Minji was content with her sketch book. It was her most prized possession, the one thing that she carried with her at all times, no matter where she went. The feel of the pencil sliding across the page in lines, seemingly random to a stranger to the art, that would end up creating something whole, something beautiful. Sketching brought a sense of peace to her in what was normally a busy, hectic life. It was her treasure, her safe place that she went when there was nowhere else; because, so often, there was nowhere else. Or even more, no one else.

Minji's life consisted of doing three things, not including sketching. She woke up, went to school, went to work and then came home to help her mother around the house. Her mom worked hard, trying desperately to save enough money up for her soon-to-be high school graduate only child to go to college. It was her mom's goal to make a better life for her daughter than the one that she had. Unfortunately, her mom's better life didn't include art.

"Mom, I'm home!" she called as she entered the door of her darkened apartment. It was late, approaching 9 o'clock and she knew that her mom was usually home at that point, finishing cleaning up dinner or sitting on their small couch watching a drama.

There was no answer to her call, however. After a quick search that took no more than two minutes she could decisively say that her mother wasn't home. It wasn't like it was the first time, nor was it that big of a deal. She was almost eighteen years old, she was capable of taking care of herself. She had been capable of taking care of herself since she started having to work at fifteen.

Her stomach grumbled, and after a glance inside the fridge she reached for her well-hidden emergency ramen stock. If her mom found it there would be no cooked food from her mother for weeks. Minji could cook, and she did sometimes when she knew that her mom would be extra busy at work and unable too, it was just that, after a long day with two exams at school and an even busier dinner shift at the diner she worked at she just didn't have the energy.

As she ate she mindlessly flipped through her sketch book. The faces of strangers stared back at her. It was all she ever drew: faces of strangers. In a city like Seoul there was no lack of subjects for her to choose from. She had all kinds of people in there: Korean people, foreign people, white people, black people, old people, happy people, troubled people, business people. The list could go on forever. She never targeted one demographic group because that was the beauty of sketching: there were no limits. However, there was one thing that remained the same in her art and that was the people. It was always people.

Behind her she heard the door click as the key turned in the lock and she jumped, quickly closing her sketch book and pushing it away from her. She was hoping that her mom would simply pass it off as a school notebook, but  her hopes vanished when her mom went straight to it.

"Hey honey, how was your day? Oh, what is this?"

Minji froze as her mom opened her sketch book to the first page. It was one of an older man wearing glasses and reading a newspaper. She had drawn it on her break at work, and when she was done she showed it to the man who nodded in approval.

"Oh Minji, are you drawing these silly pictures again? You know I wished you would stop wasting your time on them, they won't get you anywhere in life. You are so much like your father."

The disapproving look and head shake her mother sent her way spoke more than her words did and both made her feel like somebody had punched her right in the gut.

She reached for her sketch book, pulling it back to her and standing up. She slid on her shoes and pulled on a jacket before heading out the door, leaving her confused mother behind her.

It wasn't that she didn't love her mom. She did, really. It was more or less just that sometimes they got stuck and sometimes she began to be too much for her to bear. She knew that her mom meant best and only wanted her daughter to succeed in life, but sometimes she thought that her mom stopped wanting her to be happy.

Wandering down the sidewalk she tried to clear her head. The cool air of the November night helped a bit as it bit sharply across her skin, though she was warm enough in the thin jacket she wore. Her feet took her down a familiar path, one that she had treaded along a hundred times before. It lead to a park, one with lights and people. There was always somebody there, somebody that she could draw to get her head back out of the clouds before she would head back home.

She found him easily, he was under one of the street lamps even though it was a bright night, the full moon and stars shining even through the bright lights of the city. His back was towards the path along which were lined the benches that she normally sat in, but she knew the area well enough that if she walked a little farther she would find a rock that she could sit on to sketch his face.

At first she just watched him. She hadn't been able to tell from behind, but now that she was facing him she could see that he was painting something. That would explain why he was standing under the light. He didn't seem to notice her presence, however, as he hardly ever glanced up. She took to her work, only glancing up once in awhile as her photographic memory had allowed her to essentially memorize his face.

When she had finished she looked at her work, satisfied, and closed her sketch book and stood, stretching out her stiff back. As she made her way back she passed behind him, pausing to take a glance over his shoulder. The painting that he was working on was  of nothing in particular, nothing more than just the landscape of the park. It was beautiful, though, and the dark colors that he had used to paint the night scene gave it even more of a majestic feeling.

As she tore her eyes away from the painting she saw that he had turned and was staring right at her. Her eyes went wide in fright and she was sure that even in the darkness he could see her face get bright red.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, I-I was just looking at your painting. I'm sorry," she stammered out, unable to make eye contact with him at all.

"It's okay, I didn't mean to startle you," he said and she noted that his voice was pleasant, soft, but in a way powerful enough that made her sure that he could make himself be heard if he needed to be.

"It's okay, you didn't really. I was just...surprised to see you had turned is all. I like your painting, it is really beautiful," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and sincere. She did really like his painting, even if it wasn't really her style.

"You do?" he asked, voice excited, "I haven't decided whether or not I like it yet. It is my first time experimenting with painting a night landscape scene and I was a bit unsure of how to tackle it."

Minji nodded, pretending to follow what he was saying. Painting was something that she kind of stayed away from.

"I do like it, I think you did a good job with it. I'm sure your other works are amazing too," she complimented. The smile he gave her warmed her heart, and it was just then that she noticed just how young and handsome his face was. It had been harder to tell when she was working on drawing the mechanics of it, but now that she was close and could put the pieces together he was more handsome than her work gave him credit for.

"Thank you. Are, are you an artist too?" he asked as he glanced down at her sketch book that she was holding close to her chest.

"I, um, I sketch. Nothing like what you do, though," she answered, a bit bashful as she lowered her eyes.

"I'm sure you are better than you think you are. Would you share them with me?" he asked and she slowly shook her head. When she looked up she saw that his face had fallen a bit, clearly disappointed. It wasn't anything personal, just that she didn't like anybody looking at her work. It was something that she kept to herself for various reasons. Not like she could explain that though.

"It's okay, I was just curious. I'm Junhyung, by the way," he introduced himself and extended a hand which she shook awkwardly.

"Minji."

There was silence. Minji wanted to leave but wasn't sure how to make her departure seem natural, and he wouldn't stop looking at her.

"Well, um, I better go," she said and turned to walk away. Before she could take any more than five steps he called out to her.

"Hey, you have to be pretty cold from being out here so long, would you want to get a cup of tea with me?"

She paused, at first not turning around, but then something made her move and the next thing she knew she was turning and giving him a soft smile and a small nod.

By the end of the night they had exchanged numbers and, with an slightly awkward hug goodbye, had said that they would see each other soon.

What Minji hadn't expected was just how soon that would be.

 

Needless to say, she hadn't been expecting to see him the next day in the hallway of her high school. All it took was two quick steps and she around the corner and out of his sight. She just prayed that he hadn't seen her as she tried to calm her heart which had started beating faster for no reason at all.

Lunch was a little more difficult as it was an irregularly nice day for November and she had taken her packed lunch outside, sitting on the wall just outside her school.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she heard a semi-familiar voice ask her from behind. She didn't need to turn in order to know who it was.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know?" she retorted, taking a bite of her Kimbap.

She didn't get an immediate answer, though she heard the slight rustle of his jacket as he moved to sit beside her. She kept her eyes on her food, not daring to make eye contact.

"I go to school here," he answered and though she hadn't looked at him yet she could almost feel his eyes on her, watching her.

"Me too."

There was silence as she ate a little more. It didn't make sense to her why he was sitting there, waiting for God only knows what to happen. She obviously wasn't a very interesting person or else she would have friends to sit with at lunch, and not just eat by herself every day.

"It's a little cold to be eating outside, don't you think?" he asked, trying to break the thick silence that had settled around them.

She looked up at him then, and regretted it almost immediately. She had been right, he was looking at her. So intently too, as though she were the only thing interesting in the world.

"You didn't have to come out here, you know," she said. It hadn't been meant to come off as accusing, but now that she played it back in her head it had a bit.

"I walked past the door and saw you sitting outside here by yourself. I figured you might want somebody to talk to while you ate," he offered. If he had taken offense to her words, he wasn't showing it.

She wanted to tell him that it was no big deal, that she was used to eating alone, but she bit back her words. Why she was trying to push away a rather attractive boy who seemed to be paying her special attention she would never understand.

"Do you carry that everywhere?" he asked her after an awkward silence had ensued. She looked up at him, confused, but when she pointed to her sketch book that was sitting next to her she nodded.

"It never leaves me. Don't tell my mom, but sometimes I sleep with it under my pillow," she joked and when she saw him crack a small smile her heart fluttered.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," he said and as he did so he gave her a little nudge and she hoped that the slight flush she could feel going to her face didn't show too much.

"I think it shows just how dedicated you are, I bet you are really good," he said and if her face hadn't been red before it was now. She shook her head.

"I'm not, besides, you are so much better," she said and she heard him laugh at her modesty.

"Comparing painting and sketching is like comparing Earth to Mars. It doesn't work."

She laughed at his joke, though she knew he was right. It was all art, sure, but it required an entirely different skill set.

They both jumped as the bell rang within the school behind them. Minji hurriedly packed up her belongings, slinging her bag over her should. She was surprised to see that Junhyung had waited for her, and they walked up the steps together. As they entered the hall he turned to her, giving her a small wave.

"I'll text you later!" he called as he walked away.

Inside her gut lurched as she made her way to her next class.

 

That night, after work, Minji lay on her bed trying to study for an exam that she had the next day; and failing miserably. Her sketch book taunted her from where she had placed it across the room. All she had been wanting to do all day was draw, nothing else. The desire was eating away at her as she tried to accomplish other things.

Suddenly her phone buzzed beside her. She was confused. Her mom was the only person who ever really called or texted her and she was right in the other room, so it had to be somebody else. She stretched, picking it up and staring at the name on the screen.

Junhyung

She flipped open her phone and as she read the message she couldn't help but laugh a little at it.

'I can't seem to find my muse!'

Minji pulled open a reply message screen and started typing, reading it through at least five times before she hit send.

'I didn't know you had a muse.'

She waited, lying on her back with her phone resting on her stomach. It was only a few seconds before she felt her phone vibrate.

'I can't seem to find her, will she come?'

As she read it her smile grew and then she was on her feet, grabbing a jacket and rushing out the door, sketch book in hand.

When she got to the park she slowed to a walk, allowing her to catch her breath a bit. She paused when she saw him. His back was to her and he was intent on his painting, clearly focused and hard at work. She waited until she was close before she spoke.

"It doesn't look like you were missing your muse."

He turned and a wide, beaming smile greeted her. To a stranger the smile would seem out of place. He had a bit of a harsh demeanor, but Minji knew now that, beneath the leather jacket and dark tuffs of hair that fell into his eyes, Junhyung was actually quite sweet.

"As soon as I texted you I seemed to have found my inspiration. It must of been because I knew you were coming," he said and she couldn't help but laugh, taking a few steps forward so that she was standing next to him and admiring his work so far.

"I would never deprive an artist of his muse, we both know that would get ugly," she said, not taking her eyes off the piece of work in front of her.

It was silent for a bit as they stood in the dark. The sky was blacker than it had been the previous night, but under the shadowed light of the street lamp they could still see just fine.

"Minji."

She looked up as he said her name, his eyes clearly intent and focused on her and only her. A sly grin tugged at the corner of .

"Junhyung."

They stared for a second with nothing else in the world to distract them until a dog barked off in the distance and then they started laughing.

As they calmed down Junhyung picked up his brush again and Minji took a seat on a nearby rock, opening her sketch book.

"So, I have told you what my muse is, what is yours?" Junhyung asked as he started working again.

"I believe I already told you a secret today, so I think I deserve to hear another before I answer that," Minji taunted and he looked at her, jaw agape.

"So unfair."

"You were the one who wanted to know."

"Alright, alright," he whined a bit before hesitating, clearly contemplating what he was going to tell her.

"I sing in the shower, horribly," he admitted and she stifled a laugh.

"I don't believe that."

"Which part? The singing in the shower or the horribly?" he asked, smiling as she shook her head.

"Both, I guess."

"Well, they are both true, now I want to know what is your muse?" he pressed and she bowed her head, making small on the sketch of him that she was doodling as they talked.

"I don't have one."

He stopped working, staring at her while she continued working, eyes never looking up.

"That's not possible, you have to have one. Everybody does," he argued.

He truly believed that. Everybody had to have a muse, artist or not. Everybody needs something in life to inspire them.

"Well I don't," she said, looking up at him with flat eyes and he knew to let it go.

They worked silently for some time, the cool of the night set around them and Minji shivered in her jacket a little. It was pleasant, though, being able to draw and talk. It was something that she thought had been missing. Her subjects sometimes saw what she did, but it was hardly ever that she spoke to them during the process.

"What are you drawing?" he asked, and before she could close her book his hand was on it, stopping her.

He moved to stand behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Suddenly the chill of the evening was gone and her skin was on fire, though she didn't want to push away the source of that fire. Instead she felt the need to pull him closer.

"You drew me?" he asked, straightening. With his body gone from her proximity the cool air chilled her yet again.

"It's not finished yet," she said, bowing her head in embarrassment.

"I thought it looked really good, do you only sketch people?" he asked and she nodded.

She stood and went to look at his painting, which was almost entirely finished.

"Do you only draw landscapes?" she asked as she noted that the painting was similar to the one he had done the night before, only a little more refined.

"Yeah."

Junhyung placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder, and she turned to face him though he didn't move his hand. They looked at each other, eyes never wavering as he reached up with his other hand, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"It's getting pretty cold, I'll walk you home," he said and began packing up his things.

As they walked there was silence, but just as they were almost to her house he picked up her hand, giving it a squeeze. It was with a reluctance that she let go of his hand to leave, but in return she got a warm hug that set her soul to life.

 

"What are you smiling about over there? You never look that goofy when you paint," Minji called from where she was sitting on a bench watching Junhyung paint.

"Nothing, nothing. It is just a memory."

Minji shook her head and focused back on her sketch pad that rested in her lap. They had taken to meeting up after her work every night in the park. He would paint, working on honing his skills for painting a night landscape and her sketching him. Normally she didn't like to draw the same person twice, but with him it was different. She would draw his profile in different ways, even if he was standing or sitting in the same position over and over again.

"Hey, I was thinking, there is something else I want to show you," he called out to her, putting his brush down. She stopped her sketching to meet his eyes.

"Oh really? What is it?" she asked curiously.

"It's a secret," he said with a wicked grin.

It had become a bit of a game between them, their own little secret game. One would spill a secret one day, and the next the other had to tell. It was fun, though horrifying all at the same time. Minji had never let anybody that close to her before. In fact, aside from maybe her mom, Junhyung  knew more about her than anybody else.

They had packed up early and headed back to Junhyung's house. It was unusual for them to go somewhere other than the park, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. This time it was all for Junhyung to show her his 'secret' as he told her that he could just tell her.

He waved to his parents as they entered and then made their way up to his room. He motioned for her to sit on his bed as he went to his closet in search of something. When he turned she saw that he was holding a guitar.

"I thought you said you couldn't sing," she said, a bit confused.

"I can't, but I can play."

He took a seat next to her and tuned the strings. When he started playing it was a soft song. She recognized the melody. It was from a popular love song that she heard on the radio a lot at work.

When he finished she smiled at him.

"You know you could have just told me you played the guitar, you didn't have to bring me here to show me."

"I know, but would you have believed me? Besides, I wanted to play for you."

Minji shrugged, "Fair enough, I probably wouldn't have believed you if you told me anyway."

"There's something else too..." he got up to go over to where he had dumped his painting supplies when they came back. She was about to protest that it wasn't his turn to tell a secret when he grabbed the canvas he had been working on that night. He held it up in front of him, hiding his face with it.

Minji studied the painting. It looked like many of the others he had done, focused on landscape. But this one was a bit different because it wasn't just landscape. On one of the benches sat a person. It was a little rough, but she could make out that it was a girl with a sketch book.

"You painted me...but you only paint landscapes?" she asked confused.

He lowered the painting to show his face and shrugged.

"I figured it was time to expand my horizons, try something new."

Trying something new. That wasn't something Minji was comfortable with. Her life had been so routine for so long that anything new that came into her life threw her for a loop. But then she realized, she had something new. Junhyung was something new. She was closer to him than she had ever been to anybody else in her life and she liked it. She liked having someone understand her, someone who knew her secrets. She liked having someone to spend her time with, to talk with and draw with. Maybe, maybe something new wasn't so bad after all.

"Remember how you asked me what my muse was?" she asked and he simply nodded in response.

"I guess it is my dad," she paused, but started again before he could say anything.

"He left when I was just an infant. He abandoned me and my mom, leaving her to raise a child without a stable job or a college education. My father was an artist too, a painter. It's why I only sketch, I can't stand to be like him in that way. My mom always tells me that I am just like him and it is probably the worst insult she can give me. She hates that I draw, hates that I like art but I can't help it, it's in my blood. I don't even remember what he looks like, but when I draw I feel close to him. I think I only sketch people because I'm searching for him. Maybe one of the faces that I draw will be him, or look like him. I don't even have any pictures."

It was words, a lot of words and a lot of feelings. It was more than she had ever let out to anyone, even to her mom. It was probably more than she had ever admitted to herself, but it was out now. It was all out and she trusted it to Junhyung, to the boy that changed his artistic pattern to include her in it. Who played her a love song on a guitar, who spent hours talking to her while she worked.

"You can't not draw if it's a part of you," he said and she almost laughed.

Of all that she had told him, he pulled out the only part that actually mattered to reassure her. It didn't matter who her father was or what he did. All that really mattered was the present: who she was and what she wanted.

She picked up her sketch book and walked over to him, opening it up to the last page. It was the picture she had drawn of him that night.

"You told me two secrets tonight, so this is my second one," she said as she flipped through the pages. There were numerous drawings of him, but as they got to some of the older ones they were of strangers that she had drawn without them knowing.

"Minji, these are really good. There really is no way you can stop," he said when they were back at the beginning.

She smiled, maybe that was it. Maybe, sometimes it was good to start at the end and go back to the beginning. She could end her old life right then. Be rid of the boring Minji who had nobody, who was nobody and be the Minji that lived life because she wanted to. She was letting go of all that had haunted her and starting new.

"I think it is my turn to tell you another secret since you told two and I told two tonight," she paused and swallowed, nerves getting to her though she was confident in what she was going to say.

"I like you."

Junhyun smiled down at her, reaching out and grabbing her hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I don't think this is much of a secret, but I like you too," he said with a smile and bent down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Starting over could indeed be quite a wonderful thing. Sometimes, you just have to go back to the beginning to get it right the second time.