Paint me a Picture

I

He was the perfect model. God, how I wished I could use the warm tones of the leaves outside the cafe door as my palette whilst painting his skin. The way the strikingly soft hues would contrast his mocha skin was surreal. And his voice, damn, his voice was so rich I swear I would've preferred to drink him than my latte. I believe his name was Aaron. Aaron, the boy who came in everyday just to order a black coffee and admire my paintings. Something in me forced me to sit down next to him that September day and I think it was the best day of my life. 

"Hello," he smiled at me when he spoke and I couldn't quite meet his eyes; I counted his freckles instead.

"I'm Cody. I thought you looked lonely." To this day I couldn't tell you what color his eyes were.

Aaron paused for a moment and glanced up at the vase of daffodils hanging above the window next to us. "You drew these?" 

"Painted them, actually,'' Of course I had to be a smart ass while talking to the greatest man ever sculpted.

He laughed. That was the first time I made him laugh. The second was when Andrea was trying to get me to help her serve drinks and I ended up spilling tea all over her hair and back. It really must suck to be significantly shorter than your clumsy best friend.

The first time Aaron made me laugh was when he somehow convinced Andrea to bring down all of her hair products and taught him how to embrace his natural hair. He was just so confused and kept making puns about their names. It was cute and surprisingly enjoyable, despite how the only term I could actually define was "shrinkage"; That was only due to sharing a room with Andrea for the past seven months. 

I can't quite pinpoint all of the other times we made one another laugh chronologically after that, but it did feel like that number was steadily increasing by the minute. Aaron always came in around ten o'clock. He would ask when my next painting was to be hung and I'd shrug. "What should that painting be of?" I'd ask.

And every single time I would earn the same response: "I'm not sure. Just paint me a picture, and paint it red."  He was the reason why my signature became the same beautiful shade of maroon his overcoat was. All of paintings slowly became centered around him.

I painted more flowers because those were his favorite.

I painted more murals because he loved dragging me and my spray paints into the bitter cold.

I began using watercolor after he suggested it.

One day I even painted him, but I never let Aaron see that one. It took me an entire month of saving over a canvas and I still hated the end result. No matter what I did I was unable to capture the feelings I found buried within his skin. The portrait felt too dull for him. Part of me wanted to burn that picture, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead if getting rid of the painting I chucked it under my bed. That small rectangle of space was where my rejected pieces went to die. Andrea once asked me if she could find Narnia by crawling under there. Andrea was the best. She could make me laugh no matter what and I'm not even exaggerating; That girl could successfully crack a joke while committing homicide.

Andrea was the one who opened And a Swirl of Caramel in the middle of January. She dragged me into the family a month later, asking me to paint some pictures for the cafe and I ended up moving in less than a week later. We hired a couple of bitchy teen baristas with commitment issues but it's mostly just been us and that's more than okay. In short, I love Andrea and she could get me to do anything for her without any hesitation whatsoever. That was why it only made me happier when she encouraged my relationship with Aaron; even going so far as to call herself my "honorary wing woman". Man, I love her so fucking much. I can't even imagine going through life without that bushy haired five feet of dad jokes and snap-backs. If it wasn't for her I would probably still dress like a white dad in the summer. According to Aaron I made an adorable white dad, however, and that earned a few snorts from Andrea. Sometimes I missed the days of being fifteen and having no worries in life save for a couple of essays I had to write, but days like that of innocent giggling and warm cuddling as we watched a laptop screen grow dim made growing up worth it.

Hey guys, it's Levi! I hope you're enjoying this cute little piece so far! It's inspired by a series of dreams I had, actually, and feedback would be greatly appreciated. :) This story is not yet edited so please correct me when needed. See you in the next chapter!