Disclaimer: I don't own Get Backers.

Warning: Alternate pairing.

Art

There was nothing special about him. He was there doing his job and ruining my dream. What could be special about him?

But books can't be judged by their cover or paintings by the brush they've been painted with.

It's the essence that matters, the spirit.

The way he interpreted my words, the way he reacted when facing the truth... the calm in his eyes when he talked about the artpieces. That in essence was his truth.

He was so unpredictable.

That was special about him. And the feather-soft feeling he provoked in me when he finally understood. How he didn't really judge my actions for certain until the very end.

How art wasn't just another word in his mouth it was... a feeling. A deep feeling. A feeling we shared.

The feeling that joined us.

It wasn't affection. No, it was much stronger.

It was art.