The Artist:
Three months…and yet not once did Jin try to contact me, I don’t know why I am even waiting, even after telling myself innumerable times in every possible way over these months I am still stuck in the same dreadful maze of waiting.
Hope can be such a mischievous little shit at times…
I had taken up the job at the university, my hands were almost back to full potential but my mind still clogged with pain and rage, still incompetent.
Every time I’d get ideas about looking for him, the voice in my head would speak up, telling me that Jin didn’t want me…if he did he’d try at least for once to search for me too. I learnt it the hard way that I cannot make him love me if he doesn’t want to, can’t make him come back either no matter how hard I wished for it…however just for once I want to see him, even if it is for a moment.
I want to know why he ran away leaving everything behind? Is this what he usually does? Why did he trust me so little that he couldn’t even see through my momentary snap and took it to heart when I unintentionally acted a bit rude to him?
Was I really the only one at fault that time?
If he loved me enough, he would know how it feels to see the one you love betray you like that.
Couldn’t he try just a bit more to see how I’m still hopelessly enraptured by him?
I looked at the watch, sighing as I got ready for class and left the apartment.
The university was a place where everything felt abnormal, the students I could handle for only a few of them had a curious zeal, the rest avoided meeting my eyes and I left them in their world.
Art isn’t something you can impose…you may try to inspire, motivate but never force.
But what became absolutely intolerable was the odd, inessential and completely ridiculous socializing. I religiously avoided the places where the other professors gathered, letting them flash judgemental gazes at me as I chose to pass most of my time in the large, mostly unused art room.
My professor would often laugh at me since he knew about my habit to keep rigidly to myself, calling me an unsocial ferret as he caught me hiding in the art room.
The room became an easy hideout as I set up the place to my liking, the way my studio back in Vienna had been set, grabbed what I could use there and brought in some more stuff. In the last couple of months the room had become a den of incomplete works, every stroke bending and manoeuvring itself to become a representation of my loudest secret.
Every blank canvas coloured itself in the emotions Jin had left with me and a glance across the room would show to any eye willing to see a piece of an unfinished embrace here, or a lingering kiss there, half of a caress at the nook beside the unused cabinet or a piece of a broken dream in some dusty corner.
I often laughed at myself to see how pitifully incomplete he had left me that my head and heart just couldn’t get over it no matter how perfect I looked on the outside.
Things had inadvertently fallen to a monotonous routine…but that was until I had known what actually awaited me.
Chances and coincidences are tiny little hints of the universe telling you that they got your back
I halted abruptly, my gaze drawn by a huge poster at the east side building-The Annual Music Fest that was going to start within a week and would continue through the next month, inviting all instrumentalists to perform their art from all over South Korea, and my mind instantly zapped to the thought of it being an exceptional chance for a talent like Jin’s. But remembered that he didn’t care to bother about how I wished to see his dream come true, to see that spark in his brown eyes glinting with that veiled zeal to live his dream and scolded myself for being stupid yet again.
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The Art of Dreaming || TaeJin
Fanfiction"The damage was done the moment our eyes met" The story of an artist whose search for his lost inspiration leads him to meet the waking dream he had wished upon all his life. Or is it the story of a dreamer whose need to break away from a suffocatin...
