(I/H) 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 || mewgulf

sunday.

It was a Sunday. A plain, yet beautiful Sunday.

Sun was draping its golden fabric down the pebbled, tortuous paths of rural Chiang Saen as light filtered itself through the emerald shades of leaves. Small town, small people, bustling with orders in the markets and soft chitter-chatter when they traded their goods. The market seemed more peaceful than the other days, even though the looming clocktower had hit its signature eight bells a while ago.

Maybe it was simply Sunday, and people like to laze around on Sundays.

For Mew Suppasit, everyday was just another busy time. As the one and only artist residing in this seemingly small town, people came to his house for paintings whether night or day, even if he was ready to close his shop, there would still be a few more folks lingering, not ready to leave his tired self alone. Therefore, his place was never really out of anything since people would always pay a hefty amount for his art, although he would always insist on receiving a little. For Mew, he never considered himself working to earn, but doing to satisfy. Painting, to him, wasn't just sit down and do the job properly, but rather letting his mind go wild and the clickery clacks he earned would be what he rewarded himself with.

Art was his soul and his forever religion.

Maybe that was the reason he never considered himself as dependent and marrying was always out of his books. Don't get him wrong though, he wasn't at all ugly since the gossips around him and fawning of women whenever he went out to fetch his groceries were just in his proximity. His soft obsidian hair and the mysterious hazelnut brown orbs that glisten when he dazzled his notoriously heart-warming smile, he heard it all coming from them. However, he didn't care less. Although many tried, he all turned them down. Maybe he didn't feel it with anybody he chose, or if he did, he might end up as the one being hurt. He just didn't need anyone except Art.

Until, his paintbrush stopped on the coffee sheet of paper.

Mew furiously ruffled his hair as he clenched his teeth in frustration when on this day, this beautifully peaceful Sunday, he didn't know what else to put on his lovely canvas. For the past few hours, his mind had been rushing for new ideas, but for anything that just randomly popped up in the artist's mind only came as... plain. So so plain that he suddenly looked outside, only to be faced with a sickeningly boring Sunday. Still the beautiful sunlight that created intricate patterns adorning his yard, still the baby green grass that held dearly droplets of morning mist and still, the repetitive life of every individual in this town, this safe yet dull and boring town.

Mew sighed, he needed something new, something refreshing.

🍊

"Oh my, isn't that Monsieur Suppasit?"

Mew picked up a slightly high-pitched voice of a girl from afar when he was crumbling stale bread in his hands to feed the ducks floating gracefully in the pond. Whenever he needed to clear his mind or find inspiration, he would let his feet wander in the bustling streets of Chiang Saen. The pebbled paths that crunched softly under his worn soles, market roses and camellias dazzled its pinkish hues in the chestnut-brown baskets and the fragrant aroma of freshly baked rolls from the bakery would always send him some kind of zap to the continuously working mind he possessed. However, he didn't know why the sceneries just seemed too mediocre today, even the glistening turquoise pond he liked morphed itself into a dull scenery in front of his eyes. Whatever he was encountering, he needed it to stop. Or else he would hate it if the paintings in the future were merely fabrications of his boredom.

"Hey Pi,"

Mew averted his gaze from the fluffy yellow duckling towards the soft voice. A bit startled, yet he smiled gladly afterwards upon recognizing the familiar frame. Brown, sun-matted hair and round specs while a simple moss-coloured shirt highlighted his perfect upper torso, Tul walked calmly and sat down the grass next to his friend.

Still knee-high to a grasshopper, Tul was his bestest mate and the older was genuinely surprised upon realising they were still the two wanderlust boys with no boots and wrinkling toes underwater. This was their usual hangout spot, where each and every of their so-called wicked schemes take form, from sneaking the usual sugar-coated cherries at the candy shop to fighting for a seat behind the buckboard to bathe in the purplish orange as the sun set in their twinkling orbs. Their childhood started here, or rather, Mew's started when Tul unknowingly stepped into his life. Therefore, upon seeing their landmark turned into something so earthly, Mew couldn't help but feel a pang to the chest. It was as if denying his own hometown. 

"What brings you here?" Mew asked, his eyes trailed back to the ducklings still fighting for the piece of soaked bread. Not waiting for the older to signal him, Tul began to take the roll and teared a chunk to feed the ducks, flapping their wings at the treat.

"It's our place, why can't I come?" Tul threw a piece and it floated on the clear water a few seconds before the mother duck dipped her head down on it. "Rarely see you outside."

"Something on my mind," Mew let out a breathy laugh. He just wanted to escape from the bustling crowds and the outdoorsy fawning. Sometimes being a little selfish wouldn't hurt. However, being with Tul was something he couldn't shoo away and would always be that way. Maybe it was the hospitality that didn't overwhelm him whenever he talked or how the younger would be ready to lend an ear for Mew, either work or leisure. Feeling grateful, Mew heaved a sigh and fluttered his eyes close to bathe himself in the serenity amidst the late morning market chats. Water surrounding his cool feet when his eyes caught a glimpse of colorful round rocks shimmering in the lemon light, drippling a note or two to every swaying motion of Tul's leg...

Not quite what he had imagined, yet he was probably capable of finding his muse after all.