Aurora | park seonghwa

08: Blue

I could do this. Even if it's messed up, I could fix it. If I can't, it'll be a learning experience, I suppose.

I got this.

I squinted my eyes at the reference picture on my phone, making sure I was concocting the right hues of pale blue on the side.

You've got this, Aurora.

I motioned the paintbrush across the surface of the paper, mapping out where each hue would go while my eyes darted between the paper and the reference picture as my paintbrush lowered, leaving a stroke of vibrant blue.

I don't got it.

Sighing, my fingers tensed around the brush and I began layering the paint, blending out the tones before it dried. I studied the reference again to make sure I had got the correct positions of the clouds and the skies.

I hadn't.

I switched my phone off, setting the paintbrush aside, dipping the pads of my fingers into the cool white paint.

Fuck it.

I dotted the paint on the paper, making out the wispy shape of a cloud from what I remembered of the reference. It didn't have to be the same. It just had to be a sky. My cloudy sky.

I grazed the edges of the white carefully with the blue from earlier, using my pinky to smoothen out the harsh edges where the paint met into a subdued symphony of colour.

I kinda got it.

"Aurora we— What are you doing?" Mom's voice suddenly sounded as the door swung open, jolting me from my reverie and knocking the cup of water over in the process.

I cursed under my breath as I hurriedly stood up, painting in my hands, narrowly avoiding the spilt water. I could register mom calling still as I quickly moved about my paints to prevent the water from getting to them. "Are you listening to me?"

I let out a frustrated sigh as I turned around. "What is it, Mom?"

"What are you doing?" She questioned as she neared me, eyes straying across the desk. "I was painting. " I responded, grabbing an old rag and wiping the desk. "Could you please be a little softer next time? I almost ruined—"

"That's not my concern, you should've answered. I kept calling and yet you ignored." Mom said in a stern voice. "And mind your tone. " She added staring around at my room.

I massaged my temples, already drained by this ordeal, "Did you need something?" At that, something clicked in her mind as her gaze snapped to mine.

"We need to talk."

Talk? Talk.

I knew in that point in time when and where I had fucked up. Really badly. I screwed my eyes shut taking a deep breath as I continued wiping my desk. "Sure." I responded, giving a nonchalant shrug.

My mind was buzzing as I crafted a few excuses and plausible answers to the likely situation she was going to question about. I leaned against my desk, sweaty palms behind my back squeezed the table edge.

My eyes followed her form as she sat at the foot of my bed, eyes glancing at my painting beside her. "I got a call from school yesterday, " She began and I winced internally, my guess being true. "You didn't attend the rest of your Tuesday classes?"

The look she gave me was clear; I shouldn't even try denying it. "Yeah, I got really sick that day so I left school."

I could deny the reasons for skipping classes, though.