Battered Façades - Story of the Painter 1/3
Battered Façades - The Painter's Story
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama
Pairing/Characters: Hidden.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Everyone has their secrets, especially when you're as talented as Sanghyun.
Because nobody is perfect, even if they seem perfect.
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He can't breathe, he's choking, drowning in his lack of words, and when he snaps his eyes open and sits straight up, all he hears are screams as his nose is filled with the stench of smoke, and ash fills his mouth, he blinks away cold tears. It's been a while since this dream, he thinks bitterly.
He is almost suffocating by the time he considers getting out of bed, realizing that this might be the last time he'll get any sleep tonight, he shakes his head and gets out of bed reluctantly, unwilling to part with the warm softness of his covers.
But still he stands on the cold Marble floor, as he walks up to his mirror, he notes the dark circles and frowns, before he tugs his collar a bit down, and flinches at the sight before covering it up quickly.
He sighs, as a painful thought clouds his mind, 'the scar is throbbing just like that night, it's as if the event happened yesterday, instead of years ago' he snorts, and decides that if he won't be able to sleep, he might as well drink himself to unconsciousness, as he heads to his living room to fetch the bottle of red wine, and leans his head against the oak door.
He doesn't want to drink, the headache afterwards was not worth it, and would indefinitely bother him throughout his work, and he was no tea or herbs that could ease the headache.
He sighs, and leans away from the door, and goes to the chair by the window, and uncorks the bottle. He brings it to his lips as a sardonic thought fills his mind for a moment 'Well, at least this way I'll get a dreamless sleep' and chugs down the burning-cool liquid as it flows down his throat without an effort. The sweet taste is easily gone by the next sip he takes. He doesn't want this to go on, the nightmares that is, but its not like he can help it.
Two warm tears stroll down his cheeks, as he begins to feel drowsy with every chug of the red wine that enters his mouth. His heart cracks a bit, as he gazes at the twinkly stars of the stellar night. "The sight is almost beautiful" he murmurs to himself wistfully, before slamming the bottle on the table loudly, as he continues bitterly "but nothing beautiful remains forever...." and takes a long sip of the red wine, ignoring the fact that his throat is burning, he needs this, because he can't go like this.
'It gets worse with every passing day' he notes to himself silently, and drops the bottle on the floor gently, before closing his eyes and allowing himself to fall into the darkness.