As I Know Anything About You, I'll Be The One To Your Girlfriend, Aren't I? - Volume 1 Chapter 2.6

I Hope You Understand 6

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“Alright…”

After returning from the Ado residence (with a large amount of food container filled with food as souvenirs), I found myself in front of a canvas at home.

The Miyashiro household is a typical two-story building, but there’s one thing that sets it apart: it has a private workshop on the first floor.

When my parents and I used to use it together, the room felt a bit cramped.

Now, it feels quite spacious, yet the stark emptiness hasn’t changed over the years, nor has my ability to get used to it.

“Okay.”

Still, the feel of the paintbrush in my hand and the smell of paint and oil transform me into a painter. I have no choice but to channel my loneliness and sadness into my work, turning them into materials for my art.

“Let’s do this.”

I start applying colors to the canvas, pulling the complete image from my imagination into reality. The unique sensation eventually makes me lose awareness, blurring the lines between myself, the paintbrush, and the canvas.

“────”

The scenery from within me seems to flow directly onto the canvas’s surface, a sensation so strong it feels undeniable, and slowly, the painting comes to life.

My concentration intensifies, stealing away my sense of time. It always happens when I paint.

“────”

Without knowing how much time has passed, I continue to express the world inside me through layers of paint, feeling as one with the canvas through the medium of my brush.

There’s no deceiving here, which is why I love painting but also find it terrifying.

One’s skill in painting is like a mirror. The more polished it becomes, the clearer it reflects oneself.

Was that something my father said?

──No.

“!”

I startle, and my brush stops.

Right, it wasn’t my father’s words. Just now, it was──

“…Mom.”

I murmur, realizing I can still feel the paintbrush in my hand.

Ah.

Feeling this means my concentration has broken.

I sigh and stand up from my chair. …Time for a break.

I’ve worked up a sweat without realizing it. I need to get something to drink from the kitchen to avoid heatstroke.

Speaking of which, today was really a lifesaver.

…Kujo-san, huh?

The person who sits closest to me yet feels so far away. I used to think of her that way, but my impression of her has been changing little by little.

Although she remains cool and somewhat languid in conversation, I’ve found talking with her enjoyable.

…Except for the colors and emotions I sometimes “see” from her, which are still terrifying to me.

But that must be some mistake. Because how could it be?

Yes, just like that──

“…”

My gaze drifts to the tubes of paint near my palette, specifically to several that are clearly unused.

Specifically, the names on the tubes I touch, Cadmium Red, Vermilion, and Crimson Lake, all belong to the red spectrum, the same as the haze I “see” from Kujo-san.

The tubes are untouched, their content undiminished, never even opened once.

It’s not because they are brand new. I bought these years ago.

…Someday.

Yes, someday I’ll definitely use them. That’s what I thought when I placed them there.

But that someday never arrives.

I…

Cannot use red hues at all.

Red, for me, symbolizes love and affection. That’s why I just can’t.

This reality, stemming from trauma related to my parents, is an incredibly heavy shackle for me as an artist.

The expressions that could be made if red were available, and the ones that can’t be drawn without it, are countless in this world.

It’s not just about missing a whole range of colors. The adjacent and complementary colors to red, and their combinations, their appeal is significantly limited.

Without being able to use red paint, the range of colors I can mix is also limited. Red is one of the primary colors, so the impact is tremendously significant.

Enough is enough, I can’t stay like this forever.

How many times have I thought, “If only I could use red”?

With red, I could create better paintings—ones that offer more certain comfort and warmth.

Paintings that make viewers feel relieved, even if just for a moment, where loneliness fades, sadness diminishes, and anxieties are forgotten.

There are people out there feeling lonely due to their family situations or illnesses, things beyond their control, just like me right now.

I know the bitterness of those experiences firsthand, with the rawness of life.

And if I may say so myself, I know that my paintings have helped such people, that’s a fact.

Ah, damn.

If only I had red. Then, I could do so much more.

“…”

Frustrated by my inability, I grab the tube of paint.

Today, for sure, this time.

Contrary to my resolve, I can feel my fingertips growing colder as they clutch the tube, as if turning to ice.

“…”

Still, trying to maintain my resolve, I shakily attempt to twist off the cap.

“Ah, …uh, …uuuuuh…!”

My fingers stiffen, and I can’t open the cap.

It should be easy, just a twist, but I can’t manage it.

Eventually, my fingers drop the tube. As it rolls across the floor, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

“Ah…”

I flop onto the bed.

After painting for about three hours, taking a shower, and now with the clock past midnight. Tomorrow is a day off, but it’s about time to sleep.

I really want to paint all night. It’s frustrating that my body can’t keep up.

It’s not just my body that can’t keep up, but my heart too. In the end, I couldn’t use red today either.

“…No.”

I shake my head to change my sinking mood.

Dwelling on what I can’t do won’t improve anything. I need to focus on what I can do.

That’s right, what I can do is…

…search for it. Kujo-san suggested it, after all.

I pick up my smartphone and launch the browser. The search keyword is “smartwatch.” I remember Kujo-san mentioning it might help with health management.

“Wow.”

There are more models available than I expected.

Some are designed for sports or dieting, recording how much you exercise, while others track your heart rate, ECG, body temperature, ambient temperature, and even noise levels, helping you understand what causes changes in your condition.

The latter seems more beneficial for me.

“…Oh wow, as expected, the price.”

The model I’m interested in has a price tag that’s intimidating for a student.

“Hmm…”

Though I’m not as professionally active as Kujo-san appears to be, I do earn some money. I get paid for the paintings I’m commissioned to do.

Initially, I thought of accepting them for free or just for the cost of materials, but Daisuke-san advised me to set a proper price.

I don’t have extravagant spending habits, so I’ve saved a fair amount. However, that money is intended for future tuition fees.