Caught In Your Chaos ✓

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Jacob

Two Years Earlier

Everything fell in place the moment I found Vanessa. But it was all at that moment. Everything fell apart as she started searching for something in me that I wasn't capable of giving. The frequent visits to her favorite restaurant after our art sessions, painting sunsets at the beach, spending hours trying to paint her eyes eventually led to our downfall.

"Will you remember me when you visit this place in the future?" She asked me as we stepped out of the diner. Her lips pressed tightly as if that was an unintentional question.

I opened my mouth to say something but continued along the pavement. I could feel stare at the back of my head. Venessa was a great artist and an even greater company to admire. Two weeks of failure over getting the painting correct had almost made me hopeless. To top it off, Dad had been giving me a hard time accepting me as a painter. In all honesty, I was drowning in the depths of despair when Venessa looked into my eyes with her hopeful eyes and said, "I see Picasso in you, Jacob. Stop putting yourself down and paint. An artist can live without love but will be dead without a passion."

Her words gave me the validation I needed, and for that, I would always appreciate her.

We humans are so vulnerable that the stronger we desire something in life farther it gets away. That's how I felt with Vanessa. All I sought in her was an inspiration, but she started giving me more than I could return. I was seventeen, not naive to know that emotion in her eyes every time she sat in front of me. Every moment we spent together only intensified that emotion.

It scared me. It made me wonder, what if I stole that hope from her eyes which I certainly knew I would. We were so different, strangers from the beginning, knowing very well that an artist is always selfish, greedy, and unapologetically a thief. But even we are not immune to love.

Love, the word which comes in so many different versions, and each one are equally strong as the other. Yet what are the chances that it will always have to begin perfect and reach its happy ending? In our case, it was zero to negative. I admired her as much as I loved painting. She was my muse, and I had paused my feelings at that point the moment I started painting her on my canvas. Why was it so difficult for her? Maybe, our mind has no control over our hearts.

I opened the door for her as we reached my car. She settled in the passenger seat quietly. I could sense the gloominess in her eyes. She was embarrassed like the first time we met, and I approached her. The only change this time was the streaks of sadness in them. I took a deep sigh, taking a minute to settle my thoughts, and headed for the driver's side.

I had played that moment a million times in my head over the last few weeks, yet to finally face it head-on was tugging my heart in unfamiliar ways.

"Of course, I will remember you," I turned my head towards her, basking into the familiarity of those green hazel eyes for the last time. "I will always remember you. Even if you choose never to meet me again, I will still see you through your painting. And you know what's the cheesiest part of this whole ordeal." I paused to cover the tightness in my chest with positivity, just like she taught me. "That every time I will see your painting, your eyes will look back at me, and that's how we meet again."

"Jacob, you know why I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry that you couldn't finish the painting, and I'm already giving up." She squeezed her eyes tightly, and two drops of pearly tears rolled down her eyes. It burned every corner of my heart for being the reason. I brushed those tears away from her cheeks, careful not to let my touch linger on her skin.

We both knew that was the end of it. A love not reciprocated isn't worth the chase.

"I will always remember you, Jacob. I hope love finds you when you most need it, and you realize it before it's too late."

Her words didn't make sense that night. I came back with a reflection of her pain and let it settle in the depths of my memory. The truth was Venessa gave up on me. She abandoned me for love. The love I had so harshly refused to accept.

It didn't affect me instantly. It happened over the next few weeks as Venessa didn't show up for art classes, and she wasn't there to provide me validation. When even without her sitting across from me, I could paint that pain inhibiting her eyes as we said goodbyes. When at night, her eyes haunted me to the end that I had to keep looking at her painting. It made me feel empty.

I looked for her in every other face, but none filled the gaping hole in my heart. There was no one to look over my easel and intrigue me with their mystery. There was no one to smile at me even when I wasn't expecting it. There was no one to compare artists with psychopaths and every other weird thing she somehow found fascinating.

I searched for her in every possible way, not knowing exactly why I needed to see her again. It wasn't for the painting. It wasn't about artists or their muses anymore. It was about a teenage boy searching for one real emotion that reached his heart after years.

Her words kept echoing through every corner of my heart. "I hope you find love when you most need it."

Well, Vanessa, I need that love now. And I would never find it.

Love breaks you, makes you feel empty, and your Passion keeps you alive. So I stopped loving after six months of losing my chance with love, still a naive seventeen-year-old teenager.

And when I was ready to give up, I met those familiar eyes again. Only it was different this time. There was a loud screeching sound of the tires, flashes of blinding traffic, a soul ripping impact and blood, so much blood everywhere. I could see everything around me succumb to the chaos, but I was at peace just by looking into those eyes. They were not a reminiscence of someone's reflection -they were my savior. They didn't drown me -they pulled me back to the surface. They fed me with possibilities of something worth holding on to, something that even in its ugliest form appeared so beautiful.

But as cruel the destiny could be, they didn't belong to you, Vanessa. It wasn't you.

As much as I wanted to keep looking into those eyes, a sharp pain ripped through my temple. I'm pretty sure a moment before that charismatic encounter, I was so intoxicated that I could hardly keep my eyes open. Maybe, my emotional pain had manifested in the most excruciating physical pain. Whatever was the case, fate had finally found the doorsteps of my darkened soul, only for me to lose it all over again.

Will you ever come back to be my hope?

Will I finally have a chance with love again?