The Portrait That It Paints of You

The shaky hand holding the brush was neither fleet nor graceful, and there were frequent, hesitant pauses after every few strokes. The languid display of skill was nothing virtuosic or prodigious, but there was something that drew her in, something in the innocence of it—the unworldliness, the unsophistication, the normalcy.

Despite whatever shortcomings he might've had, the young painter—were they part of the same world, they would probably be of similar age—was nothing but committed. She had never seen such an artistic endeavor, so Unicorn stayed, watching enraptured as a picture gradually formed on the blank canvas even though it was obscured by the painter's back.

Perhaps that was why he wasn't aware of her—if he wasn't ignoring her. Even if it were indifference, that would mean he didn't mind her, and Unicorn was grateful for that. Maybe if she kept her distance instead of being intrusively inquisitive and asked so politely, she would be allowed to see the finished painting.

But when he eventually set the brush and palette aside, and she had inched closer, she suddenly found it immensely difficult to do that. While she was hesitating, the painter, whose gaze had been fixed on the canvas, turned around. He was as young as she imagined him to be—a teenager—with bushy hair and a rounded, somewhat pale face, a marked contrast with his paint-splotched clothing. The colors were the only thing artistic about him.

And there was something familiar about him, so familiar it had her mind racing.

Unicorn shifted awkwardly when their eyes met and when she noticed the creased brows. Her limbs felt cold, and she brought Uni closer to her face to hide her quivering lips.

The painter opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but instead, he took long and short breaths and looked away. Unicorn could see the bit of red on the side of his face as he did, easy to spot though it was faint. He had a hand pressed against his chest but hastily removed it.

"Um…I…I'm sorry for disturbing you, and—" Having finally gathered the courage to apologize after seeing the curious reaction, Unicorn spoke—only for him to scurry away, a palm covering his mouth. His hurried gait was ungainly, and he nearly fumbled more than once, but he eventually disappeared after one last look at her, leaving Unicorn questioning even more.

She felt a little disheartened that he left just like that and that she couldn't tell how he was feeling. While she wondered where he could have gone, she noticed that he also left his canvas behind.

She soon discovered the painting was unfinished but could recognize the scenery.

A dash of white, green, shades of blue, and an abundance of gray made up an almost precise depiction of the pier and the seas surrounding it, stretching far and wide.

Almost. The sky above was one of unclouded sunshine, and the waters below were still and tranquil. What she saw on the canvas was a forbidding seascape tainted with a furious storm and the gloom of an all-enveloping blanket of dark, shadowy clouds.

That utter disconnect between the real and the painted was revolting. Unicorn averted her gaze and never looked back as she walked away, thoughts churning like the roiling waters on the canvas. She never had so many questions lingering unanswered before and never so much concern.

***

Though she didn't really plan to go back there, Unicorn passed by the pier again the next day on her way to meet up with the others for tea; the painting, as she noticed from a distance, was still there. She paused and watched, almost breathless, as the painter approached the canvas and picked up his brush and palette.

But he didn't continue the painting; instead, he shook his head, took the canvas, and went. He was certainly not intending to continue it somewhere else because he left the easel behind.

Unicorn was unsure if she should pity the painting if it would be disposed of or the painter for his wasted effort—but knew she didn't have the time to mull over something that, truthfully, shouldn't concern her.

Yet she kept thinking about it as she continued on her way, even when she took a seat at one of the tables set up in the garden, almost mechanically.

"Is there something bothering you, dear?" Illustrious' kind voice was soothing as ever, but it was only a small comfort. Unicorn thought she had managed to hide the fact that she was upset with the biggest smile she had ever given for no particular reason, but Illustrious easily saw through it.

"Um, nothing, big sis Illustrious," she said, not without wondering if that answer would do any good and that Illustrious would be convinced. Her big sister had always been sharper than she let on.

"Oh, I know you well, Unicorn. Whenever you're troubled, you would always hold Uni very close to you, closer than usual. Like what you're doing now."

Unicorn looked down, finding out that was indeed the case, and realizing she could no longer talk her way out of this. But could she really tell Illustrious about it? It didn't feel like something that should warrant her attention.

"Uhh…you see…it's really nothing," Unicorn winced over the tingling ache she had. She had just lied, and to her big sister, no less. But Illustrious proved understanding.

"I see. Sometimes, you don't really have to tell anyone about your troubles. But don't keep them to yourself. So…come talk to me when you feel like it later if you don't feel like doing it now."

Unicorn felt a hand touching her cheeks. The gesture had an easy and straightforward and calming air about it—it was enviable.

"Mm. Thank you, big sister," Unicorn nodded. Perhaps she will never, but Illustrious will understand.

"Oh…the Commander is here," Illustrious remarked as she removed her hand, and Unicorn peered from behind her, catching a glimpse of the man and the maids welcoming him; nothing unusual—until the Commander beckoned someone that Unicorn didn't notice was trailing him.

It was him. That painter boy, looking unsure and almost petrified, merely looked on as the maids bowed at him, but he bowed back, nonetheless—though only after the Commander had seemingly spurred him to.

"The Commander is calling for us," Illustrious said—if she shared her surprise, Unicorn couldn't see it.

And she could understand now how the boy might have felt because she dreaded going there now and having to meet him after what had happened. But she had no choice. At least Illustrious supported her in her own way. She walked by her side, matching her painfully slow pace and holding her hand, giving her that much-needed encouragement.

"Oh, hello, Illustrious, Unicorn; I hope you don't mind one more guest," the Commander was all-smiles, Unicorn noted. The boy certainly had seen her because he had grown paler and, for a moment, stared intently at the gates. Eventually, though, their eyes met again. The gaze didn't hold long, and he looked down, breathing in heavily.

"He is my brother," the Commander laughed, patting the boy on the back.

"Your…brother?" Unicorn murmured, bewildered, dreading. She thought she knew her "big brother" well enough, but this was new. How come she never heard about it? That he had a sibling, an actual one? Was that the reason she found the boy so familiar back then?

 "Well, I'm not surprised you don't know because he just got here a few days ago. And he's…well….don't go out much," the Commander hastily added, and Unicorn could've sworn he was looking at her as he spoke. Perhaps he had noticed her confusion. Perhaps he was being considerate.

Whatever it was, he had a small smile as he followed them to the garden. The boy, the brother, trailed behind, walking in front of the maids, still looking like someone surrounded by a pack of wolves.

Soon, Unicorn found herself seated opposite the boy. For a time, she wondered if the arrangement was deliberate. The Commander and Illustrious immediately struck up a conversation with the ease and comfort one might expect of old friends. Unicorn envied their chatter and small laughs, but not because she was jealous.

The boy, much to her dismay, kept looking down as if the freshly mown grass below the table was the most fascinating thing on earth, all while she struggled with the feeling that she had done something wrong, somehow.

"Umm...I'm sorry if I...disturbed you the other day," in the end, she decided she should try to apologize. She waited as he stared at her for a moment—or did he just look at her for the first time?—then shook his head. It came and went too quickly, but he seemed to be attempting a smile.

He didn't answer, but Unicorn was relieved to get any reaction at all. Relieved and hopeful—that he didn't mind her presence, that he would say something. She hoped, at least.

She rarely took the initiative, but she thought she could now. Even she was surprised.

"Um...what's your name?"

Again, he froze. Again, he appeared to struggle. As Unicorn almost held her breath waiting, the Commander paused and looked their way, smiling, understanding.

Maybe he realized something, Unicorn thought. The Commander had always been astute. He was quick to grasp things about others.

"Let me introduce you to him, Unicorn. This is Arthur. Art, for short. Arthur, meet Unicorn. My 'little sister' of sorts."

There was a warmth nobody could deny when he spoke. Genuine, too, it seemed.

"I hope you two will get along," he added, giving the boy another pat on the back. He was gentle, and his brother, for the first time, smiled. Whether at the words or the gesture, Unicorn was unsure. But that didn't matter, even if the smile was not that noticeable.

"Hello, I'm Unicorn. Pleased to meet you."

She tried to mean it. It was only polite, she reasoned. But she wasn't sure how much she did because her heart was still unsettled.

Still, she smiled at him.

He looked back, wide-eyed and uncertain.

Then he returned it, wider than before.

It was as if it took everything he had to do, but he did it.

Unicorn wondered if he had realized he was smiling more now or if it was a result of the smile she gave him.

But he did it, and that was all that mattered.

"...Me...too," he managed. It was stiff, but Unicorn was alright with it, anyway. It was a start—and a good one at that.

And that also proved that she had not wronged him. It was all fine now.

Her smile was now as real as she wanted it to be.

She looked at Illustrious, who had been watching her with a knowing smile on her face and nodded.

And they spent the rest of the afternoon chatting as they usually did. Unicorn noticed Art wasn't exactly part of it, seemingly content with sitting quietly like a statue. But at least he seemed to be listening, even if it was a one-sided conversation, instead of looking on edge all the time.

He didn't react much to the Commander praising his hobby, painting, and telling everyone who would listen about it. He only smiled, and Unicorn took it as his valuing his brother's appreciation, even if he obviously didn't like attention.

Unicorn found herself wondering if they would meet again and looking forward to the next time they would.

That next time turned out to be the day after.

She came across Art at the pier again, though this time, he wasn't painting. Instead, he was looking out at the sea. His canvas stood on the easel, blank, untouched, pristine.

"Good afternoon," she greeted, walking toward him with a little less apprehension than she had the first time. There was no need to hide behind him now—and perhaps she could take a look at the painting if she could stand beside him.

Art turned around, seemingly not having noticed her before she spoke, and he smiled—a small one, but a genuine one, too.

"Oh, hello..."

"You're not going to continue your painting?" She inquired. As distressing as seeing it before might be to her, it still felt like a waste if he didn't continue it.

"...No. Not anymore. I...."

He averted his gaze and looked at the sea, where the sunlight fell from up high, turning the ocean into a field of glittering jewels. Not capturing it for posterity would be a shame. Yet he didn't

"...May I ask for a small favor? Just...stay for a while."

Unicorn blinked as she took in the words, ones that shattered her expectations to pieces.

"...If it's not...too much trouble," he added.

"No, no, not at all," Unicorn smiled. She couldn't refuse, and she didn't want to. She had been wondering about why he was here, so perhaps he would show her.

"Thank you..."

He didn't bring his brush or his oils when he walked to the canvas. Instead, he took out a charcoal stick from his pockets. He had a small sketchbook tucked under his arm, which he placed on top of the canvas. He flipped through the pages until he stopped at one.

When he began to work, he seemed like a different person than before. His movements were smoother, surer. His eyes were sharper. The hands that held the stick were steady.

She couldn't see the picture for now. She didn't dread it.

Soon, he put the sketchbook down and had his palm up, a silent plea for her to come closer.

Unicorn approached him, unsure but curious, and stood beside him.

There, she saw what he wanted her to see.

Herself.

She saw herself, drawn in strokes of black and white, beaming as she looked back, hair dancing along the wind currents, strands of the locks brushing against her cheeks. It wasn't exactly a mirror image, and Unicorn was certain the real her never looked so captivating.

But without a doubt, that was her. For the first time in her life, she had her likeness drawn, and so beautifully, even. Did she even deserve it?

But she didn't get to ask that or anything else. When she looked away from the picture, he had disappeared. He must have run away again, but she was alright with that. She knew he would be back again.

She hoped.

***

But he didn't return the next day, and the day after that—and Unicorn was beginning to feel troubled. That the Commander suddenly called her to his office only added to the growing unease she felt.

Why was she called? She had been good, her conduct spotless. She had been dutiful, working diligently, making sure she wouldn't make any mistakes. She had been helpful.

The first thing she noticed as she entered the office was that the Commander seemed worried instead of angry.

He didn't speak immediately and was staring at the open window. It was almost too difficult to ask him what was wrong.

"I...is there something wrong, big brother?" She did it anyway. She had no choice. She needed to know.

"I see you're concerned," he smiled. "...Maybe you had already figured out that I'm calling you here because of my brother."

Unicorn nodded. So she was right. He wasn't angry with her—it was about his brother. The Commander made her sit on the couch while he himself took a seat at the chair across it.

"...I know I shouldn't tell you after what he had told me, but...I can't think of anything else. I was wondering if you had seen him lately."

"He..." Unicorn froze, not knowing how to respond. But she decided to tell him everything, that he had been at the pier and how she had seen him paint. And he had shown her the picture he made of her.

The Commander listened without a word and a smile. She expected him to be surprised, maybe even ask for details. But he didn't

"I see. He probably ran away after showing it to you, right?" He asked when Unicorn had finished with her story, and she nodded.

"Do you know why he painted it like that, Unicorn?"

"Eh...?"

"The scenery. One that didn't match reality."

Unicorn pondered the question. What was the reason behind the painting? She couldn't answer, even if it had been bothering her for days now.

"...I don't know," she admitted.

"...He's always like that. Trying to get things out of his mind, his heart through his artworks."

And Unicorn realized now.

He was never one to paint a scenery. Things that he saw. They were never his muse. His feelings were.

And that was why he had done the painting she had seen.

And the fact that he had drawn her must've meant that—

"You've always been on his mind. And he thought...it's wrong. His drawing of you...was his attempt to get you out of his mind. But he couldn't. He told me that much."

"...I...understand," Unicorn whispered. Now, it all made more sense—the reason he scurried away from her in their first meeting and clutched his chest like it was threatening to jump out.

He had fallen for her at first sight and, for whatever reason, felt it was shameful.

And he ran away from his feelings.

But why her, of all people? She couldn't fathom it. And without realizing it, she voiced that question out loud.

"...Because you're you. That's all," the Commander answered. "And that's enough for him."

"...and what should I do....?" She hated being helpless, but she really didn't know.

"I would like you to help him. I don't mean you need to reciprocate his feelings, Unicorn. Just...talk to him. Tell him it's not wrong or shameful."

"But...couldn't you, big brother?"

"I could, and I know he would always listen—but it's not my place. It has to be you. That will mean a lot to him."

"...I'll do my best," Unicorn said. She was scared of failure and that it would jeopardize what little relationship she had with him—but she didn't want to refuse either.

"Please."

That was the first time the Commander had ever pleaded. And it was for his brother. He cared deeply for him, as a brother should.

"I won't let you down," Unicorn promised.

The Commander smiled and patted her head, as he usually did when she was troubled.

"I know you won't."

***

"May I come in?"

Unicorn peered into the room and found Art sitting on his bed, staring at a drawing pad on his lap, then at her.

He seemed tortured just before. Now, he was scared.

Unicorn waited not for affirmation. What she wanted to say was more important than observing decorum. He needed to hear this before anything else.

She sat on the bed and reached for his hands while he was dazed.

"I...I know. About your feelings," she said. "I know you...love me."

"...I'm sorry. I...must've scared you."

"No. No, you didn't," Unicorn shook her head. She tightened her grip on his hands, and he did the same. "I don't know what made you feel like that, but...it's alright. To have feelings for someone, whatever it is...it's alright. Please...don't feel guilty over it."

"But..."

"It's okay. You're not a bad person...and it's not wrong. I...I'm happy that you feel that way for me...even though I don't know how I deserve it, or if I even can return it....but it's alright. I will not think of you differently."

"But...I...I just can't stop thinking about you."

"Then you can paint my portrait again and again if you wish."

"....Is it really alright?"

Unicorn nodded; even if she was so flustered, she never felt surer.

"...Really...?"

She nodded again. It's true she could not return his feelings—at least for now, or perhaps even never. Maybe he will move on someday. But she could do this much. Show that first love was just that—innocence, something not to be sullied by thoughts that didn't belong.

"I promise."

He took a deep breath and bowed his head.

"...Thank...you," he said. Unicorn felt her chest tighten as she saw tears dropping on the drawing pad.

"If...if you want to cry...it's okay..." she patted his head, as Illustrious and the Commander would often do to her whenever she's upset.

And he did cry silently, letting his tears flow freely as if he had been holding them back for a long time.

Unicorn thought he probably was.

But it was alright. It wasn't wrong.

It would be okay.

He was not wrong.

And she would make sure he would always remember that.

She held him close, rubbing circles on his back until the tears stopped.

That was the first time she ever hugged a human, she realized, remembering how fragile they could be.

And that was fine.

"It's okay," she whispered for one last time. "It's okay."

And that was all he needed to hear.

He pulled away, with a tear-stained smile, and rose from the bed. He propped a canvas to the easel. He peered from it, and Unicorn understood that pink-tinted hopeful look.

She nodded, smiled, and waited.

He picked up his tools and began to paint.

A portrait that Unicorn knew was born from the heart that's no longer afraid to love.

And it will be perfect.

***

The picture on the canvas was one of a sunny day. The seascape was as calm as it was before.

But the actual clouds above her were dark and brooding. The sea was tumultuous. The sky was overcast.

It was yet another stark dissimilitude between the real and the painted. But Unicorn didn't find it as disturbing now. In fact, it was strangely relieving, and she didn't feel like asking something she already knew the answer to.

For her, this picture was as it should be. It was as he should be.

And maybe one day they could figure it out, one step at a time.

But for now, she would keep watching him paint as she did before, knowing that he wouldn't run away anymore.