"You should try and be a bit faster. I know perfection takes time, but we don't have much of that left." I heard my mother's voice say as I touched the canvas in front of me with a wide end brush. We were in the art room that was mostly silent. The movement of our brushes against our paintings being most of the background sound.

"I understand," I muttered, replying to her comment as I touched the sky of my landscape painting with yellow. I would be having an exhibition with my mum and some of her colleagues in a month plus. I felt happy, as well as a bit intimidated by the idea of having my work hanging beside my mum's in an exhibition, even though it would technically not be the first time.

"Good," I heard her say from her corner of the room. I turned to find her holding her brush about the tip like a pencil as she added details to her work. Her corner was a mess as usual, and the overall she had on was covered in specks of oil paint, and the same could be said about her shoulder-length hair she had refused to do up.

I chuckled a bit at her appearance, trying to hide my laugh with a cough.

"I know what I look like. There's no need to laugh at me," she said as I watched a small smile take form on her lips. I was soon wearing a smile of my own, genuinely happy, yet tired. I turned back to my work, taking in the painting of the mountainside that was coming to life in front of me. I was inspecting it, trying to find a way to further raise the mountains from the sky background when I suddenly remembered Toby's use of contours and sharp highlights in the pencil drawing he'd done in the park. I have seen Ava use the same technique before, but she was a design student, and most of her techniques were generally informal, and seen as an improper use.

But if Toby did it. I soon found myself dipping my brush into dark browns and cream yellows to imitate the style.

"That's new." I paused what I was doing when I heard my mother's voice close by. I looked up to find her standing over me, her head cocked to the side as she observed my work. I hadn't heard her walk up to me, and I felt a little self-conscious for a bit. I loved my mum — I really did, but the way she daunted me made me a bit anxious — insecure.

"Yeah..." I trailed, continuing with the painting. I eventually heard her walk away, and I let out a breath didn't know I had been holding.

"You know you're not the only one under twenty exhibiting that day, right? My friend and his daughter will be there. I'm sure you two will get along and be good friends. She's going to the university you've been admitted to as well," my mother said as her paintbrush touched the background of her canvas with a raw yellow color. It was a painting 'rule' my mother always broke — refusing to mix colors so that they could stand out raw. It was sort of like the fauvist style, but more polished I suppose.

"I thought about what she said, trying to remember which one of her friends had a daughter. "I guess I would..." I trailed, not remembering who she was talking about, but feeling like I had to say something.

"Silvia's an amazing artist as well, too bad she's into the new age pop style — very unrefined," my mother said, as the room fell into silence again.

I painted until my back ached and I had to get up from the stool I was sitting on to stretch. My mum was still painting, and just like my dad, she could go on for hours if someone didn't remind her that she'd been sitting on a spot for too long. I walked over to her, standing behind her as I watched her brush move against her canvas in sharp strokes. The lion in her painting was coming to life, and I could see how she was doing that by drawing attention to its eyes with reflective colors.

"Mum, maybe you should get something to eat," I muttered, trying to tell her that she'd been sitting down for too long indirectly. She made a low grunting noise, like I was pestering her, and then ignored my comment as she continued her painting. I sighed, shaking my head as I turned to make my way out of the art room to find something to eat.

When I got to the kitchen I found Wyatt sitting by the center counter. He looked up as I closed the door, smiling against the sandwich he'd been munching on.

"How's mum doing?" I heard him asked as I walked over to the fridge.

"Busy," I shrugged, looking for some frozen food to warm up in the microwave. I found some leftover pasta, and I made to put some on a plate before leaving it in the microwave to defrost.

"Oh," Wyatt muttered as I turned to find him nodding in understanding.

When the pasta was done warming up, I decided to join Wyatt at the counter. We ate quietly. The only noise that was occasionally made was the sound of Wyatt tapping his index finger of his free hand against his phone's keyboard as he ate. He soon finished his sandwich, and was now busy texting someone — it was probably Ji-Hun, judging from the way he was smiling. He had that awkward small smile that I've only ever seen on him when he's around his boyfriend.

I watched him with interest, wondering what they were talking about.

"What do you guys talk about?" I asked when Wyatt dropped his phone on the marble surface of the counter. He looked up at me with a confused stare, like I'd said something odd and out of place, which was true.

"What?" he asked, his full brows forming a frown on his face.

I shrugged, picking at short strings of pasta with my fork. "You know... What do you talk about with Ji-Hun?" I repeated, watching as Wyatt's frown softened, and soon the eyes that resembled mine lit up as he bit his bottom lip in thought.

"You know, anything really," he said with a shrug, making me sigh. That hadn't been the answer I'd been looking for. I was looking for pointers on how to start a conversation. 'Anything' was too broad of a topic.

"Anything, like?" I tried again, looking straight at him in hopes that he'd give me a more specific answer.

"School, games, and things we both like," Wyatt muttered, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, still not satisfied by the answer, but glad he'd been more specific.

"Why are you asking, though?" Wyatt soon asked, his voice curious. I shrugged, finishing the pasta I was eating before distracting myself by hitting the edge of the plate with my fork.

"I want to talk more, I guess. I just don't know what to talk about," I sighed, thinking about how quiet I was. I never realized it was this bad until I tried to talk to Toby. I felt like I had things to say — I had things to say, but at the same time I felt like I didn't. I Didn't want to come off as creepy, desperate or too direct, but at the same time, I didn't just want to sit there and not say anything.

I don't know.

"Then talk about what you like," Wyatt said, making me look up at him. He smiled at me a little before returning his attention to his phone.

"Like, art?" I asked in a small voice, watching as he nodded at my suggestion.

"Yeah, something you're interested in. What about your sticker collection?" I felt my face warm up in embarrassment at his words. Yes, I collected stickers, but it felt a bit childish. I found myself shrugging before shaking my head. Wyatt sighed.

"How about talking about what the person you're talking to likes? I mean, I talk to Ji-Hun about gaming but I can assure you that I never know half of what he's talking about," Wyatt laughed, making me let out an awkward chuckle of my own.

"Plus, silence can be comfortable, and being a good listener is part of a conversation. You can just let them talk, sometimes it's what someone might need — a listener," Wyatt said as a small smile played at the corner of his lips. I nodded at his words, thinking about them. I knew the things Toby liked to an extent — music, art, food — but would it be odd to bring up something and just hope that he carried the conversation? I wouldn't mind just listening to him.

"Are you excited about going to college?" Wyatt asked, making me look up at him.

"Yes..." I trailed before biting my bottom lip. "In a way," I added after a pause.

I was happy to attend the college my parents were excited about, but I personally didn't know too much about the place. My mum's friend that was an instructor there was going to take me under his wing in a sense. Xander's college was also going to be a few hours drive from mine.

"What about you?" I asked, looking up. "Are you excited to go out of state?"

"Yes." Wyatt grinned, nodding in a way that made the fringe of his brown hair to bounce with the action. "Ji-Hun and I are already looking for places to stay. We want to share a place, so, staying off campus is a good idea."

"Oh," I answered as I continued to listen to him talk. I soon began to think about what he had said earlier — that listening was a big part of a conversation. I was starting to think that maybe I shouldn't be so self-conscious about not having something to say and just listened.

I should try that with Toby. I loved his voice. It was warm, firm — yet soft. It made me happy. I didn't think I'd have a problem with just listening to him at all. Everything he talked about instantly became interesting to me, and I just loved to listen to him talk, even when it wasn't directed at me.