How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams." —Bram Stoker
A soft breeze filled his lungs as he closed his eyes briefly and relaxed against the tree he was siting under. The open air was nice after a long day of classes coped up in a building. Re-opening his eyes he continued to sketch the scene before him, taking special note of detail before noticing something out the corner of his eye. He turned to see a pair of legs. His gaze quickly following them up to the face of the stranger before him. Confused, he tilted his head slightly. Did he know this boy? “Do… Do I know you?” He asked, hoping he didn’t strike off as rude.
“Oh, no”, Taemin let out without a preamble, as he sank down fluidly into a crouch, head cocked to the side as his gaze danced over the sketched scene, and then up to look at it in all its real splendour. “I was wondering who was drawing”, he said as he did, words vaguely distant as his focus was more so upon what he was looking at. But only for a moment longer, before he snapped back into focus, looking to the face of the young man and flashing him a brief grin. “I followed the sound, and here you are. It’s looking good so far, Mr…?” he trailed off, the expectant tone in his voice giving away how he was fishing for a name.