MUST Listen to: EXO "It's Still a Dark Night"

This chapter is a little... hmm.... well... you'll see...

Kara

She silently sat, as he finished the song.

"That was... beuatiful. You're really amazing, JongIn."

"I'm not amazing. I'm just... able to express my feelings through music."

"And through art?" She said as she pointed to the canvases that lay against one another.

"Yeah, I suppose so. But I haven't looked at them for as long as I can remember. Lots of the artwork was done during the longer breaks and holidays. School's started and I'm busier. But I'm trying, painting whenever I can. Finishing up, touching up."

"Can I see them?"

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

And he left the seat and brought her over to the easel.

"So these are...uh..."

And he seemed to hesitate, as he blocked her all of a sudden, and began to fidget.

"What's wrong, Kai?"

"I...uh... you... erm..."

"What are you-"

"Nothing, I just uh-"

And so Kara decided to just step forward and move him aside.

"Don't-"

And tears filled her eyes.

"That's what I was afraid of."

In front of her was a painting, a beautifully painted picture of her as a child. But that wasn't what struck a chord in her. Rather, it was the other person. It was a painting of her when she was younger, sitting on a wooden chair with her Aunt behind her, putting a flower crown onto her hair. It was an intricately drawn piece of art- Kai had paid attention to all the little details. The picture looked so real, so alive. The little girl stared back, her eyes full of joy and happiness. He had really made sure to complete the painting with heavy focus. Every single strand of hair had been clearly drawn out, he had emphasised every colour, every , and the painting revealed all the emotion, all the feelings. The flowers were the tiny ones that she had loved, the ones that were pastel- blue, yellow, pink.

And the most prominent feature of the painting was her Aunt's hands. The hands that softly touched, her hair with tenderness and love. The hands even looked soft, if that were possible. They didn't look like the usual, rough, calloused hands, but rather very slender and delicate hands. Her Aunt had on a smiling expression, her face revealed the care and concern she held for Kara. And they looked happy together.

Kara reached out her hand, touching her Aunt's face, tracing her fingers down to her hands. She looked to real, so truly alive and real. But she wasn't. Kara had to wake up and see the harsh reality. She couldn't put her hand into her Aunt's anymore. She was gone. They couldn't hold hands, because her hand was somewhere buried, probably decomposed, in the church's yard. And all of a sudden, the colours scared her. The sweet, lovely colours scared her.

And she began to cry. She didn't sob, or she didn't sniffle. She wailed. Her crying was so piercing, so sorrowful and depressing. Gone. Gone. Gone. The words repeated in her head like a mantra. And suddenly the nightmares came. They flashed, they clouded her mind. Grey. Stormy. Thunderous. Flashes and bolts of lightning. And the evening sky began to disappear. Fade away.