"Why did you stay?"

Sky's question broke the cosy silence in our old flat.

I sat in the shadows, almost blending in, whilst Sky basked in what's little left of the dimming sunset that seeped through the thick curtains. He held his pencil up, but his canvas remained blank.

It was first a quiet afternoon, and we minded our own business. I nestled comfortably on the sofa with my camera and laptop, doing light editing works. Sky occupied the coffee table, the floor, every now and then my feet, and he'd laid down his art materials on chairs.

The living room was covered in glitters and paint, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Time passed by quickly and soon it was a quiet twilight. And with the setting sun, Sky dropped his question.

"What do you mean, stay?" I set my camera down and sat up, peering through the darkness for him.

He had blond hair, a rather pale complexion that was easy to spot in the shadows, and an adoration for clothes with neutral and pastel colours. If he wore anything darker, he knew I wouldn't recognise him.

He grinned at me and shook his head, putting his pencil down. "That was a silly question. I mean, in the last draft, you didn't answer me straightforwardly. I don't know why I thought you'd respond this time."

"Hmm," I replied in a musing tone. "I don't know how to respond to that, but if you want me to leave you alone, just say so." I chuckled lightly after, and used my phone to navigate through the dark living room. I turned the lights on.

He rubbed his eyes and showed me a sketch he pulled from under the couch. For a second I wondered how many papers were actually there, and how hard it would be to clean up after. "What do you think of this sketch? It's us during that holiday in Cornwall."

"Cornwall?"

"Well, we didn't have any pictures together there, so I used one of the photos you took of me and added you there."

Letting out a little exhale of anticipation, I took the paper from him and studied the sketch. It was indeed the two of us, sitting on the grass with what's probably the vast blue sky behind us. I squinted my eyes at the faces. I knew it was still a sketch, a rough draft, but I was hoping to recognise any semblance of familiarity with the faces.

Because I knew that Sky, despite his quirks and eccentricities, was just like any other artist—it would take him years to finish that artwork. After a good cry, after a lot of wailing, and energy drinks, and coffee, and moments of self-doubt.

But he drew the emotions so well, that even with my face blindness, I knew in my heart that it was us. Because we were happy, and very much in love, it didn't matter who's who.

I could feel it even with just the rough sketch. It's always the emotion behind each art he does.

"I'm actually the one on the right." He said, standing beside me and looking over my shoulder. "That time you lend me your jacket. I thought I looked cool."

"You're cute when you use the word cool wrong." I tousled his hair. "And thank you for clarifying that I was the one wearing the boring shirt."

"You have lots of boring shirts!" He pointed at the brown dog sitting beside him in the sketch. "That's Rain."

"We don't have a dog."

"We have in that sketch. We also have a cat named Storm, but I don't know how to draw a cat. Yet."

"What else are you going to add in this menagerie?" I asked teasingly.

"Maybe a parakeet . . . Or a llama. And they will all have weather-related names."

I returned the sketch to him and kissed his forehead. "As long as it's not another person. And as long as you're not committing any crimes."

"Did you like it?" He clutched the paper tightly.

"I loved it!" I told him honestly. "I can't wait for you to paint it on a canvas."

His mood changed. His shoulder sagged and his eyes drifted to the nuclear warfare of a mess in the living room. "I'm not sure if I can paint it. I don't have enough sparkles in me."

The sparkles, of course.

"Do you really have to wait for the sparkles to come?" I asked, hoping it wasn't insensitive.

He gasped, offended. "You know I need the sparkles!"

He started picking up the rest of the papers under the couch, which both surprised and alarmed me. And he was fuming, too. I found it cute but I was not allowed to point that out lest we start a cycle of him pouting, me thinking it's adorable, him pouting some more—there's just no winning.

"I need the feelings," he added, gathering all his acrylics on the coffee table. "And the feelings have to be strong."

Is that why you asked me why I stayed?

"Tomorrow," I told him, holding his hand, "let's visit all the places we've been. All the places special to us."

"Why?" He was confused, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"To get your sparkles back. You remember the place where we had our first date? Our first kiss? That place we frequent for coffee? Our first everything."

He laughed softly to himself. "That sounds like goodbye."

I squeezed his hand. "It's not goodbye. We're saying hello to them again."

"Why did you stay?" he asked again. This time, I found it weird. Not Sky-weird, just . . . the regular, peculiar weird.

The kind of weird that I felt in my chest because I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn't figure it out. Alone, at least.

Sky's weird was comforting, and it clicked, and it was wonderful.

This kind of weird was just sad.

"I stayed because I love you." I cupped his cheeks. "I don't want you to be alone."

He accepted that answer with a little smile. He pressed his cheek against my hand and closed his eyes. I thought I heard him humming our song.

I appreciated the view for a moment.

For a moment, with Sky. My favourite subject. My favourite muse. My favourite everything.

I had prosopagnosia. I wouldn't be able to recognise even my own face in the mirror, but I hoped to love Sky so much, that I would recognise him with his presence alone. His scent, his voice, his cheerful giggles, and his touch.

I hoped to love him for his soul, his everything. I stayed because I still had to love him. See his arts. Listen to his stories. Give him his sparkles.

"Let's go to the Sunken Garden tomorrow," I said. "This time let's take a picture together. I think I can make it work."

He nodded with a floaty grin and went back to rearranging his paint tubes.

Then I checked my phone and read: there was a message from a client who wanted to do a photoshoot, but was wondering if I was still active. If the page was still active and if my services were still available.

I replied, Of course we're still active.

I got a little annoyed with their last message.

Thought u died lol. XXX Gardens tomorrow, I'm with a makeup artist.

I politely refused. Sky and I still had have moments to relive tomorrow.