The Days After
The days following the art room encounter felt different for Finn. For the first time in years, he felt like someone—besides his parents—had seen him. Monica's words kept echoing in his mind: You're too hard on yourself. He hadn't expected her to be so direct, so… understanding.
Yet, despite the odd warmth he felt from her, he also couldn't shake the feeling of unease. His mind kept replaying the moments with Monica, particularly her calm indifference. He wasn't sure what to make of it—did she really care, or was she just indulging a classmate's curiosity?
As the next few days passed, Finn found himself constantly looking at Monica from across the classroom. She was as distant as ever, always surrounded by her group of friends, chatting and laughing. To her, he was just another classmate. Yet, there was that one thing—her curiosity about his art. That seemed to stand out, even though she never asked him about it again.
---
The Friday After
It was Friday afternoon, and the class was almost over. Finn sat in his seat, his gaze drifting over the notes that had been scribbled on his paper but not really absorbed. Monica was talking with her friends, as usual, her laugh ringing out every now and then. He had gotten used to the sound. To him, it felt normal now. He felt like an observer in his own life, never truly part of the group. But this, the quiet moments when everything felt still, was where he could breathe.
"Finn," came a voice from beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He looked up to see Monica standing next to his desk, her arms folded. "You okay? You look lost."
Finn smiled faintly, embarrassed that she had noticed his distraction. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Monica raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
Finn glanced down at his desk, trying to find the words. "About the project, I guess. I'm still not sure how to finish it."
Monica nodded. "You're always thinking too much. Just draw. The best pieces come when you stop overthinking."
Finn chuckled nervously, his fingers tapping on the desk. "Easier said than done."
She smirked, her gaze shifting to his half-finished piece of art on the table. "Why don't you show me what you've done so far?"
Finn hesitated. He had never shown anyone his unfinished pieces before. His art was personal—something that belonged only to him. Yet, Monica had seen it once, and for some reason, he didn't mind showing her again.
He turned the canvas towards her, his heart pounding in his chest as her eyes scanned the incomplete landscape. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the colors.
"It's good," she said after a moment, her voice surprisingly neutral. "But you're not putting enough light into it. You're afraid to make it brighter."
Finn frowned. "I don't think it needs more light. I wanted to capture the sunset's darker tones."
Monica shook her head. "It's not about the darkness. The light has to come through, even if it's subtle. Art isn't just about what you see. It's about what you feel. Don't be afraid to let it shine."
Finn felt his chest tighten. There was something about her words that made him want to believe them, even though he didn't understand why. How could he just let it shine? His doubts were always there, lurking in the background.
---
The Weekend
That weekend, Finn found himself in the art room again, working in solitude. He wasn't sure why he kept coming back—maybe it was the quiet, the feeling of escaping from everything. Or maybe it was Monica's words that had somehow struck a chord in him. Let it shine. He didn't know what it meant, but it was starting to make sense, in a way he couldn't quite explain.
As he worked, a sudden thought crossed his mind. What if I wasn't as bad as I thought I was?
The idea felt foreign to him, but he couldn't ignore it. His brush strokes became more confident, his colors more vibrant. He painted a streak of light across the sky, a pale yellow that broke through the clouds. He felt a strange warmth in his chest as he worked, and it was then that he realized something—Monica had given him permission to do this. To make mistakes, to try new things, and to let go of his doubts. She had shown him a kind of freedom he hadn't known before.
---
Back at School
The next Monday, Finn walked into class feeling different. He wasn't sure if anyone would notice, but he felt lighter. Like he was carrying less weight on his shoulders. His art, his emotions—everything had become a little clearer in the past few days.
When he entered the classroom, he spotted Monica sitting at her desk. She didn't notice him immediately, but when she did, she gave him a small, knowing smile.
"So," Monica said, leaning back in her chair, "how's the project going?"
Finn hesitated, then nodded. "It's going better. I think I figured out what you meant about the light."
Monica raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Show me later."
Finn smiled, feeling a warmth spreading across his face. "Sure."
He sat down at his desk, feeling more like himself. He wasn't sure what had changed, but something inside him had clicked. Monica had given him the encouragement he never realized he needed, and for once, he wasn't questioning his abilities. Maybe he wasn't as bad at this as he'd always thought.
---
That Afternoon
The afternoon passed quickly, and soon it was time for art class. Finn couldn't help but feel a little nervous when he saw Monica sitting at her usual spot, waiting for him to show her his finished piece. He had worked hard on it over the weekend, and for the first time, he didn't feel the need to apologize for it.
When the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Monica glanced at him expectantly. Finn stood up, his legs feeling heavier than usual, and carried his artwork to the front of the room. Monica leaned forward as he placed it on the easel, her eyes scanning the colors.
"Not bad," she said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "It's… better. You've got more light, but it still has that moody feel you wanted."
Finn felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Thanks. I think I understand now what you meant."
Monica nodded, her eyes still on the painting. "You should stop doubting yourself, Finn. You've got something good here."
Finn didn't know what to say. Her words lingered in his mind. Stop doubting yourself. It sounded so simple, yet it was something he had struggled with for years. But now, for the first time, he felt like he could believe it. Maybe—just maybe—he wasn't as bad as he thought.
Monica didn't linger after class ended. She packed up her things quickly and left, but Finn didn't feel the familiar sense of disappointment that usually followed her absence. Instead, he felt a sense of clarity. It wasn't love. It wasn't anything more than a quiet acknowledgment of his own potential.
The Days After
The days following the art room encounter felt different for Finn. For the first time in years, he felt like someone—besides his parents—had seen him. Monica's words kept echoing in his mind: You're too hard on yourself. He hadn't expected her to be so direct, so… understanding.
Yet, despite the odd warmth he felt from her, he also couldn't shake the feeling of unease. His mind kept replaying the moments with Monica, particularly her calm indifference. He wasn't sure what to make of it—did she really care, or was she just indulging a classmate's curiosity?
As the next few days passed, Finn found himself constantly looking at Monica from across the classroom. She was as distant as ever, always surrounded by her group of friends, chatting and laughing. To her, he was just another classmate. Yet, there was that one thing—her curiosity about his art. That seemed to stand out, even though she never asked him about it again.
---
The Friday After
It was Friday afternoon, and the class was almost over. Finn sat in his seat, his gaze drifting over the notes that had been scribbled on his paper but not really absorbed. Monica was talking with her friends, as usual, her laugh ringing out every now and then. He had gotten used to the sound. To him, it felt normal now. He felt like an observer in his own life, never truly part of the group. But this, the quiet moments when everything felt still, was where he could breathe.
"Finn," came a voice from beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He looked up to see Monica standing next to his desk, her arms folded. "You okay? You look lost."
Finn smiled faintly, embarrassed that she had noticed his distraction. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Monica raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
Finn glanced down at his desk, trying to find the words. "About the project, I guess. I'm still not sure how to finish it."
Monica nodded. "You're always thinking too much. Just draw. The best pieces come when you stop overthinking."
Finn chuckled nervously, his fingers tapping on the desk. "Easier said than done."
She smirked, her gaze shifting to his half-finished piece of art on the table. "Why don't you show me what you've done so far?"
Finn hesitated. He had never shown anyone his unfinished pieces before. His art was personal—something that belonged only to him. Yet, Monica had seen it once, and for some reason, he didn't mind showing her again.
He turned the canvas towards her, his heart pounding in his chest as her eyes scanned the incomplete landscape. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the colors.
"It's good," she said after a moment, her voice surprisingly neutral. "But you're not putting enough light into it. You're afraid to make it brighter."
Finn frowned. "I don't think it needs more light. I wanted to capture the sunset's darker tones."
Monica shook her head. "It's not about the darkness. The light has to come through, even if it's subtle. Art isn't just about what you see. It's about what you feel. Don't be afraid to let it shine."
Finn felt his chest tighten. There was something about her words that made him want to believe them, even though he didn't understand why. How could he just let it shine? His doubts were always there, lurking in the background.
---
The Weekend
That weekend, Finn found himself in the art room again, working in solitude. He wasn't sure why he kept coming back—maybe it was the quiet, the feeling of escaping from everything. Or maybe it was Monica's words that had somehow struck a chord in him. Let it shine. He didn't know what it meant, but it was starting to make sense, in a way he couldn't quite explain.
As he worked, a sudden thought crossed his mind. What if I wasn't as bad as I thought I was?
The idea felt foreign to him, but he couldn't ignore it. His brush strokes became more confident, his colors more vibrant. He painted a streak of light across the sky, a pale yellow that broke through the clouds. He felt a strange warmth in his chest as he worked, and it was then that he realized something—Monica had given him permission to do this. To make mistakes, to try new things, and to let go of his doubts. She had shown him a kind of freedom he hadn't known before.
---
Back at School
The next Monday, Finn walked into class feeling different. He wasn't sure if anyone would notice, but he felt lighter. Like he was carrying less weight on his shoulders. His art, his emotions—everything had become a little clearer in the past few days.
When he entered the classroom, he spotted Monica sitting at her desk. She didn't notice him immediately, but when she did, she gave him a small, knowing smile.
"So," Monica said, leaning back in her chair, "how's the project going?"
Finn hesitated, then nodded. "It's going better. I think I figured out what you meant about the light."
Monica raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Show me later."
Finn smiled, feeling a warmth spreading across his face. "Sure."
He sat down at his desk, feeling more like himself. He wasn't sure what had changed, but something inside him had clicked. Monica had given him the encouragement he never realized he needed, and for once, he wasn't questioning his abilities. Maybe he wasn't as bad at this as he'd always thought.
---
That Afternoon
The afternoon passed quickly, and soon it was time for art class. Finn couldn't help but feel a little nervous when he saw Monica sitting at her usual spot, waiting for him to show her his finished piece. He had worked hard on it over the weekend, and for the first time, he didn't feel the need to apologize for it.
When the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Monica glanced at him expectantly. Finn stood up, his legs feeling heavier than usual, and carried his artwork to the front of the room. Monica leaned forward as he placed it on the easel, her eyes scanning the colors.
"Not bad," she said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "It's… better. You've got more light, but it still has that moody feel you wanted."
Finn felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Thanks. I think I understand now what you meant."
Monica nodded, her eyes still on the painting. "You should stop doubting yourself, Finn. You've got something good here."
Finn didn't know what to say. Her words lingered in his mind. Stop doubting yourself. It sounded so simple, yet it was something he had struggled with for years. But now, for the first time, he felt like he could believe it. Maybe—just maybe—he wasn't as bad as he thought.
Monica didn't linger after class ended. She packed up her things quickly and left, but Finn didn't feel the familiar sense of disappointment that usually followed her absence. Instead, he felt a sense of clarity. It wasn't love. It wasn't anything more than a quiet acknowledgment of his own potential.