4. Your Masterpiece

279 42 41
                                                  

The Dreamer:

His eyes stayed on me after the words left my mouth, and I countered his heavy gaze this time, not shying away anymore.

I’m going to keep this easy, not get too enraptured, live this as long as it lasts, it’s just a getaway after all and is way too intoxicating to push away, indulging a little won’t hurt...

“Let’s go, I am quite curious about how gifted those hands actually are” I teased, following up with his words, greatly amused at how someone who had the audacity to stalk me and be this clingy all day could also look this flustered as I took up the reins of his extravagant flirting in my hands.

I gave him a smile and saw his lip curve up at one corner before he put his foot on the gas, giving a short nod as the car raced into the shadowy streets. The night, young and blissful, dappled with colourful lights as time buzzed by and I felt a surreal thrill take over my heart. I stole glances of the man beside me, thinking my brain must be playing games because I just cannot seem to deny the fact of how comfortable and adored he makes me feel when it’s practically only been a day that I’ve known him.

What is this bizarre pull that I just cannot seem to be able to deny?

As if your soul has been shadowing me through all those difficult days to pull me closer and closer, drawing incessantly on that red thread of fate to call me to yourself...

He turned, no smirk or inquiry, only that gaze wondering at me for a moment and I stayed hypnotized. I could tell a million things were running through his mind, well, a million were running through mine as well. Fear being the dominant one, strangely, it wasn’t him I was fearful of but myself.

My stupid heart was slipping away without my consent. Eager to have that gaze forever on myself, hungry to be loved, mad in its need to feel alive again.

Foolish...so foolish...when will you learn to be cold? When will you learn to protect yourself?




His studio looked large and empty, however turned out to be quite well furnished, a penthouse actually with large bay windows. The floorboards were rich but worn out, the little bit of wall I could trace was discoloured with paint at places, the entire place gave a rusty brick-bared unkempt look yet was impeccably clean.

There were large canvases with pensive colours and stirring creations leaning against the walls.

“Coffee?” He spoke at my shoulder before walking into the apartment.

“Yeah sure” my eyes stayed entranced with the marvellous strokes he must have spent hours to grace the canvas, such a happy harmony of dream and reality portrayed right in front of my eyes.

Although I am no artist, it isn’t difficult to judge a gift.

My eyes moved to his hands as I walked closer to watch him brew the coffee.

“It must feel like a super power right? Having such hands” I teased him taking a seat on one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

“You’d know better” he spoke without looking at me as he poured the liquor into cups “does it feel like a super power when you play the piano?”

I stunned a bit, was he seriously comparing his calibre with my mere tinkling with the keys?

“Non-sense” I scoff “I just play whatever comes to my heart”

“And I paint whatever stirs mine” he set his palms on the patterned granite, countering my gaze with an eerie glint in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter if you’re making money out of it or gaining acclamation” his voice dips to bring in a unique heaviness “if you’re doing it with your heart, if you can feel the high it sets within and it makes you soar, gives you a taste of that absolute freedom” he leans down to support himself on his elbows, resting his face just in line with mine while I stared at him in wide-eyed wonder “then it’s your gift all the same.”

The Art of Dreaming || TaeJinWhere stories live. Discover now