painting on a vast landscape; jinki/kibum; pg-13; prologue
painting on a vast landscape; prologue
kitariii / pg-13 / romance, fluff, slight-angst
pairing: jinki / kibum
excerpt: "You made a mistake, you say?" Kibum watched in shock as Jinki lifted up a paintbrush from his box of tools, dipped it on white paint and splattered it all over his canvas, covering the flawed parts of his paintings and at the same time messing up the mixture of the colors. Jinki looks back at Kibum with his eyes dancing in amusement; he let out a lopsided grin before handing Kibum his paintbrush back. "Then change it, you have all the capabilities to do so." Kibum was so fazed that he remained unmoving as he stared at Jinki's form, jumping out of the window of his room.
Kibum watched in horror as a person’s silhouette sauntered towards his canvas and grabs a paintbrush with one hand, dipping it into white paint not long before dabbing it casually all over his work. Take note, his, Kibum’s, work. What was once an unfinished painting of a summer house was now covered with white acrylic paint, the figure smudged as white paint mixes with the variety of colors imprinted on the canvas, completely morphing its appearance. In other words, it was a mess - a great disarray.
He steps out from the shadow where he was hiding since he realized that someone had entered his dimly lit room and snatches the paintbrush from the other without even bothering to take a look at the identity of the person. He looks at his painting in vain with his hands trembling as he took hold of the paintbrush that was used to commit the deed.
“Y-you, you ruined my painting.” He mumbles softly, afraid that making a commotion or throwing a fit of his current emotions would awake his family, which consisted of just his aunt who took him in after his parents’ death, who was in deep slumber. He doesn’t bother to turn back and take a look at the suspect, instead he focuses on the now tainted painting, feeling himself go limp his grip on his paintbrush loosen, making it drop not-so soundlessly on his wooden floor. It wasn’t a perfect painting; he knew how uneven his strokes were, how at some point, the colors fail to create harmony amongst the colors beside it. While the painting looked good to the normal eye, to Kibum’s painter intuition, it was imperfect. However, he made no move in order to correct it, he simply moved on and focused at another angle, afraid of having to do over again what he had been already able to almost accomplish.
He felt no response from the suspect but he knew that he was just behind him, boring holes on his back. He was silent, yes, but his lips quivered from refusing to let out a sob. He knew he was strong; a simple hindrance such as this wouldn’t make him give up, right?
“Do you know how much of my almost non-existent free time I had to give up just to work on that painting? That costs me my final grade for this semester, my final grade which accounts to whether I would graduate or not!” He says the last sentence in a suppressed hiss.
“But it’s imperfect.” A low voice answers him from behind; a voice he vaguely recognizes yet was somehow familiar to him. Where had he heard that voice before? He tries to rummage through his mind for answers yet the confusion and mixture of frustration in him prevents him from doing so. He felt shivers down his spine as he felt the suspect step closer to him. He remained unmoving.
He hung his head low and took deep breaths before responding. “Nothing is perfect, after all.” It was true; despite his desire for perfection and how flaws made him irate, he had long accepted the fact that the strive for perfection would be worthless for perfection was probably just a thought produced by those who claim to have been or are, wanting other people to look up on them when in fact, they are merely what they are. Perfection was a wretched thought, it was impossible yet people experience the misfortune to think otherwise.
“No matter how much I strive for it, it would just lead me to nothing. Doesn’t everyone commit mistakes? That alone is a sign of one’s imperfection. Mistakes… I have a lot of them you know? Most I regret, some I feel doesn’t even deserve my thought.” Kibum continued. “I’m flawed, you, whoever you might be, are as well.”
As if on cue, a gust of wind enters through Kibum’s widely opened windows and brings in cold air, making Kibum slightly tremble. He wondered why his windows were opened when he remembered closing them before he hopped on his bed to rest but then he realized that it must’ve been the intruder’s route. He was too caught up by it that he jolted when a pair of arms circles around his waist, pulling him backwards, his back meeting with a broad clothed chest. He didn’t know why he didn’t do any effort to release himself from the intruder’s hold, what he knew was that he felt like a puzzle piece that fits perfectly to the other. It was odd to him, considering that he didn’t even know the man’s identity. But that was the least of his worries.
He feels the man’s steady breathing near his left ear, slightly bothered by the close proximity between the two of them. “But Kibum could do anything he puts his mind into.” He whispers softly into his ear, not making a move.
Kibum felt his eyes widen in realization. He jerks away from the man, pushing him on the side of the room where the moonlight glistens, allowing him to see the intruder’s features. His mouth opens slightly as he sees the sight in front of him; as he sees the man in front of him.
“Did you miss me?” Kibum watches as the man in front of him smiles at him; that one smile he hadn’t seen for a long time already. That smile that he had gotten so used to that when it just disappeared, he felt himself longing for it more and more.
His whole body was shaking but it wasn’t because of the cool wind that has entered his room, it was because of the overflowing emotions inside of him. And for the first time, ever since he had sworn to himself not to break down, a tear slowly rolls down his cheeks as he sobs.
“Well, did you?”
Without thinking, he bends down and grabs the forgotten paintbrush before throwing it at the man’s direction, hitting him square on the forehead.
“You never really know whether you’ve lived well or not, it’s not for you to know right now, it’s for you to find out once you realize how big you’ve made a change in somebody else’s life.”
Someone special uttered these words to me under the starless skies as we lie on top of a hill during a warm summer night. How we ended up in there, nobody knows. What happened under the watch of the starless skies, nobody but us will know.
I never really understood the meaning behind those words back then; I was young and careless - naïve of the things that were happening around me.
Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, then maybe, just maybe, things would take a different turn. But then again, maybe was never an uplifting word. Doesn’t it make you wonder though, that maybe, these ‘maybes’ would be come definite.
People say that paintings capture moments, in a special way that photographs don’t.
The meaning behind a painting isn’t what always meets the eye; a painting can be morphed into another form simply by covering up the loose mistakes in a way that photographs can’t.
Life, in the same context, is like a painting.
Once you commit a mistake, you can’t ‘retake’ the shot like what a cameraman who failed to put the focus on the specimen does. You’ll be a painter, covering up those mistakes with a new innovation of colors. The mistakes will always be there, it cannot be erased but it can be covered - if done well, the mistake wouldn’t be noticeable anymore.
It’s the same as moving on from the mistakes you commit.
Life only happens once so take your paintbrush and start filling up the canvas. Don’t be afraid if you commit a mistake, there’s still much space in the canvas to change.
….Those were the words that engraved deep in my heart. I would never forget it, nor will I ever forget the person who painted those words into me.
A/N: Ah, I finally had the courage to post this. I know I have other chaptered fics left undone but the plot of this has been bugging me for quite a while now that's why I've decided to write it. I hope you enjoy the prologue; now I shall ask, should I continue it or not? :3 I'll look forward to your comments :) Thank you so much.
kitariii / pg-13 / romance, fluff, slight-angst
pairing: jinki / kibum
excerpt: "You made a mistake, you say?" Kibum watched in shock as Jinki lifted up a paintbrush from his box of tools, dipped it on white paint and splattered it all over his canvas, covering the flawed parts of his paintings and at the same time messing up the mixture of the colors. Jinki looks back at Kibum with his eyes dancing in amusement; he let out a lopsided grin before handing Kibum his paintbrush back. "Then change it, you have all the capabilities to do so." Kibum was so fazed that he remained unmoving as he stared at Jinki's form, jumping out of the window of his room.
Kibum watched in horror as a person’s silhouette sauntered towards his canvas and grabs a paintbrush with one hand, dipping it into white paint not long before dabbing it casually all over his work. Take note, his, Kibum’s, work. What was once an unfinished painting of a summer house was now covered with white acrylic paint, the figure smudged as white paint mixes with the variety of colors imprinted on the canvas, completely morphing its appearance. In other words, it was a mess - a great disarray.
He steps out from the shadow where he was hiding since he realized that someone had entered his dimly lit room and snatches the paintbrush from the other without even bothering to take a look at the identity of the person. He looks at his painting in vain with his hands trembling as he took hold of the paintbrush that was used to commit the deed.
“Y-you, you ruined my painting.” He mumbles softly, afraid that making a commotion or throwing a fit of his current emotions would awake his family, which consisted of just his aunt who took him in after his parents’ death, who was in deep slumber. He doesn’t bother to turn back and take a look at the suspect, instead he focuses on the now tainted painting, feeling himself go limp his grip on his paintbrush loosen, making it drop not-so soundlessly on his wooden floor. It wasn’t a perfect painting; he knew how uneven his strokes were, how at some point, the colors fail to create harmony amongst the colors beside it. While the painting looked good to the normal eye, to Kibum’s painter intuition, it was imperfect. However, he made no move in order to correct it, he simply moved on and focused at another angle, afraid of having to do over again what he had been already able to almost accomplish.
He felt no response from the suspect but he knew that he was just behind him, boring holes on his back. He was silent, yes, but his lips quivered from refusing to let out a sob. He knew he was strong; a simple hindrance such as this wouldn’t make him give up, right?
“Do you know how much of my almost non-existent free time I had to give up just to work on that painting? That costs me my final grade for this semester, my final grade which accounts to whether I would graduate or not!” He says the last sentence in a suppressed hiss.
“But it’s imperfect.” A low voice answers him from behind; a voice he vaguely recognizes yet was somehow familiar to him. Where had he heard that voice before? He tries to rummage through his mind for answers yet the confusion and mixture of frustration in him prevents him from doing so. He felt shivers down his spine as he felt the suspect step closer to him. He remained unmoving.
He hung his head low and took deep breaths before responding. “Nothing is perfect, after all.” It was true; despite his desire for perfection and how flaws made him irate, he had long accepted the fact that the strive for perfection would be worthless for perfection was probably just a thought produced by those who claim to have been or are, wanting other people to look up on them when in fact, they are merely what they are. Perfection was a wretched thought, it was impossible yet people experience the misfortune to think otherwise.
“No matter how much I strive for it, it would just lead me to nothing. Doesn’t everyone commit mistakes? That alone is a sign of one’s imperfection. Mistakes… I have a lot of them you know? Most I regret, some I feel doesn’t even deserve my thought.” Kibum continued. “I’m flawed, you, whoever you might be, are as well.”
As if on cue, a gust of wind enters through Kibum’s widely opened windows and brings in cold air, making Kibum slightly tremble. He wondered why his windows were opened when he remembered closing them before he hopped on his bed to rest but then he realized that it must’ve been the intruder’s route. He was too caught up by it that he jolted when a pair of arms circles around his waist, pulling him backwards, his back meeting with a broad clothed chest. He didn’t know why he didn’t do any effort to release himself from the intruder’s hold, what he knew was that he felt like a puzzle piece that fits perfectly to the other. It was odd to him, considering that he didn’t even know the man’s identity. But that was the least of his worries.
He feels the man’s steady breathing near his left ear, slightly bothered by the close proximity between the two of them. “But Kibum could do anything he puts his mind into.” He whispers softly into his ear, not making a move.
Kibum felt his eyes widen in realization. He jerks away from the man, pushing him on the side of the room where the moonlight glistens, allowing him to see the intruder’s features. His mouth opens slightly as he sees the sight in front of him; as he sees the man in front of him.
“Did you miss me?” Kibum watches as the man in front of him smiles at him; that one smile he hadn’t seen for a long time already. That smile that he had gotten so used to that when it just disappeared, he felt himself longing for it more and more.
His whole body was shaking but it wasn’t because of the cool wind that has entered his room, it was because of the overflowing emotions inside of him. And for the first time, ever since he had sworn to himself not to break down, a tear slowly rolls down his cheeks as he sobs.
“Well, did you?”
Without thinking, he bends down and grabs the forgotten paintbrush before throwing it at the man’s direction, hitting him square on the forehead.
“You never really know whether you’ve lived well or not, it’s not for you to know right now, it’s for you to find out once you realize how big you’ve made a change in somebody else’s life.”
Someone special uttered these words to me under the starless skies as we lie on top of a hill during a warm summer night. How we ended up in there, nobody knows. What happened under the watch of the starless skies, nobody but us will know.
I never really understood the meaning behind those words back then; I was young and careless - naïve of the things that were happening around me.
Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, then maybe, just maybe, things would take a different turn. But then again, maybe was never an uplifting word. Doesn’t it make you wonder though, that maybe, these ‘maybes’ would be come definite.
People say that paintings capture moments, in a special way that photographs don’t.
The meaning behind a painting isn’t what always meets the eye; a painting can be morphed into another form simply by covering up the loose mistakes in a way that photographs can’t.
Life, in the same context, is like a painting.
Once you commit a mistake, you can’t ‘retake’ the shot like what a cameraman who failed to put the focus on the specimen does. You’ll be a painter, covering up those mistakes with a new innovation of colors. The mistakes will always be there, it cannot be erased but it can be covered - if done well, the mistake wouldn’t be noticeable anymore.
It’s the same as moving on from the mistakes you commit.
Life only happens once so take your paintbrush and start filling up the canvas. Don’t be afraid if you commit a mistake, there’s still much space in the canvas to change.
….Those were the words that engraved deep in my heart. I would never forget it, nor will I ever forget the person who painted those words into me.
A/N: Ah, I finally had the courage to post this. I know I have other chaptered fics left undone but the plot of this has been bugging me for quite a while now that's why I've decided to write it. I hope you enjoy the prologue; now I shall ask, should I continue it or not? :3 I'll look forward to your comments :) Thank you so much.