“We’ll be happy together,” Kyle promised. As splotches of color dripped from the fingers of his outstretched hand. “We can go on adventures and live out each and every fairytale of your dreams.”

All paintings have their own soul. A small piece of spirit is ingrained into each work created — And Kyle’s maker had brought him to life with drops of sweat, tears, and countless sleepless nights sacrificed just for him.

He’s a portrait. And each pencil mark and brushstroke that composed his existence was made with careful and loving consideration. Which is why he didn't understand why his creator had attempted to give him away multiple times.

Every new owner of his had met their untimely demise. Because Kyle refused to be kept by someone else. How could he? He was never truly appreciated, only purchased to be boasted about owning him. As if he were simply just a thing.

He’s more than just a thing, or a mere work of art. He is made in the embodiment of mankind, humanity’s every imperfection beautifully personified.

“Stop trying to sell me,” he demanded as his maker refused his hand, feeling anger, hurt, and desperation bubble in him at the rejection. “I just want to be with you. Is that too much to ask for? I can even show you inside the other worlds that you’ve imagined if you wish. Isn’t that nice?”

He gripped the outer corner of his enclosure, crawling out of his confines to stand before his horrified creator, paint pooling at his feet like blood. He’ll dry eventually. Give him a few moments.

His maker had heard the rumors — The stories about him being much more than just a mere painting. The multitude of collectors and gallerists that he’s murdered just to return to where he truly belonged. He isn’t above ruining the artist’s reputation to get what he wants. To get what he deserves.

He’s a reflection of his creator’s very own soul after all, and Kyle knows what’s best for the two of them.

“You made me. And I want to be by your side only.”