Jake has a lover from the past, though he remembers her in this life too. She was his reasons for all inspiration, his work of art, and his to bring him pain. Yet what separates them was this new life.
When he does manages to find her, will she reco...
Right after work, your feet unconsciously led you to the door of a serene flower shop. You gripped your phone with a shaky hand, checking the addressing for the 10th time by now. Work was nothing out of the ordinary, though you couldn't help but be on edge the entire time because of the event that played out last night.
Strange thoughts kept you company while you slept, and while you worked. It was almost an obsession with no certain meaning, and that scared you to know how inevitable it was–hence why your impulsion down right took you to this man's work place.
Though what scared you even more, was to admit that you didn't merely come here for the image alone. You've garnered to come straight with this unfamiliar feeling that you developed upon seeing the man, if that alone wasn't terrifying enough, you were now trying to work out the sentences that you would soon deliver to Jake, himself—and that was if he was even at this address you were given.
You didn't know the man, you'd only seen him for three seconds max before he'd looked away. But then again, when were you never doing debatable shits? Something in you just kept on angrily asking and begging yourself to do something, if you don't look for him, he'll just occupy the cluttered space in your head, you'll resort back to the thoughts of him, and eventually go mad—you were already going crazy over the damn tattoo.
He was the answer to all your questions. Well, to the only question that really matters anyway, the one that'd been not far from taunting you all your life. Where did that image come from? Who is she? What happened to her? Where have you seen her? You needed to know.
Your eyes wandered at the shop's sign, it was the address that Namjoon had given you, but then it made no sense for it to be a flower shop. You were under the influence that Jake was an artist, a person who practiced the execution of painting in the name of art, not a flourist.
