•𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫•|•Seakeen/Aunashi

Chapter 1: New Friend

𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷𝟾, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟻  (𝚃𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢)

In the quiet sanctuary of his creative space, Keen sat immersed in a world of contemplation, his gaze fixed on the blank page of his notebook. The weight of his thoughts hung in the air.

"A song about love that can't be explained, just like a painting," Keen murmured, his voice a whisper that echoed in the quietness of the room.
The pen in his hand tapped rhythmically on the table, a steady beat that punctuated the silence with a faint yet persistent sound.

Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, Keen posed a question to the empty room, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "What can the title be?" His voice was soft, almost a murmur to himself. His eyes drifted upwards, drawn to the ceiling above, only to be met with the dazzling brilliance of a chandelier that bathed the room in a cascade of light. The sudden glare caught him off guard, momentarily blinding him with its radiance.

With a soft groan, he gently massaged his eyes, attempting to alleviate the discomfort that lingered. As he tentatively opened his eyes, a sliver of light pierced through, casting a hazy glow that danced in his vision. The remnants of the chandelier's brilliance lingered, a reminder of the unexpected intrusion of light into his thoughts.

Blinking away the afterimage of the chandelier, Keen refocused his attention on the task at hand, his gaze returning to the stark emptiness of the notebook before him.

The realization of the chandelier's presence in his room dawned on him, prompting a quizzical frown to crease his brow. "Arghh. Who even puts a chandelier in their bedroom?" he mused, a touch of incredulity coloring his words.

Shaking off the distraction. His gaze drifted downward, landing on the exquisite marble tiles that graced the floor of his room. The intricate patterns and elegant design of the tiles caught his eye, drawing a sense of appreciation from him. "Wait. Did I just found out that my floor is so beautiful?" Keen remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Returning to the matter of the title, Keen's thoughts meandered through the possibilities, each idea scrutinized and discarded in turn. "The title? Hmm... What about 'My love can't be explained just like a painting'?" he pondered aloud, the words rolling off his tongue in contemplative tones. However, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind, a realization that the title might reveal too much, potentially deterring listeners from exploring the depths of his music. "But that's too long," Keen sighed, a note of frustration lacing his words. "And the title describes what my song is... People won't listen to it..." The challenge of encapsulating the essence of his song in a succinct yet intriguing title loomed before him, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

[Keen's POV]
As I sat in my room, lost in a whirlwind of creativity and confusion, the title of my song played on a loop in my mind. "Painting Love? Love Painting? Wait, what?" The words danced around my thoughts, a puzzle I couldn't quite solve. How could one capture the essence of love in a painting, when love itself defied description? The contradiction tugged at the corners of my consciousness, leaving me in a state of perplexity. "Painting love? What? Love can't be described like a painting, then how can you paint love? What?" I muttered to myself, the questions lingering in the air like an unsolvable riddle. "Huuuuhhhh???" I sighed, a mix of frustration and curiosity swirling within me.

Feeling the pang of hunger gnawing at my stomach, I made a mental note to revisit the title later. With a decisive gesture, I carefully placed the pen back in my notebook and closed it, a temporary respite from my creative musings. The room fell into a hushed quietness as I made my way out of my room and descended the stairs, drawn by the inviting aroma of my mother's cooking.