[🌙]
[Y/N's POV]
47 days.
An anxious sigh escaped from my dry lips. I was in Beomgyu's balcony, trying to get my mind off random things. I have been staring at the timer on my wrist. It's been 2 weeks passed.
"Am I doing good?" I asked the heavens. "Do you see me trying? I really don't know what my next plan is."
Nothing pitched back to me. I wished God could just speak, even just a word or two in my mind. I badly needed a guide. I didn't think I was doing my job right.
"God," I leaned towards the railings. "Come on, please, talk to me. What am I supposed to do?"
Do I just keep going until Beomgyu realizes that he's worthy of living? Is that just how it goes? Because I don't think two months would be enough to heal someone who's been broken inside. I didn't intend to say that I didn't see any progress— of course, there were. However, if he snaps back into the dark reality after I leave, who's going to help him?
"Is it enough?" I asked once again.
I only heard the buzzing sounds from the city ahead. I admire how the lights casted a hazy glow amongst the dark silhouettes of the buildings. I could see cars dashing by, their headlights flooding the highway. Rays of orange illuminated from the array of lampposts. Almost all the stores were already closed. It was 11 PM.
"If I somehow make it to heaven, will I see my loved ones there? Don't I get to visit earth as an angel or spirit anymore?"
I rested my chin to my palm. I thought about my pets, my deceased relatives, and parted friends. I wonder whom amongst them were in paradise. Did anyone ever get tossed to hell?
"What if I come face to face with a demon instead?" I muttered, shivering. "Who knows what lifetime of suffering awaits for me in that place."
I admit, I wasn't much of a religious person growing up. I've lost interest long ago; considering that most God-fearing people that I've met were either judgemental or fakes. I reasoned, if criticizing other people's business because you were trying to help them to get to heaven was the standard of being clean and saved, then I didn't want to become one.
"Heaven and hell, there's one thing in between." I murmured. "Purgatory. What if this is purgatory? God tests me one more time to see which realm fits me best."
My hands found their way into rubbing my face in distress. I've been thinking the same thing over and over. As much as I wanted to make the most of my time here, I'd always find myself getting consumed by pessimism.
Clang!
I turned my head to the source of the sound. I spotted Beomgyu in the living room, sitting on the couch, back facing me. There was a canvas in front of him and he was dragging a paintbrush all over the surface. I didn't know what he was trying to make; but judging from the fallen cans of paint and mediums, I bet he was serious and dedicated.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of my footsteps were oddly loud against the floor tonight. It might be because none of us were speaking, but to me, it felt uncomfortable.
Beomgyu didn't seem to hear me as he didn't turn. He kept going; dipping the brush in dirty water, swirling it around a color, and then gliding it across the fabric. I took a closer look.
It was a portrait of a woman. It looked messy, drips of acrylic and smudges everywhere, as if he was depicting a rough expressionism with a hint of abstract. He painted flowers on random spots over the girl's face. There were blue and white feathers around too. It was a marvelous contrast, considering that the background was black.
"Uh.." I squinted my eyes. "..isn't that me..?"
The more his subject came to life, the more I learned that the features resembled my own. Her hair, her face.. He was painting me.
"It couldn't be.." I whispered. "..oh, you just don't assume everything's about you, Y/N.."
Slightly embarrassed, I walked myself to the guest room. Maybe I needed sleep. I've been thinking way too much.
As I laid down, my eyes caught the silver angel figurine staring down at me from the top of the dresser. I turned away, uninterested.
I don't have time for that.
[Beomgyu's POV]
Thud!
I heard a door slam shut, highly from Y/N's room. I smiled to myself. I just felt her standing behind me a moment ago. I didn't notice that she already left.
I knew she was watching me and I didn't mind. I didn't want to turn and confront her about it, thinking it might scare or shame her away.
"Ah.." I tiredly exhaled. "Two weeks, buckaroo.. Two weeks being artless, couldn't believe I lived off of that.."
To be fair, before, I'd feel like losing my mind if I didn't dare to pick up a brush or a pencil within a day. Now that I've survived without for so long, I was surprised. I thought I'd be in pain or that my conscience would kick in. But learning that I've done better things during the absence of art, I felt comforted and confident.
"Maybe.. Maybe Y/N was right.." I sucked on my teeth. "Redirecting myself to something else could ease my burden.. Yeah.."
I took the idea as a break from the suffocating passion. I figured, if I didn't let Y/N stay with me, God knows what would I've been doing today.
She was.. How do I say it..?
A miracle. Just when I was about to end everything, she showed up and now she's my light in the dark. Cringeworthy as it may seem, but I'm deeply grateful that she came around. Never have I thought about reliving my childhood, feeling the wonderful nostalgia, and see things beautifully before.
"What an angel," I fondly chuckled, shaking my head. "That's what you are, Y/N. An angel."
I kept going with my business. Funny how Y/N guessed it right; I was painting her.
Why?
Why not?
After all, she was the reason why I felt like making art tonight. As she was in my balcony, I set up in the living room, shooting occasional glances at her so I could somehow get her features right. She's dazzling. I've never felt so calm. Usually, I'd fret because I wanted to get things right, especially the subject. But when painting her, I just wanted to enjoy the flow.
"She's amazing," I told myself. "Giving me such an impact in just two weeks. I wonder when she'll leave."
It struck me. I paused, paintbrush dotted still on the canvas. My mood plummeted down the second I thought about her leaving. Yes, she was only supposed to stay until she finds her own flat. But.. I've become attached.
I know it was such a fragile side of me. However, never in my life have I encountered a person who made me feel good in many ways— wholesome ways.
"Should I.. Should I ask her to stay longer..?" I dropped the brush. "..it wouldn't kill if she lingers a bit more, right..?"
I might need a lot of time adjusting once she's gone. There's still so much I haven't learned about her, but for me, it didn't matter. I trust her. She felt as if she were a safe place. I don't know where else I could find a person who'll stand by me the way she does.
I couldn't deny.
I'm happier and better with her.