falling for your art teacher was never a good idea. jeon jeongguk learnt that the hard way.
a blossoming friendship between an art prodigy and a typical highschool art teacher.
highest ranking:
#1 in vkook 03/04/2020
// art work on cover is not mi...
hi guys, i've missed you all so much, i'm so sorry i took forever. i've worked very hard on this chapter so please don't be silent readers, i'd love to hear your thoughts! <3
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"jeongguk?"
a distant voice beckoned.
it felt light and airy, foreign in the atmosphere that he stood lifelessly in, body transfixed in a sullen halt, stately and rigid.
in front of him was a frail, pale woman who lay in her bed, as fragile as a winter's flower.
body broken, unmoving, withering like wilting petals. aged beauty in her skin's tender caress. linen wrapped her frame in arms of a calm embrace, a singular, translucent tube hanging down the side of her face.
a lifeline.
that's what it was.
the normality of the situation was what struck him to the core. just how normal it was for a woman her age
to be in this state. to be so isolated from strength, withdrawn from power.
this was not the power he had envisioned her to possess, this was not what jeongguk had envisioned her to look like.
to be like. to present herself as.
in the paintings, he saw a bold woman.
physique antique, confident and rigid- frozen in time with an authority and triumph in every message conveyed. in the painting, in the paint she bore on her lifeless body that hung upon the dull walls of the gallery... she was strong.
she was lifeless here too.
though her soul still resided in her, her body betrayed nothing about her living, breathing, thinking as a mortal. she seemed inhumane and detached, weak and helpless. detestable. jeongguk hated it.
time, it seemed, was her immortal enemy.
jeongguk was so sure in that second that she had nothing left to physically fight for, to stay for. To hope for. it simply would not change. she wouldn't let it.
as though she would allow the life to be sucked from her. she would allow the time to ruin her, to betray her, to engulf her into a sullen oblivion. she'd welcome deaths embrace. but not without a compromise in her final moments.
her final seconds.
it was her eyes that knocked the breath from him.
they were fierce like the ocean, the oldest generation of strength, lily had them, that very confidence and cruelty. sweet, sinning comfort milled about in her iris, you would be lost in them like a shipwreck in a ferocious storm.
