Artistic Lover

The day of the art exhibit arrived faster than Ethan had anticipated. The school gymnasium had been transformed into a gallery, with partitions and easels displaying the students' artwork. The air buzzed with excitement as students, teachers, and families wandered through the space, admiring the pieces.

Ethan stood near the entrance, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets as he scanned the room. His heart pounded in his chest, and the familiar urge to bolt coursed through him. But then he spotted Claire by one of the partitions, setting up the final pieces for display.

She caught his eye and waved him over, her smile as warm and welcoming as ever.

"You made it!" Claire said, stepping aside to reveal the space she'd reserved for Ethan's work.

Three of his sketches hung neatly on the wall, each framed with care. There was the boy on the hill, the dragon curled protectively around its hoard, and, at the center, a portrait of Luna sitting in a field of stars.

"They look incredible," Claire said, her voice full of admiration. "I told you people would love them."

Ethan swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I don't know about that."

Claire nudged him playfully. "Trust me. Just wait until people see them."

---

As the exhibit opened, Ethan lingered near the back of the room, his anxiety rising with every passing minute. He watched as groups of people stopped in front of his sketches, their faces lighting up with interest.

"That's so detailed," one woman said, leaning closer to the dragon.

"It's like something out of a storybook," another person added, pointing to the boy on the hill.

Ethan's chest tightened. He didn't know if the compliments were real or just polite, but hearing them felt surreal.

Claire appeared beside him, a cup of punch in her hand. "See? I told you people would love your work."

Ethan shook his head, still unsure. "They're just being nice."

Claire frowned, setting the cup down. "No, they're not. Look at them, Ethan. They're not just looking at your art—they're feeling something. That's what makes it special."

Ethan glanced back at the crowd. She was right. The way people lingered, their eyes tracing the details, wasn't just polite interest. They were engaged.

"You did this," Claire said softly, her voice full of encouragement. "You put yourself out there, and it's making a difference."

For the first time, Ethan felt a flicker of pride.

---

Later in the evening, as the crowd thinned, Ethan found himself standing in front of the portrait of Luna. It was the most personal piece he'd ever created, and seeing it displayed for others to see felt like baring his soul.

"Do you miss her?"

Ethan turned to see Claire standing beside him, her expression thoughtful.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat.

Claire gestured to the portrait. "The girl in your drawing. She seems... important to you."

Ethan hesitated, unsure how to explain. "She's... someone who helped me a lot," he said finally. "She reminded me that I could be more than I thought I could."

Claire smiled softly. "Sounds like she meant a lot to you."

Ethan nodded, his chest tightening. "She still does."

There was a pause, and then Claire said, "I'm glad you had someone like that. But I think you've got a lot of people who'd like to get to know you now."

Ethan looked at her, his heart warming at the kindness in her tone.

"You're one of those people, aren't you?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Claire laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "Maybe I am."

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the sounds of the exhibit fading into the background.

---

That night, Ethan returned home feeling lighter than he had in years. As he entered his room, he half-expected to see Luna sitting on the bed, her usual smile waiting for him.

But the room was empty.

Ethan set his sketchbook on the desk and sat down, staring at the space where she used to sit.

"I did it," he said softly, his voice filling the quiet.

There was no response, but he felt her presence all the same, like a warm breeze brushing against his thoughts.

Ethan opened his sketchbook to a blank page and began to draw, the pencil gliding effortlessly across the paper. He didn't need to think about what to create—the image came naturally.

It was Luna, her gaze bright and full of pride, standing beside Claire, who held one of his sketches in her hands.

Ethan smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Thank you," he whispered.

And for the first time, he felt like he could truly move forward.

---

To Be Continued..