An Artist's Impression

Prologue ~ Art Gallery

Zayn's POV

I was stupid. I was stupid to think that reality and art could mix.

But then again, was I?

"And this is the final painting, an impression of two complete strangers with a complex relationship," presented Steven Woodhill, the famous artist who was showing us 'visitors' around.

I wormed my way through the crowd of people and stopped just in front of the painting, with Steven at my side. The painting was framed in a wooden frame, painted gold roughly on top. My eyes fixed on it, tracing every detail.

It was man and a woman, either side of the painting with what seemed like normal greenery in the middle of them. In the distance was the sky, dark on the outside mirroring the two people and then warm in the midde.

It was well done to say the least, each detail done to it's finest but I had seen things like this before yet they didn't catch my attention like this one did.

I hardly noticed the rest of the crowd moving onto the gift shop at the end of the hall as my eyes went over and over the painting.

"I recognise you." I jumped in surprise and turned round, coming face to face with Steven Woodhill himself. I cleared my throat not really sure what to say. It wasn't everyday a famous painter recognised you.

"Look," he said, pointing at the painting I had just been looking at," look at the man, it's you." My eyes widened in surprise and I moved closer towards the painting, careful not to get too close so I would touch it.

The features on the man in the painting were like mine. Strong cheekbones, dark eyes, those were the things that many of my friends commented about and if Steven was right, saying that I was the 'model' in this painting, he had noticed those features also.

"But I don't understand, I have only been to Paris once and that was--" "One year ago?" Steven interrupted me. I slowly nodded my head but inside, I was confused as fuck.

We both turned to look back at the painting but this time my eyes were trailing towards the girl in the painting. Dark, black, long hair trailing down her side. Her green eyes glistening and as soon as I saw them I was transfixed. 

How was it possible to paint eyes like these? I was captivated by that look she was giving me and with that, she intrigued me. She didn't look happy, that was for sure and the dark and cloudy background behind her definitely reflected the mood on her face but it was the same for me.

Dark and sour expression, my eyes were in complete contrast to hers; mine were dull and forlorn whereas hers were glistening. But somehow I knew why my eyes were like that. When I had gone to Paris, I was coming back from a path in my history that I didn't ever want to go back to.

"But how did you get us for that long? I mean, I certainly was not standing in that position for ages," I asked Steven. He let out a low chuckle," ah, I am not sure what century you are from but in this century, we have something called cameras."

My cheeks heated with embarrassment and I looked down at the floor wondering how I had come up with a stupid question like that. "Sorry about that but I still don't quite understand, why did you even paint us? Let alone me?" I asked.

Steven sighed and placed his hand on the small of my back. "Here, read this and maybe you will understand," he said, looking over at the plaque explaining the painting.

12th May 2011, sunny afternoon in Paris.

Dark expressions, dark hair, dark history is what I first thought of when I captured this image. With everything bright and sunny surrounding these two strangers, they seemed to be like outcasts. Everyone around them had smiles on their faces yet these two people were gloomy and mysterious. Maybe it was the expressions they were wearing on their faces, reflecting each others emotions or that it was just the simple flash of imagination which sparked in my mind to create this piece but from one look, I got the impression that these two people had some complex relationship.  

I read it again and then again, and then one more time. I didn't know what to think, what to do. Steven was still watching me, quite intently and I just turned to him, more confused then ever.

"You are still confused aren't you?" he sighed. I nodded and ran my hand through my dark quiff. "To be honest, I am still confused as to why I painted you two but there is something. There is something there which just intrigued me and I don't know whether it was my imagination or not but there was something."

Steven paused and there was silence between us as our eyes went back to the painting. "I have to go but... Give what I said a thought, you never know," he said winking and then walked away.

"Oh wait!" I called and Steven turned round swiftly. "Er, do you know where I can get a brochure?" I asked. Steven chuckled and pointed to the exit. I nodded in gratitude and walked away, leaving Steven and the painting.

I clasped the brochure in my head, flicking through the pages quickly until I landed on the page with the painting of 'me' on it. I ran my finger down the page until it stopped just underneath the line:

I got the impression that these two people had a complex relationship.

What did he mean by that? Friend relationship? Long-lost sibling relationship or even love relationship? Whatever the artist got the impression of, I found somehow inside me an acceleration in thoughts.

I wanted to find her.

I needed to find her.

I had to find her.

*~*~*

God, the last line sounds a bit stalkerish doesn't it!

On another hand, I hoped you all liked the first chapter/prologue thingy. Show your support by simply clicking the VOTE button to the left (or bottom if you are reading this on a phone) of your screen!

Love you all loads,

M x