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26: Eyes that haunt you

Jungkook

"No, no. That's not how you do it.", I mumbled to myself as my hands moved freely around the canvas.

The sun rays that peeked inside through the window, illuminated the entire room in their golden glow.

The numerous canvases surrounded the entire room, filling it to the brim. Some completely painted, some left in the process and the others blank. Everywhere, there were colours splattered. On the walls, on the ground. There wasn't a spot left untouched by colours.

This was my haven. My peace. My sanctum. A part of me.

The part which I hadn't touched for years after the death of my father. He was my inspiration to paint. He taught me how to and when he passed away, that part of me left along with him.  I couldn't look at the canvas anymore without thinking about the man who had taught me how to hold the brush for the first time.

But this was surprising. I hadn't expected myself to start painting during this visit to Busan. But today, when I woke up, I had a strong, a very strong urge to paint something. That's why I was inside my studio today. The room which I had locked for years had finally seen a trace of life.

When I was searching for a blank canvas earlier, I stumbled upon an old  sketch. One which brought memories of my childhood.

The sketch was gifted to me by my grandfather. Apparently, it was a very valuable masterpiece. He had told me that the art dated back 400 years. It was a very antique piece.

And I was disappointed that I had just stored it thoughtlessly inside the cabinet of my studio, hidden from the view of anyone else, even myself.

I gazed at the drawing that I had kept on the table. It was simply....beautiful.

It was protected with a golden frame but I could see that the paper inside  was very old. The edges of the paper were quite tattered and some parts had been torn.

But the art was stunning.

The artist had sketched the most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever seen. They were sharp, cold and calculating.

They were the most intriguing set of eyes that I had ever seen in my life. A type of drawing that made you want to stare at it more and more and you could find the world hidden beneath them.

I couldn't help but wonder who had sketched this beautiful piece. And for some unfathomable reason, those stunning cat-like eyes felt so familiar to me.

I stared at the canvas in front of me thoughtfully. I didn't even know what I was painting. I was just letting my hands guide the brush. The fragrance of paints helped to calm my nerves down as I concentrated on the persistent strokes of my brush.

The feeling was something akin to what a writer would experience. When there is that sudden rush of creativity, the words come falling down like a beautiful waterfall. And you just write. Write like there's no tomorrow, giving birth to an entirely different plot or a moment, something which you didn't believe yourself to be capable of writing before.

It was the same for me. Because I was painting...painting like there's no tomorrow, trying to grasp that blurry image in my head which my conscious mind was trying to acquaint itself with. But it couldn't decipher it. The image was drilled into the back of my unconscious mind and my hands seemed to know it diligently as they swiftly moved around the canvas.

After what felt like hours, I finally stopped. My eyes met the sight of a beautiful pair of hazel eyes instead.

What? I was painting eyes?