𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

OVER : HYUNCHAN

♡

being a writer was hard. he was constantly flipping through pages of unfinished drafts, half-finished or just plain paragraphs in the spur of the moment. it took quite a lot of feverish thinking before he could pen down a single word. there had been months where his shadowy figure looked over the typewriter, there had been days where his hands hovered over his keyboard, wondering how else to continue. there had been hours where he spent, hunched over his work desk, piles of books with yellowed pages, pill bottles littered over the duty ground.

he received many praise over the span of his years writing. readers would often recommend his books to others and keep his name on the tip of their tongues. however, such approval and acceptance from the public did little to nothing to kill the hollowing emptiness that came from time to time, like a seed of evil that planted itself steadily in his heart.

he wasn't always like this, when he had her around. he felt happy, free. whenever he was with her, he felt like flying. it was something so beautiful he was able to write a story from it. so, so, painfully innocent. how could it turn so rotten in a matter of seconds?

♡

" his penned medication was his salvation. "

♡

art don't sell sometimes. he could be painting portraits after portraits, drawing after drawing and sketch after sketch. yet, his efforts were hardly recognized. he assumed, at such a young age that starved artists don't exist, they were simply just underapprrcqiated. ever since he started sketching on the sheets of newspapers from the raw age of 5, his father knew that his son had a very special gift.

if only the world knew how special it was.

it was getting harder to stay sane, some days, he locked himself up in the attic, letting the sun that streamed through the window be one of his only source of sanity. something that reminded him that he was alive and breathing in this very surreal world. he felt detached when his hands left the familiar rounded brush, a disconnection from reality when he was left to drown in his thoughts.

he graduated from art school not too long ago. feeling astray and lost, he didn't know what to do but  isolate himself and paint.

just keep painting, and when he's finally done, maybe someone would buy them from him.

his days at school were a blur, but he could fondly remember that special someone that stole a place in his heart even after just a glimpse. someone from the university next to his, a place for English majors if he wasn't wrong.

he spotted a figure rushing towards the swings, scruffy brown hair and calm eyes, a charming smile on his face as he wondered if he had just witnessed the world's most beautiful man.

he handed the girl a small book that looked vintage, with grid lines on the inside and reached out bus hand to trap hers. they walked hand-in-hand, leaving him in awe.

he stopped in his tracks momentarily, turning back and cocking his head to the side.

" hi. " he waved,and continued walking.

it's been a few years now.

he wonders if he still remembers him.