The shed became more home to Logan than his actual home in less than two days. Each day the rest of the week, Logan would walk to the shed with Dakota and learn another thing about painting. He now knew what different brush types there were, different kinds of paint, and different types of canvases. The information overload had been a lot to handle at first, but every time he stepped into the shed, he felt a calm wash over him.

This time wasn’t any different. The moment he stepped through the door he felt all the weight that had been weighing on him lifted. Though there wasn’t much weight on him. Well, maybe a little. He was constantly thinking about if he was doing the right thing or if he would be able to make things better at all.

“What’s wrong?”

Logan didn’t realize he’d stepped inside and just stopped at the door. His vision had gone blurry as he was sucked in by his swirling thoughts. The sound of Dakota’s voice woke him up. 

It was the soft tone of his voice that Logan liked the best about Dakota. He didn’t speak that often which meant Logan got to hear it especially. Logan only felt a little weird that he wanted to covet that voice. Only a little. Only for this time being. 

Dakota sat on the stool this time, paintbrush in one hand, the other lazily holding the palette. His gaze only flickered toward Logan once during this time.

“Nothing,” Logan replied as he stepped further inside. He sat his notebook next to Dakota’s sketchbook. “No lesson today?”

“There will be. Sit next to me.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the wooden chair next to the desk and brought it over next to Dakota.

The small canvas they’d been working on looked completely different. Logan didn’t know how many times you could paint over a canvas before it started to show, but this one didn’t look anything like the one he’d been working on.

Logan’s random brushstrokes and attempts at painting buildings and trees was gone. A beautiful ocean view had replaced the smears and blobs of paint. Honestly, Logan was starting to think that the brushes Dakota had given him had been tampered with or straight up cursed. There was no way anyone could make something good from them.

But here Dakota was, proving that Logan was just inept. Or that Dakota was the most gifted person Logan had ever met. 

Both were probably true.

“Just watch what I do and how I utilize the brushes.”

Logan noticed that there was no paint on Dakota’s brushes. It wasn’t until Logan sat next to him did he dip one of the brushes into the mixed color on his palette that he actually started painting. Logan would have noticed if Dakota had taken the painting home as he didn’t leave until Dakota did. Even then, without Dakota knowing it, he would follow Dakota until they reached his neighborhood. 

It was creepy, he knew, but he needed to make sure Dakota got home safe every night. He didn’t watch Dakota enter his house or anything. In fact, he made a point to stop at the end of the street and then turn back around to his house. 

The end of a brush poked his cheek. 

Logan leaned back.

“I can tell when you zone out,” Dakota said. “You’re not paying attention.”

Disappointment coated his words. The feeling punched Logan in the gut. 

“I’m paying attention.” He blinked a couple times to get rid of the haze in his eyes. “I just…I was thinking that it might be useful to have your phone number.”

Dakota just stared at him.

“I mean it would help to let you know that I’m on my way. And so you could call me if anything happens.” He cleared his throat. “I understand if you don’t want to—”

“I want to.”

Logan gave a breathy laugh. “That’s—uh—great.”

He nodded like an absolute fool. 

Just so slightly, the corner of Dakota’s mouth turned upward. “Later.”

Logan’s heart quickened. He nodded again and then focused back on the painting. Every once in while, he would glance at Dakota’s face and then his mouth. 

Logan flipped his phone open and meticulously typed out ‘omw’. It was hard to fight the smile that stretched over his face. He smothered it with a wipe over his mouth. He bit his bottom lip as he sent the text. He waited for a reply he knew wouldn’t come, but that was okay. Just seeing the name ‘Dakota’ in his contacts was nice enough.

Dakota was waiting for him outside his classroom once again, this time at the top of the stairs next to the art room. Logan appeared at the landing and waved to the dark haired boy. Dakota didn’t smile nor did he wave, but Logan could tell he was happy to see him. 

After spending the week with Dakota, he’d found that the boy spoke through his eyes. It wasn’t quite a surprise since Logan had been reading him through those green eyes since they were children. He just never knew that he would be able to recognize more than fear in them.

“You’re in a good mood,” Logan pointed out, crossing his arms. “Something happen?”

Dakota took his time coming down the stairs. “I finished a painting.”

“Ohhh.” Logan patted him on the back. “Do I get to see it?”

“Maybe.”

Logan reached over, slow enough that Dakota could back away, and pulled Dakota’s bangs away with a finger. “Have you thought about cutting your hair?”

Dakota didn’t shy away. “I can.”

Their eyes met. Dakota’s gaze was intense and way too close. 

“Your eyes are too pretty to hide,” Logan said then turned away. “Ah. Forget I said anything. Let’s go. I want a snack.”

This time, it was Dakota who trailed after Logan. It was a strange change of events. The back of Logan’s neck was itchy and he wanted to glance over his shoulder see what expression Dakota was wearing. He forced himself to stare ahead, wondering just why he was becoming so attached.

As if they were on a timed schedule, they walked down to the vending machines and bought two drinks. A coke and a tea. 

Logan grabbed a plate from the cafeteria and the two retraced their steps back upstairs. The upstairs only had one active classroom, the art room, but there were two other spaces. One was a storage area and another was an empty classroom that was usually reserved for state testing. The two entered the latter, sitting across from each other while they picked at the shared school lunch.

Dakota snatched the cornbread before Logan even had a chance to look at it. 

Logan laughed. “And you said you weren’t hungry.”

Dakota’s cheeks were puffed from how much cornbread he’d stuffed into his mouth. He kept chowing down, not at all bothered by Logan’s teasing. A moment later and it was as if there hadn’t been cornbread in the first place. He washed it down with his coke and watched Logan pick at the leftovers.

“I’ll get another.”

“Huh?” Logan looked up from the tray then shook his head. “No. It’s not that. I just thought it was nice to know something else about you.”

He smiled as he took a forkful of green beans and shoved it into his mouth. These days felt infinite. Here, with Dakota, he didn’t feel the passing of time. Was this how it was always going to be? 

No, he thought with sadness creeping in, it couldn’t always be like this. Dakota had a life to live. But maybe Logan could watch from the sidelines. He could be someone from high school that popped up in his life every once in awhile. 

“What else do you want to know?”

Logan swallowed, grinning even bigger. “Everything, maybe?”

Dakota’s gaze was too intense again. Logan felt a warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t look in Dakota’s eyes for some reason. 

“The reason why I started painting wasn’t because of art.”

Logan had to look at Dakota then. Even though it hurt like he was being burned by the rays of the sun, he had to know what his eyes were saying. 

Dakota hadn’t taken his eyes off Logan. “I saw a movie once when I was little. A woman screamed out her love to an angel who couldn’t love her back. Ever since, I’ve wondered what it would feel like to love someone who was out of reach.”

Logan’s mouth went dry. “Is that why you paint angels?”

“I guess?” Dakota’s brows furrowed. “They look like humans, but they’re not. It’s…easier to look at them.”

Logan nodded as if he understood. He did, somewhat. Dakota’s dislike toward humans even went so far as to not be able to look at them while he painted.

He thought about the movie Dakota spoke about. “I wonder if angels feel love. Do they want to?”

To love something you can’t—Logan had never thought about it. He hadn’t thought about love at all.

Dakota leaned over, his face too close to Logan’s again. Logan let it happen, not because it didn’t make his chest tighten or because his face didn’t burn, but because despite the discomfort, Logan wanted to be close to Dakota. 

“I want to know more about you too,” Dakota whispered. His words were sweet, a trail of sugar that Logan could hardly resist. 

“What do you want to know?”