Shelly PoV
I followed Damien, curious to see what his favorite piece was. We came to a stop in front of a painting of what looked to be a cat in the rain.
"Here it is," he said.
"Really?" I said, tilting my head. "The cat in the rain one?"
He laughed. "What? It's cute! And it's got a nice message. The cat is wet and cold, but it's still happy because it knows that the sun will come out tomorrow. It's a symbol of resilience."
I narrowed my eyes at its mouth. Was it smiling or just yawning?
"How can you tell it's a smile?" I asked. "Or is that just your headcanon?"
Damien chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. "I guess it's a bit of both. It could be a yawn or a smile. Who knows?"
I nodded, still staring at the cat. "I guess. It is cute, though."
Damien grinned and started to walk away. "I'm glad you think so. Yours truly painted it."
I gasped. "Seriously? You're kidding!"
"Nope," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I painted it when I was a kid. It's one of the few paintings of mine on display here."
I stared back at the cat. It did have that childish charm, but it also had a certain sophistication to it. Damien was definitely talented.
"Wow," I said. "I didn't know you were an artist."
He shrugged. "I'm not that good. Just a hobby of mine. But it's fun. It's relaxing."
I nodded, understanding completely. "I get that. I used to draw a lot, but I haven't had time lately."
He leaned forward. "I can take you to my studio sometime, if you want."
I blinked. "Your studio?"
"Yep! My private place where I paint. I've got a bunch of canvases and paints and stuff."
I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should accept his offer. It was a bit strange, going to his studio. Some artists valued their studios like treasures, the kind one kept from the eyes of strangers. But I did miss painting, and it would be nice to have a space to do it again. Plus, he was offering. And it's not like we'd be all alone. Toren would be with us, too. He loved art as much as I did.
I finally nodded and smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."
He grinned and started to lead me to the next exhibit. "Great! I can't wait to show you. I've got some really cool pieces there."
I hummed as I followed him. "So, where did you learn to paint?"
"From my dad," he said. "He was a painter, too. He taught me everything he knew before he died."
Right, he told me he was orphaned. Poor guy. I could relate to that.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I know how hard that can be. Losing a parent."
Damien nodded, his eyes filled with sadness. "Thanks. It was tough, but I'm doing better now. I still miss him, though."
"I understand," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I still miss both of mine, too."
He smiled at me, a genuine, warm smile. "I know, I can see it in your eyes. You've got the same look I do."
I smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's nice to talk to someone who gets it."
Damien nodded, his eyes brightening again. "Agreed. But enough sad talk! Let's go see the next exhibit."
I laughed and followed him, enjoying his company. He was a little weird, sure. But he was also fun and interesting.
As we walked around the museum, I noticed Damien eyeing some of the newer pieces. His eyes were intense and focused, like he was studying them. I wondered what he was thinking.
"What are you thinking?" I asked, curious to hear his thoughts.
He looked at me and shrugged. "I'm just admiring the art. Trying to figure out the artist's intent with each stroke. Some here look like they were slip ups."
I raised an eyebrow. "Slip ups?"
"Yeah. This painting here looks like the artist was trying to cover up a mistake. Like they didn't plan it out properly. It's not a bad thing. If anything, it's kinda refreshing. Sometimes it's better to make mistakes and fix them than to try to be perfect all the time."
I looked back at the painting, looking for where the mistake was. "I see. I guess that makes sense. But what if it ruins the whole piece?"
He shrugged. "Then you learn from it and do better next time. But I don't think this painting is ruined. I think it's actually better because of the mistakes."
I sighed. "To me, it looks like a masterpiece. Are you really telling the truth or trying to trick me?"
He laughed and put his hands up defensively. "I'm being serious. Look at it closely. You'll see."
I narrowed my eyes and looked at the painting again, trying to see what he was talking about. And, after a while, I did see it. The brushstrokes were a bit uneven, the colors a bit off. The artist did a good job at covering it up, but it was still there. But Damien was right. It didn't ruin the painting. If anything, it added character.
"I see it," I said, nodding. "It's not bad. It's kinda charming, actually."
Damien smirked. "See? I told you. Sometimes it's the imperfections that make something beautiful."
I nodded, smiling. Like Toren. He had a lot of issues and problems. But he was still beautiful with the biggest heart I've ever seen. Even if he was a handful at times, I wouldn't trade him for anything. I loved him just the way he was. I loved all his little quirks, his oddities, his flaws. I loved him for everything he was. That's why I wanted to give him the best life possible. I wanted to see him grow and prosper. He might've been a little kid now, but something told me he would be a great person one day. A light like that shouldn't be snuffed out by wicked people or lack of resources.