0112.

vii.

vii.

His dark eyes were locked on the blank sheet of paper in front of him. It's his canvas. He always knew that writing was his art. But he also loved to dance. Loved how the people around him watched in bated breaths as his body turns into water and metal all at once. He thrives for it—the art of dancing. Of how every step seemed to pull him deeper into his own emotions. He loves how his body burns or how sweat trickles down his forehead after dancing. It was almost magical. His body is water—fluid and smooth as he rolls his body to the music in his ears. But it is also metal. Sharp and quick movements made to compliment the rhythm of the song.

But he always thought that writing was different.

Jongin started reading at a young age and by the first time he held a book in his arms, enjoying the smell of the pages and inks, he knew he was in love. He loved how the smooth texture of the hardcover book felt in his hands. The pages of the first book he held almost had yellow pages. At the edges, the color of the sun reigns and the frayed book had never looked so stunning. For the most part, he likes to think of books as a portal to another dimension. He loves to learn about the characters, the color of their eyes and their deepest insecurities. A book tells a lot of stories and Jongin uses them to escape his own world. 

Sometimes, to escape his own mind too.

He has good days. Good days are when Jongin's sitting comfortably on his desk and drowning himself with words written on paper. Where he can't seem to stop writing no matter how tired he is because the ideas kept on flowing through him, a burn of passion igniting in his chest as he writes down his art. But there are also bad days. Bad days are when Jongin is blankly staring at his laptop, fingertips hovering at the keyboard ready to type but not really knowing what. Where Jongin finds himself flipping through various books or listening to music, but not knowing what to write. It drives him mad. Jongin sighs deeply before dropping his pen on the desk and rushing out to the door.

Maybe he'll take a walk today.