Paintbrush

↬nineteen.

A/N: I do not take credit for any images above. They are simply added for visual purposes.

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  He stood in front of the painting, admiring it. The splash of colors was perfectly done, and the intensity of the painting was incredibly precise.

  It had been a while since he saw another work by P.B., and the painting looked fresh. He wondered if the anonymous artist had spent all night working on it.

  The familiar sound of a bell ringing interrupted his thoughts. He turned towards the drugstore, and saw her walking inside.

  With his hands in his pockets, he made his way to the store. She looked up at him when he entered, offering a smile.

  "Hey, Jack."

  "Hey. You're early, " he pointed out, and she nodded.

  "I was organizing the storage last night, and fell asleep here. I just took out the trash a minute ago, " she explained.

  He circled around the counter, and pulled her to him. She chucked when he gently kissed her forehead. "What's up with you?"

  "I don't know. I just missed you, " he said as he took her hands in his.

  "I missed you too, in the ten hours we were apart, " she smiled, but he didn't reply. Furrowing her eyebrows, she followed his gaze to their hands. "What is it, Jack?"

  He spoke quietly, confusion laced in his voice. "Your hands... They have paint on them."

She took in a sharp breath, and he looked up at her. She couldn't read any anger in his eyes; for that, she was relieved.

Before he could even ask, she said: "Yes, Jack. I'm P.B., always have been."

He was shocked.

Not because he believed she was incapable of creating such beauty, because she was the quintessence of beauty itself.

But because for the longest time, his heart was torn in two. He had fallen for the drugstore girl, yet some maddening part of him reached for the mysterious artist. It was strange, how he had feelings for someone he hadn't met.

Only now he understood. He had known her all along, and his heart was simply revealing the truth.

"Wow, " he whispered. She gave him a moment before squeezing his hands, smiling softly.

"I'm sorry for keeping this from you. I was just afraid that you would judge me, because I didn't know what kind of person you were back then. I should've told you a while ago. I'm sorry, Jack."

He searched her eyes, for anything that could change how he felt about her. But he knew nothing could. He squeezed her colorful hands back. "It's okay. I understand. You have the right, as an artist, to be anonymous. I don't blame you for anything."

"I'm glad, " she murmured. They were quiet for a minute, gazing at each other, as if seeing the other for the first time. In a new light.

She cleared her throat. "So, how do you like the ballerina painting? Took me a while."

  "I think it's beautiful. What inspires you to paint, Noelle?"

  "A lot of things, " she smiled, letting her mind run freely. "But my main inspiration right now is myself, because I'm discovering parts I've never known before."

  He pressed a kiss to her painted hands. "I adore all of them."

  The secret artist was found, along with her heart, and she had captured the soul of another.

  And now, in a truthful atmosphere, their souls intertwined to become one.

A/N: one more chapter before the epilogue! Who's excited?

  Thank you for reading; don't forget to comment and vote!