his muse // kagehina (read desc)

doors | prologue

In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me, shaped and perfect in attitude and action. I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it.
– Michelangelo

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

As humans, it is only natural we are drawn to beauty, like moths drawn to the light they seek out. Every so often, we stumble upon it in our darkest of times, sometimes we are constantly yearning for it, longing to set our eyes on something so alluring.

Life is a producer, a movie maker, an artist of beauty. It gives us beautiful things, blessings, in the simplest of times. We simply have to knock at Life's door to be presented with it.

At times, life is a story of unsightly closed doors, either passing by in a blink of an eye, occasionally taking even longer, stretching out towards the horizon we will surely overcome. Sometimes, just sometimes, life is a prepossessing artwork, gently and carefully made by the attentive hands of the artist.

But however blissful life may be at moments like these, it is undoubtedly selfish. Whenever we wish to obtain something so enthralling in beauty that even the stars alone are unable to conquer it, life withholds beautiful blessings from us, behind a closed door, locking itself away, holding on to what we seek until we are worthy enough of being awarded.

Life presents people with skills to accomplish certain feats, such as one's prowess in music or dexterity in sports. Life has granted me the ability to form magnificent pieces of art with my two hands. Sculptures litter my already filled house, canvases strewn around on the floor, blotches of paint and bits of clay staining my once clean shirts. I can't help it. My house was my workplace, my blanket of security, a place where I could lock myself in for weeks on end, using my hands to do what I adored most.

Even though I knew I have been blessed with the ability to paint, to draw, to create whatever came to my mind's eye, I was never satisfied with what I produced as an artist. I chose to spend my life as an aloof and sheltered boy, never pursuing human interaction, never longing for showers of affection. I shunned away from crowds. I was known as the elusive boy who was always able to avoid girls who solely flocked around me for my looks. I was merely a bystander at school, passing up chances of relationships. It was a waste of time, I had thought. What do people love for? What do they hope to achieve by love, by loving someone, throwing away their precious diamonds of talents in order to be with another whom they devote their hearts, their hands, their lives to?

What was it that I longed for, if not love?

Often I believed it was impossible to love. I only believed in the power of what my two, big, slender hands held, and I went forth and created what human eyes desired. I only sought out the satisfaction of what my art would give me that I have been looking for for 20 years. I chased after life, to acquire what I thought what I wanted: whichever path of my life as an artist would lead me to.

Life is a close- fisted, cold- hearted little bitch. When we long to get our hands on something so indescribably beautiful and radiating with wonder that the sun is defeated in its presence, life conceals what we seek, behind a closed door. We purely need the patience to keep knocking at the door we want to be unlocked by Life before we are permitted to claim our reward.

I continued knocking, and life gave him to me.

A/N: HELLO!!!!!! this is my first fanfiction (excluding my disgusting pile of drafts) and i had a lot of fun writing this. any constructive criticism/ calling me out on any mistakes is accepted with open arms. break me down with my insecurities babes <3

have a wonderful day everyone :3 !!