Empty Canvas

8 - Start of an end...

Have you ever wondered that maybe the universe fights for souls to be together? I mean some things are too strange and strong to be a coincidence. Good hearts are meant to win in the end. Thorns may claim themselves as stronger for the harshness they carry, but the innocent flowers are the only ones that pave their path. 

So, just take a deep breath and remind yourself of all the times you've made it through all the tough times of your life. Life must have thrown so much at you but you still stood your ground not giving up which made the universe take a bow to your bravery and let you have what you have been fighting for. 

You just have to trust, trust that the struggle is part of the process, and as long as you don't give up, as long as you keep pushing forward, no matter how dark the night is, the sun will rise when the time comes, no matter what, the universe has to give up and you will make it till the end. And when you do, you will see that the other half of your soul is waiting for you there, and they have gone through the same just like you, for you, and you were never alone in the first place. 

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To say Bright was shocked was an understatement when Win dragged him into his penthouse. The place where he was stepping for the first time, no matter how many times Bright asked Win never let him come here. He was more shocked when Win opened another room in his house and switched on the lights. It was paintings, no, it was Win's paintings which Win always kept as a mystery, Bright always wanted to see them but Win kept it hidden and never showed even a single painting.

Bright was awe-struck by the paintings he was looking at, they all had a story, which he couldn't tell at first look but when one sees them closely, each painting had a story. He stops in front of a canvas which was filled with dandelions and weeds flying around in the painting, the background is a night, and the skies are filled with stars, but there is this one star that looks like a broken star falling from the sky and a dandelion weed was shown flying up in the heaven at the same time as if both were trying to fulfill the wishes at the same time in their own way.

Both were broken and separated from their home, however, none looked regretful. The way they were painted it seemed so painful yet peaceful. Bright moved around the studio and his eyes fell on one painting that turned his world upside down. It was him, Win had painted him, and it wasn't any recent picture painted. It was him looking backward over his shoulder, his face covered with a mask, his hair bangs covering his forehead, the only thing visible was his green eyes and he was staring from the painting as if he was looking at someone and that image triggered his memory.

Bright tried so hard to convey his thoughts, but it was hard because he didn't understand his thoughts. Everything seemed to be running through his head and he couldn't keep up. It was like air rushing through his ears. He couldn't grab a hold of anything. Everything around him was fading as this grip of panic and terror encompassed his brain.

Memories of excruciating pain and screams echoed through his head, and he was having a hard time breathing. He felt dizzy when a hand touched his arm and a distant voice called to him.

"No, you don't get to pass out this soon, open your eyes and look more," said Win dragging Bright by his wrist across the room and unveiling some other canvases. Bright looked and it was all him and none of it was recent paintings. Every painting has a mark of the year and there were eight paintings one after the other showing Bright aging from youth to adult and the way Win has captured his images, even the DSLR photographs don't do justice to his pictures.

Win knows what he was doing, he knows Bright was having a panic attack and he might pass out after seeing all this but he was here, and he will take care of him. But Bright doesn't get to insult his feelings and ghost him like that.