Chun was always being told not to be too irrational with these ideals he made for himself and his hopeful enjoyment. It possibly started when he was four; the first time he'd picked up a brown Mr Smelly marker and began drawing on the kitchen wall while his mother was laughing on the phone. When she'd shut off the phone and turned around to see monsters and loops and swirls of every sort jump out at her on her beautiful cream walls, she'd shrieked and spanked Chun. And even though he cried, thinking he'd done something wrong, through those tears that seemed too big to come out of his eyes, he stared at his first masterpiece. Since that moment, he would always find a way to draw, whether it be on the fogged-up windows or on his father's papers. And when he turned ten, when his father gave him his very first sketchbook, it was then that Chun decided that he would become a famous artist known to the world.

March 27th, Friday.

"CHUN!" It was how any normal day started: His mother shrieking at him to get up before he was late for school yet again. It wasn't really HIS fault, necessarily, but inspiration always struck when he was in the dark, listening to his iPod in bed. Then he would get up, lock his door, and turn his tiny lamp on, turning it so that it would just loom over the span of his paper, and he would draw until he finished--this being nearly an hour, sometimes, two, later.

Rubbing at the shadows under his eyes, Chun slipped into his white button-up shirt and jeans, and rushed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he grabbed a string of seaweed-packs from the countertop (this was reserved for his health-conscious mother later on), he somehow managed to shove his shoes on and get out the door, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

He made it to school in time, surprisingly. Aaron smirked at the shadows under his eyes, and this time, Chun didn't bother to glare or roll his eyes. He was too tired; but even then, he pulled his sketchbook--crammed lovingly into the back of his bag as always--and opened it to the drawing he worked so hard on the night before. It had taken him two and a half hours, but it was well worth it. He grinned wearily at the page before Aaron stole it from his hands to inspect it. He looked at it, expressions varying from awe to incredulity in a time span of ten seconds.

"So you didn't do your homework, but you managed to do this last night," he said, raising his long-lashed eyes to look at Chun, who chuckled sheepishly. Aaron sighed and put it back on Chun's desk. "Don't be surprised if the teacher phones home to your mom today. It's the, I dunno, four-hundred-fifty-second time you didn't do your worksheets." Chun grimaced and put his hands up in surrender, and when Aaron laughed and went back to his own desk, he put his arms down onto his sketchbook and dropped his head down to get some sleep before class started.

--

As soon as he got home, Chun would get no break from the nagging his mother barked out. She had some weird sixth sense that told her when Chun was home, and on cue, she would begin berating him to no end.

"Chun, why must you keep going on about this nonsense? It's not hard to follow behind Pa and be a businessman; they get more money in a day than artists do in a week. Stop being stupid and just listen to me," she ranted. Chun had long since learned to tune her out while she was on rant mode, and he reached for a snack from the pantry.
"CHUN!" Finally, with a shout, his mother managed to get his attention. "Don't listen to your mother, then! Here!" She shoved a paper into his hands, crossing her arms and glowering at him as he read it.

[City-wide Young Artists Contest!
For those aspiring artists under 18 who wish to make their debut, this is for you!
Create an art piece that represents a reminiscent memory, recent or long past, that is precious to you; then enter here!
The winner will have a chance to debut their work at the Sovereign Museum, as well as a chance to work under the guidance of several world-known and skilled artists.
Come first to the Sovereign Museum on Sunday, March 29th to sign up; museum opens at 8 30A.M.
Address: x x x x 5th street SE
Phone number: xxx-xxx-xxxx
Postal code: XXX-XXX
There are only 100 spots available!
Submissions may be sent in starting April 13th.
Deadline date: April 30th.]

Chun's face brightened visibly after reading it, and he looked up, grinning like a moron. His mother, who had different ideas, smirked back.

"Chun, if you want to debut, go ahead. If you win, I will give you my blessings and let you become an artist as you wish. But if you don't win, you MUST give up trying to be an artist and all those art hobbies of yours, and start training to become a businessman like your father and I want."

Chun was horrified at the stakes of this deal--he knew how forceful his mother could be if she wanted, and she had not yet used the full extent of her power to get him to give up being an artist. Nonetheless, he was confident he would win--it was all or nothing, after all.

"Fine, I'll do it."

--

March 29th, Sunday.

Chun had forced himself to go to bed, and even when inspiration struck--at the worst time yet again, he made himself stay in bed, nearly pulling his hair out with desperation. It paid off, however, when he managed to get out of bed at 6 45--although the shadows under his eyes seemed to have a permanent residence under his dark eyes.

He was out the door by 8 o'clock. The bus ride took twenty minutes to get from his street to downtown Sovereign Museum. In front of the museum front doors, there were four people waiting. Three were girls, and one was a boy. Two girls had skirts on in the gloomy weather, and they were talking and giggling. The third girl had on a hoodie two sizes too big for her, and old ripped jeans. She stood against the building, ear-buds blocking out the city noises. Her eyes were shut, and a sketchbook was held between her hand and her side. The boy was quiet as well, eyeing the gossiping girls irritably.

"It looks like her jeans have been through the sander," one girl stage-whispered to her friend, snickering. The object of her attention ignored the girl who couldn't tell the difference between a normal voice and a whisper. Chun turned around and shot the skirted girl a look, and she quickly turned around to see what the time was, now freaking out with her friend in what they thought was a quiet manner. Chun raised his eyebrows in exasperation, tapping his fingers on the door.

A staff member finally came up and unlocked the door. By that time, at least twenty more people had come and were standing loosely along the sidewalk.

"Please form a neat line in front of where I'm standing," the staff member called out, and quietly, everyone hustled into a jagged line, some people standing beside each other, others nearly standing on top of each other. Despite that Chun had been the fourth to come, he was shoved back at least ten people. He cussed under his breath and slowly pushed himself back up the line. The sign-up procedure was going slowly. It was at least ten minutes before Chun had a chance to get to the paper, and he'd been the seventh person in line.

The girl from before was now standing quietly, observing a painting of a fat woman eating grapes. Chun, feeling refreshingly sociable today, went up to her and began conversation.

"Hi," he said, smiling softly. She turned and waved. "I'm Chun; I guess we'll be competing for first place?" There was no answer for a couple minutes, and Chun opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it after seeing no reaction from the girl.

"Oh. Sorry, do you want me to be quiet?" At this, the girl spun around and waved her hands in front of herself madly, shaking her head no at the same time. She pulled her sketchbook and a pencil out, and on a new page, she wrote,

[My name is Genie.]

"Is..." Chun was stuck between curiosity and courtesy. He wanted to ask why she couldn't speak, but at the same time, it seemed rude to. She cocked her head to show that she was listening. After another few silent seconds, she held her hands palm-side-up in question. "Never mind," Chun finally smiled.

"Hey, what school do you go to?"

[I'm in your 3D art class. You're one grade higher though.]

Chun was shocked, really, at how blindly tired he must have been for the past...who-knows-how-long. He had 3D art every single day. He chuckled sheepishly, inducing a soundless giggle from Genie.

For a reason not quite known, it was nearly easier to talk to Genie than it was to Aaron--which was completely off, because Aaron had been Chun's closest friend since grade four. Maybe it was just that Genie didn't talk back, but she smiled at everything he said to show that she was listening, especially; and this Chun liked, because for the first time in a long while, he could hear himself talk, instead of listening to others talking. It felt almost as good as drawing, really.

--

March 30th, Monday.

As soon as Chun stepped into the classroom, he looked for Genie. She was there, surrounded by a few girls who talked a lot. She smiled and nodded every so often. Exhaling loudly, Chun made his way through the many tables and chairs strewn across the room. The conversation basically halted as soon as he got to the table, standing back with his hands in his pockets. He looked around the table of girls uncomfortably. They all looked up at him hopefully, and he smiled back, feeling endangered.

"I'm here to talk to Genie...?" Chun trailed off. The girls brightened and pulled Genie, wearing another oversized hoodie and yet another pair of torn jeans, out of her chair, pushing her over to Chun. She waved shyly at him, and so their friendship really began.

It wasn't until the third day that Chun built up enough courage to ask Genie about her voice. Her reply barely gave anything away.

[I'm sick.]

"Oh," Chun replied, and the topic was left alone afterwards. That topic was one of many that they discussed--or rather, that Chun discussed, really, and that Genie would sometimes make a note of. Nevertheless, he liked spending a majority of his time with her.

Their time was running out.

--

April 12th, Sunday.

It was getting warmer, and it felt like summer, even though it was early spring. In the green school field, where Chun and Genie were assigned to sketch a tree for 3D art that they would make a model of later, that was a good day.

Chun had somehow managed to trip on the tree root in his half-awake state, and because of this, he stumbled head-first into the school building, thus causing his forehead to bleed. This wouldn't have been as amusing as it was had Chun not been afraid of blood. As soon as he saw the blood trickle down his nose from the corner of his eye, he exploded in shouts and jumping around, which somehow had him end up at Genie's feet.

And she laughed. It was a real laugh--not the silent chuckle she always had--it was a real laugh, and he heard it. Chun's eyes widened as he completely forgot about the blood. It was a hoarse laugh, but he could almost hear the sound of her voice, and it was beautiful--the husky kind of voice that singers had.

This made Chun's day. This made him listen harder--make sure that, every time he was around Genie, he would be able to hear any sound she made, even the minutest of noises. This, in turn, made him alert, and even as the shadows under his eyes darkened, he was more awake than ever.

This made Genie's day, as well. It would mark the most important day of, really, her whole life, or so that she could remember. But even when Chun saw the saddest glint in her eye before they went their separate ways, he couldn't guess why she was so unhappy.

--

April 13th, Monday.

Genie didn't show up at school that day. He didn't have her contact information, seeing as she couldn't talk, and she didn't use her Messenger often. He couldn't find her anywhere that one day.

Remembering the look in her eyes from the previous day, Chun became desperate.

"Have you seen Genie?!" He sounded broken--repeating the same question over and over again. He became so desperate that he caught a bus in the middle of fourth period in order to go downtown, to the Sovereign Museum.

"Excuse me," he knocked on the desk repeatedly, until the clerk looked up. "Has anyone come by today?"

"Well, yes, many people have come by today."

"No--I mean, has a girl come by? Long straight black hair, with a big sweater and ripped jeans? Carrying a sketchbook?"

"Actually, yes, I believe someone like that did come by. She dropped off her contest entry and left."

"C--Can I see it?"

"Definitely not, sir, these entries are confidential!"

"Please. Did she leave anything with it? A note, or something? Can you just go check and bring it back if there is one?"

"Well...I guess that would be alright. Stay right here, and I'll go check..." She eyed Chun suspiciously before disappearing through the door behind her. After a few minutes, she came out again, holding a piece of white paper. It was torn, as if it came straight out of Genie's sketchbook.

"Thank you," Chun said roughly before taking it from her hands. He took a gulp of air before flipping it over to read the letter.

[Hello Chun. I knew you were smart enough to come by. :)
Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. I enjoyed our time together.
Thank you also for being understanding of my situation.
Before, I was really loud, and bossy, as well, because I thought I was so talented at singing that I could hit it big. Can you believe that?
After I found out that I had throat cancer, I was hopeless.
My parents convinced me to undergo surgery, despite the risk that it might fail and I would lose my voice.
It was unsuccessful, so I lost my voice permanently, and I became isolated and lonely.
I met some friends, first, but I wasn't close with them. They were just acquaintances who were friendly enough to hang around me.
Then you came along, and you were terrific. :)
I hope you win the contest, my fingers are crossed!
Always yours, no matter what,
Genie.]

He couldn't figure it out. There was something dark behind the contents of the letter. She first was a singer of sorts--then she was diagnosed with throat cancer--her surgery failed, she lost her voice forever--she met him. He couldn't figure it out.

--

"Chun, are you done your contest submission?" His mother tapped his head impatiently. Chun swatted her off irritably, staring at the paper.

"CHUN! What did you just do to me?!" His mother slapped his head, but still, Chun ignored her. Finally, as a last resort to figure out the letter (as well as distract his mother), he shoved it in her hands.

"Mom, what does this mean?" He held onto it even as he let her read it. She read it once over, twice over, three times, and looked up.

"Where is this Genie? Do you know where she is?"

"No...?" Chun trailed off, seeing a type of urgency in his mother's fierce black eyes. He clenched the paper tight in his fist, wrinkling it.

"Then you won't find her again. I hope you don't try to anymore." The urgency died away, and her eyes softened dully. The paper dropped onto the floor with a soft bop.

--

May 15th, Friday.

[The Sovereign Museum is proud to announce the winner of the Young Artists Contest:
Wu Chun, 17, with his painting, 'To Hear You'
Displayed below, as well as in its original form at the Sovereign Museum, he tells us that his inspiration was of 'a close friend who only laughed once for him to hear'.
Thank you to all who participated, and don't give up!]

"Hello, Mr Chun. We're from the Sovereign Museum, and we're here to discuss your apprenticeship under a numerous amount of world-wide famous artists. We would like to discuss your options...as well as interview you for the FineArts Magazine, about your painting."

"Yes, thank you; come in."

"Your flight tickets have been paid in full courtesy of the Sovereign Museum, and here we have a schedule of all your flights. You'll be due back home in late October of next year."

"Okay, thanks--thank you."

"It's nothing, now, onto the interview. What was it that inspired you to paint 'To Hear You' for the representation of a reminiscent past event, and what was the source of its name?"

"I had a close friend who used to sing, but she lost her voice due to tragic events. I only heard her laugh once, and that was the inspiration behind this painting. The title, then, should be explanatory."

"Thank you, then, Mr Chun. We'll be publishing the article in about two weeks' time; be sure to pick up the magazine."

--

May 23rd, Saturday.

The school field was greener than it had been the last time Chun and Genie were there, and before he left for his flight around the world to learn under those great artists, he wanted to visit the field one more time.

For a minute, as he stood there remembering, a bittersweet feeling passed through, and then he turned to get back into the car for the airport.

--
this one took much too long. :O
my friend watched a movie called romantic princess, and i asked her for a pairing, and she was like, chun and genie, they were forced to be a couple for a few days, and genie was all bossy and stuff.
i used a little bit of that in here~

march 29, 09.
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