Infinity [h.s.]

Chapter 1 - An Abyss I couldn't resist.

Before I saw him I thought I was going to screw up my art piece for the semester. Ronsy was sure that my kick from procrastination-induced panic wouldn't save me this time. This art project hovered over me like a dark, heavy cloud who wouldn't leave. My knight in shining stunning eyes swept me off my feet. Inspiration hit me like a truck and I knew there was no going back. I needed to go home where my hands aching to paint can hold my dearest paintbrush.

Now in the comforts of my dormitory, the empty canvas from the corner of my room stared at me with hope and eager eyes. I lifted my pencil for the first time in a month, the smooth length unfamiliar in the coarse grains of my fingers. I began to sketch his magnificent face, careful to draw every single hair strand where it fell down from his head, each freckle, crease of his cheek. The sketch took its time breathing in life. The midnight oil seemed endless. The drawn sketch gazed back at me. The texture of his lips called my hand. It followed tracing each sensation...

Under the lashes of his eye.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't possible add colour to his chiseled face. I would ruin it with my lack of his brilliant colours. My hand clutched the paintbrush tighter... shaking. His eyes were too... beautiful to grasp with simple paint swatches. Ronsy's voice echoed painfully reminding me that my piece must have an element of magnificent colour. Perhaps choosing a muse as magnificent as his, I bit off more than my talents could fathom. I closed my eyes trying to remember his eyes.

I hesitated. The paintbrush brushed unevenly, a simple nude shade breathed into the painting. The colour was added carefully around the shape of his eyes. Perhaps in my hesitation I underestimated the amount of paint my brush was handling. Like rain on a window pane, the colours drip down the canvas, my eyes wishing to parallel this motion.

I shut my eyes. It's okay. It's okay. It is okay. It's just a new look. There are no mistakes in art. My hands failed to shake again. I must do this. More shades filled the gentle whites of his eyes and the soft black hairs of his eyelashes. I knew his iris was next but how could I? How could I capture... I needed the perfect colours to grasp the true beauty of his eyes. A gentle gold called me. Slowly it filled the rough, inward edge of his eye.

My breath tucked into my lungs tightly as I chose my next colour; an olive green deep enough to dive into. As the colour soiled the canvas his eyes leisurely began to stare deeper into my own. Once the colours were blended to the best judgement, I paid special attention to add each detail of his eyes, from the misplaced lines of his iris to the small, black speck which breaks it.

As if I was high on paint and midnight oil I came down, back to reality and truly began to see what I created. His eyes, it's like they were here, borrowed and all mine. I couldn't fight the proud smile.

It was only as I was on my way to campus and ready to hand in my project that I regretted not asking his permission first. Before I could even reach the art building I ran into someone. It was just my amazing luck that it had to be him. In his chivalry he picked it up but it's too late when I realised it's him.

I clutched my book tightly to my torso as he read the canvas with a face difficult to decipher. He finally looked at me, his head tilted, "Is this... me?"