balconies • seventeen

canvases & coffee (2)

masafumi komatsu - candle

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Grandpa Lee was one of the most talented people you could ever meet.

Little Jihoon would always have pride in himself whenever he bragged about his amazing grandpa to other kids, and sometimes, getting hit by the ones who don't have grandparents anymore. Most of the time people gave good responses though; jaw dropping and eyes widening, when Jihoon mentioned that his one and only grandfather, was an artist.

And he wasn't just any artist; he was one of the well known artists who was famous for not knowing what he liked to do best. Oil paintings, sculpting, carpenting, composing, everything and anything could be art at the tip of his fingers. Lee was one of the best artists representing the Busan pride, and also none other than Jihoon's pride.

Jihoon got the name Woozi from his grandfather, which even now, he never seems to understand why he was nicknamed as Woozi in the first place. But maybe something inspired his grandfather? Maybe the warmth of a fireplace in the winter. Or maybe the calm, drowsy feeling when you're about to have a good night's sleep. Or perhaps there was some  artistic value towards that name that only Grandpa Lee understood somehow, a secret nobody knows.

Obviously his grandpa is the only one who calls him Woozi, though.

Jihoon swore he saw magic when he sat down on a small stool in the garage of his grandpa's house; stunned and hypnotised by the hands of his grandfather skillfully sculpting a statue of some naked man or something, and Jihoon remembers being embarrassed just by staring at it but too amazed to look away. It wasn't the figure, but his grandfather's amazing hands working on it; shaping every curve and edge of the body as if it were about to come to life any moment.

Somehow Jihoon waited for that moment; for the figure to start moving, but it never happened since he was scolded for secretly snooping into his grandfather's studio. He was shooed away.

"Little kids can't watch." Lee says, leaning against the doorframe.

"But why?" Jihoon asks, thinking twice about throwing a fit.

"Woozi, son, I'll lend you some crayons and paper, and you draw, okay? Show me your piece once I come home." Grandpa ruffles the top of Jihoon's head and grabs a box of 48 old crayons and a few pieces of paper from the cupboard, handing them to Jihoon. He felt like a rich kid having those 48 crayons in hand.

Jihoon remembers his first ever artwork, he'd say he did a pretty good job if you asked him. It was the view of the country side, with the sun at the top right of the paper with a smiley face on it, just like how he's seen the girls in his school draw them. It just doesn't make any sense. It's not like the sun is always on the right. Nor does the sun has a smiley face either. Weird girls logic.

He doesn't want to draw robots or superheroes, although he knows them well. He wants to stay classic. A beautiful scenery is something his grandpa would love.

Clutching the piece of paper, Jihoon smiles to himself as if he achieved something, in which he did, truthfully, excited to present it to his grandfather.

So he waited, and waited, and waited, yet grandpops was nowhere near home.

7 in the evening; when the sky was almost dark but still had this pinkish hue to it; his mother bursts into the house and immediately picked him up and out of the house, muttering things under her breath. Jihoon couldn't quite understand what was happening, even if he asked he was always ignored especially when his parents were driving at a really high speed.

Jihoon finds himself being dragged into a hospital, and he never feels good around here. It's always someone dying or someone escaping an illness. Or at least that's what he's read in books. Pretty complex books for his age.

Although the drawing was clutched, still, in his hand along the whole way, something had made him drop it to the ground.

He saw Grandpa sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed, and he asked if he could wake him up. He received a no from his mother, thus Jihoon felt betrayed.

He promised he would show him his drawing. He promised he would see it. He still doesn't know why he's not allowed in the studio. He wants to learn how to do magic, just like his grandpa. There was so many things to learn.

Yet, grandpa drifted off into a deep sleep, leaving him just like that, without a word, without a promise.

"But he was healthy this morning," His mother argues, unable to swallow reality "there must be something wrong."

There was nothing wrong. He just passed away, peacefully. No pain, no diseases; and he was off to heaven. Jihoon could imagine his grandfather meeting a guy named Michael something up there. But Jihoon's not even sure if he's in heaven.

Jihoon couldn't remember the fragments of memories that's disappeared quite a lot from his head, but he remembers tucking his crayon artwork under his grandfather's arm before he left, waving goodbye to his beloved grandfather.

An amazing artist had left everyone.

Jihoon sneaked into his grandpa's studio that night, in hopes that he would appear and praise his drawing, and offer him to be an apprentice of his magic hands. Jihoon would be so honored.

It never happened, of course.

Jihoon's inspiration was his grandfather, who seemed to not care about what other people think about his work and push all opinions out, filling the whole canvas with something that points out his words and his perspective, his choice and his story. Grandpa Lee's works were striking and bizarre, but those were the unique traits of his art.

He never actually even got to tell his grandfather that he wanted to be an artist; if only grandpa Lee was still here, they would be best buds and talk about art all day. Or enemies, perhaps, since anyone could be disgusted at Jihoon's powerful, childish artworks.

Unfortunately, that's something Jihoon could never imagine happening.

He knows how blessed he is to inherit both the artistic and synesthetic genes from his grandfather.

"Happy birthday, grandpa." Jihoon smiles faintly, a bouquet of white flowers placed onto earth.

"Thank you for shining the path that I was destined to choose."

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Im still on hiatus but duDe

It rained heavily last night and it blacked out and i am so scared of the dark thus i wrote this to make me stay calm

I couldn't even study since the lights were out...obviously

The lights kept flickering last night so i got so scared and slept by the stairs which was the nearest to my parents room

Now i haven't gotten any proper sleep gr8

ANYWAYS yes im back but just for a moment i still wont read comments or reply to any of you bc i am in a rush right now but please take care of your health and get enough sleep ok ilygsm

Sorry if the chapter was a letdown i was writing with my pulse going like idk 165km/h

Wait for my return on october!!!

- Cee