Painting Blank (BTS Jeon Jungkook)

5: My Spark

"CEO Jungkook! CEO Jungkook!" There's a noise coming from somewhere, and the place I'm lying on is as hard as a rock.

Ignoring the noise, I cuddle into the warm object in front of me more.

Wait... didn't I fall asleep in an elevator?

"CEO!" The man's voice cheers, and I can hear the clear sound of the doors opening.

My eyes flutter open as well, and I wake up face to face with Jungkook. His breath hits my top lip as he still sleeps.

"Ah-!" I screech on impulse, shoving him away from me. He slides back, his head hitting the wall behind him. He groans in pain as he clutches his head.

I jump to my feet, standing dizzy as I look at the open elevator doors. I run my hand through my hair as I see Secretary Kim and about five maintenance men stand in the doorway.

"I... I uh," My sentences aren't forming correctly as I try to wake myself up, turning to Jungkook who's writhing in pain. "I'm going home for the day. If you need me, please contact me there, goodbye!"

With those final words, I bolt out of the doors, rushing to get home. It's only when I'm halfway home that I notice I'm wearing another piece of clothing that I didn't have on yesterday.

My arms must have slid into his suit jacket last night, because I'm wearing it right now.

"Shoot," I scold myself. "He'll want this back. Maybe he won't accuse me of stealing."

My mind flashes back to the elevator when I woke up. His face was so close to mine, that if I had wanted to kiss him, I would've needed to move just an inch.

I hit my cheeks lightly with my hands. "How cold was I last night to want to snuggle into him?" I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

I eventually make it to my apartment, turning the key and walking inside. My feet carry me to my couch and I plop down, relaxing for once.

The living room is filled with pictures I've painted hanging on the walls and lying in piles on the floor. There must be at least twenty, and each one is colorful, broadcasting my bright personality. Empty tubes and buckets of paint line the walls, reminding me that I need to clean soon.

It turns out that my pizza in the fridge was fine, so I eat it as soon as I can. I change into some comfortable clothes, neatly hanging Jungkook's jacket on a hanger in the wardrobe. I slide my dirty painting apron on, and I make my way to my studio.

The room itself is my greatest pride, with there being no bed or furniture in the room at all. The only objects in the space are an easel, a cart filled with paints and brushes, and an abundance of blank canvases.

The floor is even covered in plastic, so that I don't ruin the wood furnishing. More paintings hang in this room as well, with these being my most prideful ones that I only painted when I was extremely happy.

I sit at the stool infront of the easel, staring at the blank canvas. Normally, when I would look at a blank canvas, I'd envision what I'd paint there: a sunset, mountains, a couple in love, animals, etc. For weeks now however, every blank canvas that's been put in front of me has been... well, blank.

No inspiration, no motivation, no creativity. I've lost my spark.

I sigh, frustratingly running my hands through my hair. I missed the scent of the fresh paints, and even the feeling of washing out brushes after I'd finished a work. It made me wonder, will I ever paint again?