Green

Grass

Flowing

He tried his hardest to mimic the motion of the wind that blew through the grass that was slightly grown out but not enough to where it looked unkempt. His paint brush mixing in the greens and yellows to create the perfect shade of color. That color where the sun met the ground.

 He tried making each lean slightly to the side so that you could tell that the blades were being blown. He tried to create an almost wave like effect on the canvas to convey the ripples that were being made by the wind.

His attempt was a fail.

He dropped his brush onto the sheet below him for the umpteenth time that day. He hated this. Hands stopped copying what he saw in his imagination. Imagination soon stopped imagining.

 His inspiration left along with the pale faced beauty with jet black hair who stormed out of his shabby, one bedroom apartment that lacked proper heating and no shower. Just a big drain in the middle of the floor and a curtain rod running across the middle of the ceiling. It had crappy water pressure and almost always nothing to eat besides ramyeon.

She was tired she said.

She couldn't deal with his dream of being an artist. She couldn't carry him with her job. The landlord had already threatened to kick them both out that month. Rent was three payments behind. He hadn't sold a painting in 6 months. He was pathetic and his talent was useless and she had grown so very tired of his artistic dream.

She walked out with her bags in hand after he refused to get a regular 9-5 and put down his canvas. He could feel a breakthrough he had told her. Someone was going to buy a painting soon. But she left him and called him worthless.  She said that nobody wanted his depressing visuals because they all reflected how dark and empty he actually was. She said that his swirls of black and grey were too much and that people liked scenery paintings instead. She left him and told him to grow up right before she closed the door.

And here he was, sitting in a park; painting the scenery, with no success. The painting was lackluster in every sense of the word.

See Ji Yong's art was connected to his emotions. His emotion always connected to whomever he loved or was intrigued with at the time. His intrigue was gone. His muse was gone.

He leaned back on his elbows and let his head fall backwards. The sun warming his face as he closed his eyes and imagined a world where he was free to be artistic and nobody would give a damn about who his parents were. They would only see Ji Yong. Not the Kwon family name attached that meant his father was the head of big business. A father who didn’t approve the dream of his son purely because it wasn’t what he himself planned for his child.

 No child of mine is going into art. The business is yours for the taking. I won't support someone who is throwing away everything I've worked so hard to provide for him.

"I don't think you should lean back into the sun like that. Your neck looks like it’s gonna break."

Ji Yong opened one eye to the voice that came from somewhere, someone, above him.

"What if I want it to break?"

He watched the boy, his curiosity peaking. He studied the boys’ features, noting them in his brain for later. Innocent eyes with dark circles. Not too much of a difference between the area under his eyes and the rest of his complexion. He just looked...sleepy. His voice had a bit of an edge. A childish edge with a tone that was deep enough for him to know that this kid wasn’t as young as he looked.

And this kid had the nerve to roll his eyes at him.

"Why would you want to do that? Then you would need a cast and casts aren't fun and they get really itchy and I'm sure an itchy neck isn't something you want! I had a cast once when I broke my arm. I was climbing up a tree trying to get my baseball glove a bully threw up there and when I grabbed it I slipped and fell and braced myself on my arm and  crack I  had a fracture. My mom flipped out and cried that I would be crippled on that side for the rest of my life. "No my little boy is hurt what will we do!" I was fine though. Doctor said I healed in record time. Oh! I'm Lee Seunghyun by the way. And you are?"

Ji Yong blinked his eyes a few times while his head tried to play catch-up and process everything that was just said. And he said it so fast! This kid wasn't even out of breath! How was he supposed to answer? What was the first comment? Oh right, his name.

"I-Um...." He cleared his throat "Ji Yong. Kwon Ji Yong."

"I've heard that name.....oh well! You look lonely Ji Yong hyung! Mind if I sit?"

He didn't even have time to respond before the boy sat next to him. So instead he chuckled to himself and moved his paints out of the way. Last thing he wanted was green paint on the boys’ ...he couldn't afford to buy more at the moment to replace it if that happened.

"Hyung? Do I look like a hyung?"

He asked with a smirk on his lips.

The boy, Seunghyun, countered with attitude. "Well How old are you?"

"21."

"See you’re my hyung! I'm 19. Well I will be in December. When is your birthday?"

Seunghyun was beaming.

"Um it just past actually. It was in August."

"Oh so you just turned 21?! That means I owe you a gift huh? Hmm....what can I get for you? I don't make much money. I work as a dance instructor at the studio around the corner. I teach the little kids. I'm sure they could help me make something for you! Or! I could dance for you! Would you like me to dance for you? I'm a really great dancer hyung."

Seunghyun fished his phone out of his pocket and played the most upbeat song he could find with enough bass and drums to prove that he was indeed a great dancer and that he could indeed hit every pop and lock you could imagine. Shoulders swirling, arms doing things of their own accord; he was really attempting a moon walk in the middle of a busy park just to prove his point.

And Ji Yong just might have found his new subject.

Cute