Dearest Anonymous, Let Me Be

Chapter 33: ARC 2 - The Woman in the Painting

The air was dry and musty, as though it hadn't moved for a long time, like a stagnant pool of water where insects wouldn't dare approach.

Aside from the moonlight peeking through the heavy velvet curtains that cover up most of the high arched windows, Umi can smell the essence of a single scented candle on her side, only to be defeated by the musty air, yet at the very least, it provided light for Umi to see. Nevertheless, the room was still dark and Umi could only make out a few silhouettes of objects around.

There was something in the darkness, something heavy and twisted. The scene before her was monochromatic, and Umi craved to get away, yet she couldn't move.

Her eyes moved from the dull curtains to the cobwebs on every corner, towards the dusty pieces of furniture and antique ornaments, to her right where a door is already half off its hinges, to her left where there's a window that isn't fully covered with curtains but with the withering vines from outside, down to the bare and unvarnished floors, then to the ivory walls where the paint is already peeling off, and to the young man on the center of the room, looking right back at her.

As soon as their eyes met, as if on cue, the old radio suddenly played a song, replacing the quiet atmosphere with its static sound, embracing the whole room.

Guess mine is not the first heart broken♪
My eyes are not the first to cry♪
I'm not the first to know♪
There's just no getting over you♪

Umi's eyes shook. A sense of foreboding creeping into her skin. The young man in front couldn't see her, but at the same time, he can.

Seated on a gray velvet couch was a youth with captivating steel grey eyes. His unruly hair of medium length was of dark olive. His legs loosely crossed, one elbow resting on the armrest, as he propped his chin with his fist. Three buttons from the collar of his white shirt were undone, exposing his broad chest.

The young man's eyes were dancing along with every flicker of the candle, all the while savoring every delicate stroke of the painting that he drew himself. Umi couldn't look away. His eyes held a number of emotions. Longing. Grief. Hunger. Desire. Twisted.

I know I'm just a fool who's willing♪
To sit around and wait for you♪
But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do?♪
I'm hopelessly devoted to you♪

He gazed at her with deep eyes as if they coveted to peek into her soul, as though silently telling her that he had a story to tell.

The painting that was hanging on a wall in front of him is his finest work of art. An art piece that he had devoted all his talent to. A masterpiece that he wished to come alive. He considered it his best one yet, not because of how exquisite it came out, but because of who was in it.

On the canvass was a painting of a woman, someone that the young man had secretly loved, someone whom he couldn't touch, someone he had always yearned to be with.

The young man raised his chin, his eyes roaming around the woman's image. He couldn't look away, she was just too beautiful.

Umi had become that woman. In this world, she was a painting. A painting that will soon come alive once again.

The man let out a shaky breath while sincerely admiring that painting.

The woman's eyes were silver, a shade lighter compared to his. Her wavy hair flowed as though it was gently carried by the wind, her lips were as red as how he had remembered them, her skin was pale yet not paler than how she had looked in her coffin.

She was out of his league…but not for long.

But now there's nowhere to hide♪
Since you pushed my love aside♪
I'm out of my head♪