The air was fresh, carrying the subtle fragrance of pine and wildflowers. Eve and Vincent had settled by the riverbank. The serene landscape stretched before them—golden leaves drifted gently from the trees, landing softly on the still waters of the river. The rolling hills stood in the distance, painted in shades of autumn.
Eve spread out her canvas, feeling the cool earth beneath her, and glanced over at Vincent. His eyes were twinkling mischievously as he arranged his own supplies.
"I have an idea," Vincent said suddenly, his tone light but full of anticipation. He leaned back against a tree, the sun casting soft shadows on his face. "Let's make this a little more fun. We won't tell each other what we're painting—keep it a secret. When we're done, we'll reveal them to each other."
Her eyebrows lifted, her lips curving into a smile. "A mystery, huh?" She liked it. There was something playful in the challenge, something that felt light and free—exactly what she needed. "Alright," she agreed, nodding. "Let's see who can surprise the other more."
With a smirk, Vincent raised his hands in surrender. "Oh, I'm sure you'll win that. But let's find out."
They didn't sit beside each other, but instead positioned themselves opposite, so they couldn't catch glimpses of what the other was working on. The only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves, the quiet hum of the river, and the occasional chirping of birds in the distance.
Eve took a deep breath, letting her gaze wander over the landscape in front of her. She could already feel her mind softening, absorbing the tranquility of the place. She dipped her brush into the colors, and as she worked, her painting began to take shape—soft, sweeping strokes that captured the peaceful scene around them. The gentle arc of the river, the way the trees leaned in as if to whisper secrets to the water, the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches.
Eve painted the quiet majesty of the hills, their ancient presence standing guard over the scene, and the river that wound through the landscape like a lifeline. It was all calm, serene, untouched by the chaos of the world.
She felt a calmness settle over her, as if the gentle flow of the river had seeped into her heart. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly present. She smiled to herself, excited to show Vincent her work.
After what felt like hours but passed too quickly, Vincent's voice broke the silence. "Done?" he asked, a playful note in his voice.
Eve wiped her hands on a rag and turned, feeling a spark of curiosity. "Ready when you are."
They stood, each holding their canvas, but before Eve could show hers, Vincent revealed his first.
The breath caught in her throat.
He had painted her.
It wasn't the landscape, the serene river, or the golden trees she had expected—it was her. The version of herself through his eyes. Her face, caught in an expression of quiet contemplation, the wind brushing against her hair, her eyes focused on something unseen.
Every brushstroke had captured her essence—the serenity she hadn't even realized she possessed in this moment. There was a glow to the painting, a warmth in the way he had rendered her, as if he had captured not just her appearance but her soul.
Eve felt her heart tighten, her stomach fluttering as if butterflies had taken flight. She was taken aback, almost wanting to cry from the sudden rush of emotions. She glanced from the painting to Vincent, her voice barely a whisper, "You... you painted me?"
Vincent shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips, though there was something tender in his eyes. "It seemed like the right thing to do." He scratched the back of his neck, a little self-conscious now. "I didn't think you'd mind."
"Mind?" Eve laughed softly, though the tears in her eyes threatened to spill. "It's beautiful. I—I don't know what to say." She looked back at the painting, her heart swelling with a feeling she hadn't expected to find today.
For a long moment, she just stared at it, seeing herself through his eyes—seeing herself as someone worth painting, someone... beautiful.
"I was right about you," she murmured, her smile widening. "You're a better painter than you give yourself credit for."
Vincent chuckled, shaking his head. "I've had good inspiration."
He turned to her canvas next, and Eve unveiled her painting—a scene of serenity and peace, where nature was the only focus. The trees, the water, the hills, all intertwined in harmony. There was something quiet and beautiful about it, something that calmed the heart, much like Eve herself.
"This," Vincent said, stepping closer to examine her work, "is incredible. You captured it perfectly." His voice was filled with genuine admiration. "It's like looking at peace."
Eve felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, but there was more—something deeper stirring between them now.
"You know," he said, leaning forward and dipping his hand into the palette of colors, "we should make this moment more memorable." Vincent pressed his paint-covered palm onto the untouched canvas, leaving behind a bright imprint of his hand. "Something to remember the day by."
Eve watched, her eyes widening in surprise. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Without a word, she dipped her hand in the opposite palette of colors.
The cool, smooth sensation of the paint on her skin felt like a small thrill. She then pressed her palm next to his, leaving her own vibrant mark beside his. The left hand belonged to her, and the right to Vincent—side by side on the canvas.
"You always were good at making things last," Eve said softly. She smiled, her voice carrying a quiet warmth.
But, Eve hadn't noticed Vincent moving closer. Suddenly, she felt something soft brush against her nose. Startled, she blinked and looked up to see Vincent, grinning like a mischievous child, his fingers smeared with paint.
"You didn't..." she gasped, laughter bubbling up in her throat.
"Oh, I did." Vincent laughed, taking a step back, knowing full well she would retaliate.
With a quick motion, she grabbed a fistful of paint and smeared it across his cheek. The bright red stood out starkly against his skin, and his eyes widened in mock horror.
"You're asking for trouble now, Windsor."
"Oh really?" Eve teased, feeling the lightness of the moment lift her heart. She hadn't felt this carefree in years. She wiped another streak of paint across his jaw, laughing at the sight of him.
Before they knew it, a full-fledged color war had begun. They darted around the canvas, splashing colors at each other like kids, their laughter mingling with the sound of the river's soft flow. Colors streaked across their faces, arms, and clothes, and neither of them cared about the mess.
For a few precious moments, it was like they had stepped outside of time. Eve was just... happy. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years.
They finally collapsed back onto the grass, breathless and covered in bright, messy streaks of paint. Eve felt a warmth growing in her chest. She turned to look at Vincent, who was wiping his own cheek with the back of his hand.
"Thanks for this," Eve said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "I didn't realize how much I needed it."
Vincent's smile softened as he met her gaze. "You needed to paint?" he teased, though his tone was gentle, knowing she meant more than just the painting.
Eve rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. "No, I needed... this. I don't even know what to call it. Just... I missed feeling this free."
Vincent didn't respond right away. His eyes lingered on her face, the way her hair framed her features, the way her eyes gleamed with a spark he hadn't seen in so long. He remembered the Eve from high school—the girl who was always smiling, always full of life.
And now, sitting beside her, seeing her this way again, he realized how much he had missed that part of her. How much he had missed her.
He didn't tell her that, though. Instead, he smiled softly and said, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
The truth was, he was enjoying it more than he could have expected. Watching her like this, laughing and carefree, reminded him of the old days.
Eve glanced over at the canvas where their handprints stood side by side. It was a beautiful mess, a burst of color that captured the bliss of the moment. She felt a soft fluttering in her stomach, like the stirring of butterflies.
Something about being here with him felt... right. More right than anything had felt in a long time.