revelation

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ten

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song recommendation: revelation - troye sivan


I stare at Jeno blankly. He has his hands on my very red face, holding me as if I would disappear. I had figured Jeno might've been blind but I was trying to deny that fact because I don't want to believe that Jeno can no longer paint.


Warm tears roll down my cheeks and I sniffle softly. Just thinking about Jeno's blindness is enough to break my heart."Are you crying?" He wipes my away my tears, making me feel even worse. "Don't pity me, Jaemin. I did this to myself." His cold hands on my hot cheeks are soothing, and I lean into his gentle touch. "It's my fault that things ended up this way and I'm facing the punishment permanently." Exhaling, his melancholy expression matches his gloomy tone.


"You don't have to talk about it, Jeno."


"No. I want to." Sighing again, he takes his hands away from my face. "I haven't told anyone the real truth yet."


Jeno stays silent for a minute. I watch him intently, wondering why he wants to open up to me and not his best friends. Why is he so trusting of me when we are almost strangers?


"I should start from the beginning but that would make it a very long story, so I'll condense my childhood into one phrase." He pauses again, scowling slightly. "I was never good enough for my father." I slip Jeno's hand into mine, trying to reassure him. "He was especially disappointed in me when he heard of my competition at school. Someone was getting more attention than me and he strongly disliked that. He wanted me to be the best artist, a prodigy. But I have never thought of you as my competitor, because art has never been a competition to me."


"Your dad was disappointed in you, because of me?" Swallowing hard, Jeno nods.


"Do you remember the school fair where we were allowed to showcase our artwork?"


"Yeah. Our booths were next to each others, but I was too shy to talk to you." Jeno laughs softly at the recalled memory.


"You were so cute back then. You couldn't even look at me without getting flustered." He ruffles my hair, and my cheeks instantly flush. "Anyways, my dad was absolutely furious that our booths were next to each other. He hated that you were amazing at painting scenery and that I wasn't. I've only ever liked painting portraits because people are what interest me. I could paint a portrait of someone and remember all of the moments I've spent with them, and I never felt like that towards scenery, yet my dad was insistent that I tried. I tried and tried for months, but it felt so wrong to paint landscapes. He was so disappointed in me, constantly telling me that I should be better. But I never got better."


"Jeno, that-"


"One day, he snapped. Destroyed all of my art supplies and my dreams. The next day I woke up and I couldn't see anything. They had told me that I had tripped and hit my head on my desk. They told me that I would be permanently blind because my optic nerve had been damaged due to blunt force trauma. I couldn't debate with them because I couldn't remember, but I know for damn sure that I did not trip. I know that I was pushed." 

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