𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔊𝔦𝔯𝔩 ♂ / ♀

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖊

THE DAMP CANVAS IS splattered with different colorful paints. The image formed is a simple painting of a landscape. Different shades of green, blue, brown, and other natural colors are featured on the simple image. The art held the simplicity of nature.

Jean stretched from his stiff position, and heard his shoulders and back pop, earning a satisfied moan from him. The strain of his muscles immediately relaxed, and it felt nice.

The unfinished painting needs more finishing touches and it would be ready. Jean looked at the art and smiled in satisfaction. He pulled up an all nightier, enabling him to finish the major details of the art.

His phone rang with a dull ring tone, resembling a call from a friend. He took the gadget that's been resting on a nearby desk, not bothering to read the contact's name as he pressed the answer button. He heard a shuffle from the other side and later on, it spoke with a gentle voice. Judging from the enthusiastic and kind voice of the caller, no wonder, it's his best friend.

"Hey, Jean!" the man said gleefully; Jean can already imagine the person's face upon hearing the tone of his voice.

"Marco, yo," he answered with a tired voice, he's been up the whole night to finish the canvas. His overall senses are tired, and he badly needs to rest.

"What's up? Heard that your client needs the art tomorrow."

He hummed. "I'm finishing the art. Only a few touches are needed. How about you?"

"Nothing much... you sound tired. You didn't sleep?" he heard some shuffles again, and a sigh can be heard from Marco.

"Hm, yeah. I need some fucking sleep but I think I can't... hold up for a minute, need to wash my hands." he said; putting the call on hold and removed the paint-smeared apron and hung it on the hook attached on the wall. He then left the room and went towards the bathroom to wash his hands. It took minutes to remove the paint from his skin, and by the time he dried his hands, they are reddened.

He took the phone that's resting on the table. "Back,"

"There's a new café near your apartment. In fact, today is their opening day. Wanna come?" Marco asks.

"Meet ya outside in ten minutes then."

"Okay, bye."

He hang up the call and went for a shower.

Jean took a quick shower, enough for him to feel clean and refreshed. Although he hadn't slept last night, he felt rejuvenated for some unexplainable reason. He thought that it was from the cold shower he got, but no. Shrugging the thought off, he wrapped the towel on his waist and went in his room.

It always had taken his attention every time he would enter his room. The simple sketch of a girl's portrait is displayed on his bedside table, drawn with charcoal and graphite pencil. A pure monochrome featuring the image. The art style is evident that it was drawn during his amateur years. It distinguished the difference of his skill before. The sketch that was made way back from his teenage self is impeccably wondrous.

The slim face of the girl is drawn perfectly by its curves and lines, a small, yet genuine smile etched on her face, while her eyes give a motherly feel. Her eyes are drawn ideally with irises that are colored into a pitch black, like a black pearl from under the sea. Her face is pretty, and what amazed Jean is that her hair is like a weaved obsidian threads: smooth, silky, and shiny. He always fantasized what would it feel if he'd run his fingers through those beautiful locks.

His short day dreaming was cut short when he remembered that he would be meeting up with Marco. He muttered out a profanity and hurried his steps toward his wardrobe. Pulled out some casual clothes, then a checkered scarf that was made by his mother. He made an effort to comb his hair neatly, and following with the spray of his regular body mist.