"This painting is stunning. When did you do this?"
I looked up at him. "I started it some time ago, but I finished last night. I couldn't sleep. You know what it is, right?"
He nodded immediately.
"There's the wet road," he pointed to the center of the painting. "And the glowing lights. I remember the day we talked about it. I guess you do too."
Of course I did.

Two months earlier, I sat in the passenger seat of his orange Chevy. There was a steady but gentle rain falling that night. The soothing drops on the windshield made me lean my head against the window. It was late and we had just spent the last few hours at his house. A small smile grew on my face as I recognized the song that came through the speakers.
"I think this is the first song you ever told me to look up," I said, still grinning.
"It might be. I've recommended so many songs, I don't even remember."
I nodded and we continued down the street in silence until he spoke again.
"I love the way the lights reflect off the road when it rains like this. And it's only at night too. It's always been one of my favorite things to look at."
My gaze turned to the left. In the dark, his face looked even more mysterious than usual. The shadows on his face reminded me of the deeper thoughts he never shared. This sudden confession took me by surprise. A confession about which I felt the same, nonetheless.
Quickly glancing over as he turned left, he said,"You're just staring at me right now."
"What? Oh, no, yeah."
"That was an intelligent response," he said jokingly.
I laughed gently. "I've always liked rainy nights for that same reason."
I spent the rest of the car ride thinking about rainy roads.

It wasn't until I lied awake in my bed that same night, thinking about earlier, that a thought occurred to me. For years, I thought love was a lie people told. An excuse people used to make fools of themselves, or an emotion expressed in an attempt to avoid abandonment. But as my breaths began to deepen, and my eyes began to close, I felt some peace in knowing I had fallen in love with my best friend.

"Do you think I could buy that painting from you?" he asked.
I hesitated before answering. "I got rid of it, sorry."
His head tilted to the side as he asked curiously, "Why did you do that?"
"I don't usually like to keep my artwork. I took a picture of it just to show you."
He nodded slowly and dropped the topic as he sensed my discomfort.
We continued walking down the hallway, and as he droned on about the latest song he discovered, my mind wandered elsewhere. The truth is, the painting was still sitting in my room. I wanted to keep it to myself.