Walking towards the grass, he raised his eyes to the sky.
It was blue, not even a cloud daring to appear.

A sigh of contentment escaped his luscious lips.

The birds were singing and at this time, children playing in the square next to the park.
Only God knew how they managed to do so much noise, being only a few, but Seungcheol didn’t gave them much attention anyway.

May was a cherished month for him.

He found his usual spot after few minutes of search, despite the fact that he knew the park almost inside out.
He still remembered the happy days he shared with his parents here when he was still a kid.
They would read, while he would play with other child. And sometimes, they played soccer together.

Sitting on the fresh grass, Seungcheol opened his backpack and took a book out.

As soon as his digits touched the cover, his heartbeat went wild, almost hectic.

All the important shards of his life were in this book.

Drawing started at seven for Seungcheol.

Soon, it became his way to escape the harsh reality he was living in.

Seungcheol was quite an introvert which made him the favorite target for bullies from elementary school to high school.

The feeling of being an outsider in this world never really left him. Even now, he still felt like no one could ever understand him.

He would always bring his book whenever he had the time and even in class so he could escape from this reality and find comfort somewhere.

He naturally got better as years passed by and Seungcheol’s mother encouraged him to enter an Art school.
Everyone didn’t have this chance and he knew that his mom had made a lot of sacrifice for him to achieve a dream, a certain dream he hadn’t figured out yet.


However, he was sure of one thing: drawing was his everything.

And so was the man who sit few meters away, a book in his hand.

It all started one year ago. And since this precious day of May, this stranger invaded the artist’s mind.

To put it simply, he was what Seungcheol would call a masterpiece. A piece of art who owned great features and a special aura.
The one that makes your heart stop and your hands get clammy from astonishment.

He had ginger hair brought into a ponytail, only a thin unruly lock grazing his temple.

His hands looked so fragile, and his face carried delicate features, giving him a majestic presence.

His jaw was strong, and his voice contrasted with the fragility that his body evoked to the artist.

His look held a certain purity mixed with a certain harshness Seungcheol wouldn’t have been able to describe.
His entirety stirred his entire soul, and it was the first time something besides drawing had this effect on him. He didn’t even knew his name, but it didn’t matter at first.

Because, after all, a Muse didn’t necessarily had a name.
And each time the stranger was here, Seungcheol’s mood was bright as the moon in the dark sky.

Good for him, since the unknown man was a regular here, to the point the artist knew that he could have literally made a schedule of the appearance of the Muse in this park. Not that he wanted to. It would have made things even creepier than what they already were.

His Muse was often reading, but that wasn’t the only thing he was doing here.

Sometimes, he only came here to lay down and watch the sky. Sometimes to eat, alone or with friends.
When Seungcheol had the chance to witness something different he couldn’t help but feel blessed for having brand new content to add to his book, his inspiration revived.

When he was sketching him, it always started the same way.

At first, his hands were gently grazing a thin sheet of paper while he started to draw few thin lines made of black.
However, as his work progressed, as his glances destined for the Muse became more frequent, he would always end up whipped into a frenzy; his frenzy.

His hand weren’t grazing anymore, but scraping.
And sometimes, Seungcheol would break his nib.
It was crazy how a stranger made him feel alive like no one did before.
 

His Muse couldn't be altered by the time, Seungcheol was sure of it.

And, for the moment, he truly believed he was right. He was still in awe of how Jeonghan was beautiful.

In the fullness of time, Seungcheol finally got to know his name.

Two years had passed and not even an inch of his skin had changed.

And May was still a cherished month for Seungcheol.

Only Jeonghan’s smile had become harder to picture, which worried the artist a bit.
It came down to the point Seungcheol really wanted to talk to him, but… how ?
He could never be honest and admit that he was watching him for almost two years...and that alone intimidate him to the point he couldn’t bring himself to talk to him.

As if he was unreachable.
As if talking to him would ruin his magnificence and taint him with his own banality.

Never could he dare talk to him. He was decided.

Nevertheless, a part of him also longed for more, although he knew that it would compromise the place the young man had in his heart.

If they talked, he could (or maybe, would) become even more important for him and it scared him, a lot. Even so, himself wasn’t sure of being a Muse wasn’t the highest position someone could have in an artist’s heart.

The line between love and absolute admiration was so thin that the artist had crossed it without realizing it. The latter knew it, but decided to ignore it.

And so time passed.

And Seungcheol craved just wanted one talk. One single talk.

Three years had passed, and on this cherished month, Seungcheol had come to a decision.

He had a project to give out, and he intended to ask Jeonghan if he could be at the least a part of it.
Rushing toward his usual spot, he sat and kept himself busy by drawing banal things.

After a while, a frame finally came into his field vision. He had never seen it before.

The person sat right where the Muse was usually sitting.

Seungcheol was lost, maybe he was in the wrong spot? He had always frequented this park so it was likely not to happen but he still scanned around him to check if he was indeed in the false spot.

However, as he had expected, he was in the usual place surrounded with woods and little water fountains whose water splashed so intensively.

But then, he heard a voice, the one he couldn’t have mistaken it with someone else’s.
It was his voice.

Seungcheol quickly turned his gaze, only to meet a picture that would never leave his mind.
The kind of picture that would carve its pixels deep down into his little brain.

The person he had been drawing for years, always with the same passion. The one who had revived his inspiration and made him feel alive, shared a kiss with the other person.

A slow, but passionate kiss that radiated with love, harming Seungcheol who was meters away.

The artist froze, unable to drag his eyes away from the scene. He could swear that he felt his heart shatter.

He started to believe that one could die from a broken heart, as a single tear dripped down his cheeks. But then, another one appeared. And then, another one joined the line of water the previous tear had left.

In an instant, Seungcheol’s face was drowning in a salty water, made of pickled emotions.
If only they had this talk the artist was literally daydreaming about, maybe things would have been different. Maybe, he would have been the person who was now putting him into a tight embrace, as if he wanted them to become a One.

It was already too much for the artist to endure.

Now, he understood that it wasn’t his Muse anymore, but someone else’s.
Now, he understood that he had lost the right to adorn his thin sheets of paper with Jeonghan’s beautiful features.

He teared the paper he had been drawing on since his arrival, drawing Jeonghan’s attention for the first time in 3 years. Seungcheol didn’t care anymore, he just wanted to disappear.

However, in a surge of selfishness, he decided that he just couldn’t leave his passion unrevealed.
He wanted to believe that one day, Jeonghan will at the least look at one of his creation and exclaim on how good the artist have been to capture his features – or how bad he have been trying, it didn’t matter anymore.

He just wanted recognition.

And so went Seungcheol toward the couple, breaking the little bubble of plenitude they had locked themselves into. Without a word, he scrapped what he considered was the best portrait he had ever done of his Muse, and dropped it carefully at their feet.

Then he left, not waiting for any reaction, his soul crying and his body shaking like a man in a need for a fix.

May wasn’t a cherished month for him anymore,

and now, he couldn’t feel anything but emptiness.