Sunggyu was a painter.

He would look for inspiration in all aspects of his life.

Sometimes he felt like he was wandering until he could find his next muse. It was freeing yet torturous at times.

He sat in his bedroom where he painted, the beige wallpaper faded and peeling, the light came through the thin curtains. The light breeze combined with the soft piano notes he listened to, he has to create a state of serenity to paint.

He sketches some ideas here and there. 

A field of flowers, with many colours. It never turned out quite right. 

He brushed his hand through his sandy hair and sighed. He had the inspiration but a mental block to create it as he envisioned. 

 

It was times like this he needed a break. 

He locked the door, throwing on a black raincoat and small satchel bag. He preferred bringing a small sketchbook and notebook incase he had any inspirations.

The sunset was a brilliant orange and pink. The weather was good but that was usually how it was. In this place, it was a dream to live here. He loved walking along the canals, seeing the nature, observing how people interacted and how it could create a world in his mind for his next inspiration. In his room, he painted many worlds and at times it flowed out endlessly that his physical self could not keep up.

At times he thought of painting the sunflowers not far from his apartment, but he wasn't sure if that would be compared to the famous painting. He never wanted to do anything like others, at times his paintings were a mix of the real and fake, a made up world where it was ideal or horrific. 

He kept walking along the canal, seeing people who lived in boats, a child skipping, some teenagers drinking beers by the side of the road. 

He pushed his glasses up his nose and realised he forgot to reset the time on his watch, for it had gone forward an hour last night. His sense of time was skewed compared to most people he knew, those who worked 9-5 in offices. As an artist, he knew he was lucky to be in demand but never really thought he would do anything else. He was always going to excel, it came so easily to him that he didn't know another future but this one. He was someone who daydreamed frequently but never needed to care of the consequences. He felt so free in this way and didn't need anyone else to interfere. Even if it meant he was alone, the serenity in his life is all he wanted. Especially to create, that was a requirement. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, 

Did you drop this?"

 

He looked up, and there was another man standing there. He wore a sharp suit and tie, holding his sketchbook which must have fallen out of his bag.

"Oh, thank you. I must have dropped it."

"Hold on, let's check it IS yours". The man, rather rudely, flipped through the pages to have a good nose at what he'd found. There was many sketches of different kinds of flowers, since that was his focus at the moment. Some of the streets nearby, the cobbled pavement and balconied windows, the silent marketplace at nighttime. He landed on a page in the middle, more vivid and roughly drawn, a crow that he had seen out of his window nights before.

He was silent, for some reason he just let it happen and gestured his hand out to take the book back. This stranger was far too confident and rude for his liking.

"This one is a bit menancing I think."He smirked and passed the book back.

He still was silent, and quickly opened his bag to put it back before he would do anything else. He didn't consider himself to be a shy person, but around this man he felt rather unsure. 

"I really did like it though." The man walked away with a smile and wave

He was still silent, wondering what kind of strange exchange that was. 

It had grown darker and the lampposts were lit.

 

 

When he fell asleep that night. He dreamed of him. He wanted to know what his deal was. Why didn't he speak? Was his presence that intimidating? He tossed and turned. Why was he even on his mind? He didn't even remember what he looked like. 

He knew he was kidding himself. 

In his dream, for some reason he and the stranger had been asked, as the only 2 left in the world, to go on a mission to Mars. At this point in civilization, it was advanced in technology,  but regardless of this they fought. They didn't know each other and had to spend all of the rest of time with each other. For eternity. He dreamed they had to cultivate plants and learn how to adapt to life on mars. They spent every minute together. There was no one else. 

When he woke up all he could remember was the sight of him, his eyelashes when he looked up at him, the lines of his jaw and nose, his eyes that smiled too.

He didn't even bother to change, and got his sketchbook, the one at home which was entirely different to his other one, with more private ideas in. He vividly sketched with haste as though he didn't want to forget the vi