The end of the story :3

There's a few side companion stories, but we will see if they end up here or if they stay in the book that should be existing.....eventually.

(Navigation links to show up.....eventually)
_______________________________________________________
“That’s a really beautiful piece, Deth. How have I never seen you working on it before?”
Dustan didn’t think he knew everything there was to know about Deth; in fairness, that was one of the greatest beauties of their relationship extending beyond the humble beginnings of their college romance.
There was always a little something new to be learned about the lion, and they had nothing but time to sit down together and get to know each other even better than they already did.
“Just thought I’d try my hand at finishing it today…it’s been sitting in the attic for a while now, but I guess it just struck me as a good time to give this self-portrait another try.”
Dustan never knew Deth to be artistically inclined, but the painting itself was elaborate enough that the jaguar would have known for sure who the painting was supposed to be, if there weren’t little marks of black and gray scattered over the muzzle and the features Deth had drawn in his youth.
“It looks…painful,” he admitted. “I’m getting some vibes of Dorian Gray, if I’m being honest.”
Deth shook his head. “It’s not quite like that…hate to break it to you, but one of these days, I’m gonna wake up and need glasses and a walker.”
“You and me both,” Dustan agreed, pulling up a chair next to his boyfriend and watching him work for a spell. “But since you seem to have a steady hand in the meantime, do you mind if I ask what you’re doing with the painting, exactly? It kinda looks like you finished it a long time ago.”
“That’s what I used to think, too.”
The original palette of the painting was an overflowing wealth of dull colors: the gray was drab, the blue was lifeless, and the streaks of black were so dark that they nearly drained the life out of the room.
Somehow, sitting in front of that display and moving fresh brush strokes over the piece was a cathartic experience for Deth. He wasn’t undoing the damage that he’d done to the piece in his uncertain youth, but little by little, he worked brighter colors into the scars that he’d given himself as a child.
Those little bits and pieces hadn’t just been filled from within, and fittingly enough, there were a plethora of colors being mingled into a sparkling puddle of gold, with each drop shifting the hue of that golden paint one way or the other.
Long, easy strokes covered up the vast majority of the marks that he’d made in fits of blind rage or youthful confusion, and each stroke told not just of the maturity that came along with Deth’s years, but a greater understanding of the man in the picture, and the fact that his scars weren’t necessarily the dark thing he thought they should have been.
“I always used to think I was broken,” Deth finally gave an answer, pausing with the paintbrush clutched skillfully in his right paw. “But I felt like telling the world about it would make them only see the cracks…and I never wanted anyone to see what a shattered person looked like. I always felt like I was doing everyone else a kindness by keeping those secrets locked away…almost like I’d be inflicting these wounds on other people by sharing them.”
“Took you a long time to realize that sharing pain doesn’t necessarily share the wound, didn’t it?” Dustan asked, knowing that he’d hit the nail a bit too squarely on the head when Deth chuckled in the middle of his question. “And even if it did, those people in your life would have been glad to wear those marks, I’m sure.”
“Maybe they would have been,” Deth nodded, adding another stroke of brilliant, sparkling gold to the picture and filling in a small tear in the canvas that he’d made years and years before. “I do have pretty good friends, still…but this isn’t the kind of burden that I would have wanted them to bear for me. Friendship shouldn’t be a transactional thing.”
“Every relationship has a little back and forth to it,” Dustan reminded him. “It’s in trying to give as much as we get that we find the people who really care about us…who really are worth their weight in gold.”
“Okay; I know you’re just trying to be clever, now.”
The creases of gold paint that were starting to dry gave a brilliant reflection of Dustan standing by Deth’s side and resting a palm on his shoulder. A single touch, just like that one, could impart such comfort on someone that it shouldn’t have been overlooked, but it wasn’t a singular act of that nature that defined a relationship: Dustan was right about that.
It was every little drop that altered the golden paint on his brush that reminded him of the weeks, months and years that certain people had given over to helping him get through the darkness in his own life, and the time he’d given back that caused the paint to shine that much brighter…to give the completed self-portrait a bit more of a shimmer than it might have had if he’d simply allowed people to cover up his tougher memories with streaks of endless, golden days.
“Is it working, at least?”
“What, being clever?”
“Well, yes…that…” Dustan trailed off for a moment. “But…is this working, too? Because I think it is.”
There were more opinions that mattered to Deth than his own and his boyfriend’s, but those were the only two voices in the room, right then.
Everything else was an echo of a memory, etched into a painting that he was glad to see taken to the next step, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever see it completed.
He’d be happy to add a few more brush strokes as he learned more and more about himself, and for a moment, he had to pause and remember how hard it used to be to accept such a thing about himself.
He’d be happy to add those strokes.
“Believe it or not, I think everything is working,” Deth answered, setting the brush on the easel and smiling…first at the jaguar that offered him a quick, delicate kiss…
…And then at his own reflection, still dripping with fresh strokes of golden memories.
Though he’d done nothing to the lips, he felt as if the portrait looked happier than it was before. There was a thankfulness in the eyes that looked back at him; a quiet, but profound reminder to thank himself for his progress, as well.
No one did it all on their own, but some of that work hard to start with himself.
Deth knew he’d do well to remember that.
“Just let me know what I can do to help keep things working, Deth. You know I’ll be happy to give you hand.”
The lion turned back to his fellow feline and pressed a single dab of that unique, golden paint to the end of Dustan’s nose.
“Right back at you, handsome.”
-