Only On Paper / JJK

Prologue

You had been staring at your sketch pad for a good thirty minutes now, trying to rack your brain for some sort of inspiration. Something quick and easy. Perhaps of fruit or a cluster of hearts. Anything. But you couldn't just get your hand to move. You had been in a rut for a week. You haven't had any inspiration whatsoever, and it makes you want to destroy all the paintings in the room. This time it'll be done on purpose and not due to your unpredictable clumsiness.

With a sigh, you close the pad. The paper is as blank as your mind. You wonder if there is something wrong with you, but remember all artists at one point or another experience an inspirational block.

You know you need to take a break and come back with a fresh perspective. You're desperate. Plus, a change of scenery wouldn't hurt. You have been cooped up in your studio for hours on end, hoping for a spark. You haven't seen much except for the four colorless walls and your sketchpad. They certainly hadn't given you much to work with.

So you leave the room and head to the closest park you can find. You hurry, wanting to rid the stress that's made you feel twice as heavy. You want to think about anything other than art.

When you reach the Seoul Grand Park, the overgrown trees full of rosy pink blossoms, your focus goes entirely into their beauty. It takes your breath away, literally, along with your worries about your next piece. Your block is put on hold as you inhale the sweet scent the cherry blossoms give.

You hug the loose tan coat tighter around your body as the cool breeze rushes past you. It's a bit chilly. Nothing you can't handle. You just tuck your hands into the coat pockets and close your eyes, basking in the wind and the small peeks of sunlight through the tree branches.

"Look! The petals are falling."

The voice breaks you out of your trance. Instinctively, you bring a hand to your cheek only to feel the coolness of your skin. You forgot to wear your mask. You had been in such a rush you'd left it on your desk, but you don't need it to glance up and watch a few of the petals glide down to your feet.

You dip your head and reach to pick up one of the petals. It feels soft between your fingertips. It would've be romantic had you been dating anyone, but you're alone. The only man in your life is the one you've been constantly dreaming about.

Your heart stills. The inspiration you need hits you like the coolness of the wind against your cheeks. You turn on your heel to head back, moving through the crowd that gathers to watch the beginning of winter.

You're almost out when you bump into someone, but you don't think to stop. You only mumble an apology, and you're gone, back to your studio where your mind gets lost in that dream world as you remember every detail of his face.

By the time you're done, you're exhausted. You don't take a moment to admire your creation, and you don't make it to your own bed to fall asleep.

You slump on the couch, letting your eyes flutter shut. The first thing you dream about is of that man, not knowing that while you slept, your drawing fades away from the paper, and a soft glow emits at the furthest corner of the room.