Paint Me Blue

II. Can't Draw

2018

Yin sat alone on a park bench, still in his freshly pressed police uniform, his badge gleaming in the late afternoon light. It was his graduation day, and though he was an orphan with no family waiting to celebrate, he didn't mind.

He'd picked up a sandwich and iced coffee to mark the occasion, taking in the peaceful surroundings while quietly daydreaming about his future. The excitement of what lay ahead kept him smiling as he unwrapped his sandwich and took a hearty bite, savoring his modest but meaningful celebration.

Just then, a figure sat beside him, and Yin instinctively scooted over to give the stranger more space. The man cleared his throat, drawing Yin's attention. "Excuse me, Officer," he said in a voice that was both soft and oddly playful, "I might have to confess something."

Yin, mid-chew, turned toward the man, blinking in surprise. The stranger was shorter than him, with a face that seemed to balance between boyish charm and a subtle handsomeness, his bright eyes glinting with mischief. "Uh... excuse me?" Yin managed, still unsure of where this was going.

The stranger grinned and lifted a sheet of paper, holding it up in front of his face like a shield. Yin's eyes widened as he recognized his own face on the page, sketched in exquisite detail. The likeness was remarkable, almost lifelike, capturing him with a warmth and glow he hadn't realized he radiated. "I saw you sitting here, looking like you were having the best day, and... well, I had to draw you," the man confessed, lowering the paper to reveal a sheepish smile. "I'm War, by the way. And I apologize if it's weird. I should've asked first."

Yin found himself chuckling, glancing from the sketch to the artist. "No, no, it's not weird at all! That's... wow. You really do have a gift."

They exchanged introductions, and after a bit more conversation, Yin finally asked, "Could I take a photo of this? I'd love to keep it."

But War shook his head, smiling as he handed over the sketch. "You don't need a photo. I was going to give it to you anyway." He paused, his grin widening. "But on one condition... promise you'll let me draw you again sometime?"

Yin laughed, feeling oddly flattered. "Well, I think I can manage that." And just like that, what had begun as an ordinary day took on a new, unexpected turn that changed the two strangers' lives forever.

2019

War sat stiffly in the cold metal chair of the interrogation room, his hands clasped tightly before him, trying to make sense of why he'd been called in.

The door creaked open, and his heart leapt as Yin entered, his normally bright eyes now shadowed and weary. War tried to catch Yin's gaze, searching for a glimmer of familiarity, a hint of the warmth he knew, but Yin's focus was fixed elsewhere. It was as though the man across from him was a stranger, guarded and hardened, his expression betraying nothing of their history.

Yin finally looked up, and the hostility in his eyes made War's stomach twist. This was not the man he knew; this was the officer, detached and resolute. War's voice remained caught in his throat as he watched Yin slide a piece of paper toward him—a photograph of one of War's recent portraits, one he'd been commissioned to do just weeks prior, depicting an age-progressed version of a young boy.

"Are you the artist behind this, Mr. Ratsameerat?" Yin's voice was formal, icy, without even a flicker of recognition.
War felt his breath falter.

He nodded slowly, forcing himself to keep his tone calm. "Yes, I am. Is this... is this the reason I'm here? What is this about?"

Yin's jaw clenched as he shoved another photo across the table—this time, the image was brutally different. War's heart plummeted as he looked down, instantly recognizing the lifeless face sprawled on the grass, a haunting likeness to the man in his portrait.