, but I love it too." He glanced out the window. "Can I ask you something without you calling me crazy?"

"Probably not," I replied.

He ignored that. "Why do we make such a big deal out of evergreens in the winter?"

I furrowed my brow, biting back my questions, waiting for him to explain.