blue essence
the tall man looked out into the city lights of seoul from the large glass window situated in the middle of his apartment. the clock on the wall striked 3:27 am, the loud rumble of car engines roaring through the streets, upbeat music coming from the nightclubs, the laughing of people out on the streets could be heard all the way up into his penthouse. this was the time seoul became alive, all of the night owls roaming through the streets comfortable in their own environment, having fun. meanwhile, said man was dealing with inside torments and demons, he normally lays to sleep by 12 am, but after 2 hours of blissful peace, you appeared in his dreams again, visiting him like you always do. it’s a recurring routine, he goes to sleep and the person he dreams with is always you, you’re always guarding his dreams and taking him to paradise for the short hours he’s in the realms. he couldn’t go back to sleep so soon after feeling your love, so he decided to get up and etch his dream onto a canvas, something he could look at and reminisce to during the day.
he ignored the outside noise as he wordlessly dragged the paintbrush laced with royal blue paint across the sketch on the canvas. he twisted his hand, trying to get the perfect angle to portray you in the correct way. your face, so angelic, to him it seemed you were aphrodite, the epitome of beauty and perfection, carved to love. he stopped painting your dress for a slight moment, preferring to study your face a little longer. he couldn’t help but give himself credit for always painting you to such a level you seemed real. your bright, brown eyes showing sings of life and love, the feeling bringing him back to the very first time he painted you. it was many lifetimes ago, he was a famous painter, many royals and important members of families coming to him to bring their vision to life. a rich trader came to him one day, asking him to paint his future fiancé, he accepted without a second thought. but when you stepped into his studio that same day, he knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task staying away from you. perfection lay before his eyes as you posed for him, your eyes full of love and grace, your perfect skin, the bones surrounding your face, carving it to perfection. your petite nose, your rose tinted cheeks, and the full lips he came to love tasting. your small frame wrapped in that long blue dress perfecting your image.
that very moment, he realized he was infatuated by you, and you couldn’t help but feel the same for him. the long hours spent making the painting didn’t seem like too long, you came to love his sense of humor and he, your way of loving. you thanked him with a small peck on his lips, your mind free of the fiancé you were forced to be with for the sake of your parents, all you thought about in that moment was him making love to you. he became addicted to the essence of your lips, the sweet taste drawing him in, no rational thought in his brain.
he wrapped his arms around you, picking you up bridal style, and carried you up the stairs to his loft above his studio. he took off the blue dress he fell in love with and made love to you until the early hours of dawn, relishing in the way you came undone for him and called his name right before you were pushed over the edge. he left traces of him on your skin, the pink and red love bites etched across your breasts and hips. he left another remnant from his inside you; his baby, small and delicate forming in the safe chambers of your womb, protected from the world.
the happiness he felt when you came to him telling him you were carrying his baby became his muse and what motivated him to go further. it didn’t last long though, your fiancé finding out and putting a blade through your womb, killing chanyeol’s baby, he moved onto you, putting the blade through your heart as you looked at the love of your life one last time, breathing out a small declarance of love. he had no power to do anything, his hands and legs tied, and no matter how hard he tried to let loose, his strength betrayed him, punishing him for messing with something that wasn’t his. his eyes watched as your lifeless body limped over your fiancé’s hand, the home once belonging to your baby spilling blood.
he was set free, but was never the same. he died a sad young man, always thinking of you and what could’ve been your son. he dreamt of you every night, living with you in his dreams. when he reincarnated, he hoped to find you, but he didn’t, always seeing you in his dreams, but never in reality. he moved on from lifetime to lifetime, and never once did he see you in person. you were just a simple silhouette in his dreams, but the only reason he kept moving forward in life.
he snapped out of his haze and was brought back to the view of the city in seoul, the last thing the painting needed was his signature. he dipped a fine paintbrush into black oil paint and etched the initials “pcy” onto the bottom corner. letting the painting dry overnight, he went back to his bedroom and grabbed the glass bottle containing a number of sleeping pills, he contemplated with himself no longer than one second and downed the pill with a sip of water from one of the many bottles he kept on his nightstand. he surrounded himself with the white duvet and hugged his side pillow, wishing that he was met with your warm skin instead of the cold linen. his last thought before going back to the realm of dreams was you, it was always you.
