Break Into My World

11: Ringing

Hours.

Hwanwoong felt like he stared at that sketchbook cover for hours.

K.Y.J.

They are initials, obviously, but what do they mean?

Hwanwoong knew the boy in the mirror as Ravn, but is that even his real name?

Or are they just the initials of some art company, because they very well could be and Hwanwoong just doesn't know it.

But something in his gut told him that the letters deal with Ravn in a more personal way. After all, in his dream the boy was holding this very sketchbook, he wasn't seen with it for no reason. The initials are...they just have to be something bigger than just three letters engraved into a leather cover. The initials are further proof that what Hwanwoong saw in his bizarre dreams could be reality. Proof that perhaps the boy in the mirror wasn't always a boy in a mirror.

"That's just crazy talk." Hwanwoong muttered to himself, slightly tilting his head to the side. "Does he even know about this?"

Pushing all of the unknowns aside for the time being, Hwanwoong got the sleep that he really needed. It was dreamless, thank goodness, so when he woke up he felt well rested. Or actually enough rested to process the information around him, truly take it in and make note of certain things. He was still a little tired after the eventful night, which is totally understandable.

Ravn was no where in sight.

Hwanwoong decided to take advantage of the absence, quietly getting out of bed and getting dressed. He lowered himself to the floor, reaching under his bed at the dust covered mess. One by one Hwanwoong pulled out each and every item.

He looked over every page for clues, meaning behind why it was there. But at last Hwanwoong found nothing other than very beautiful pieces of art. Canvases painted with intricate designs, pages of sketchbooks filled with color, even the unfinished projects seemed like the most amazing thing Hwanwoong's laid eyes on.

Everything was signed with K.Y.J.

Hwanwoong sneezed, the dust starting to get to his allergies.

The more that he sat on the floor, looking through everything, the more he felt like he shouldn't be doing this. Hwanwoong kind of felt like he was looking at stuff he shouldn't be looking at. He was invading someone's privacy. But then again, this stuff was all disregarded under the bed. Perhaps one of the others would know who it belonged to.

But even that thought was rejected. I should put this all back where I found it. I don't think I should show it to anyone, not even Ravn. Not yet. Not until I learn a bit more about what's going on.

Quietly, Hwanwoong returned everything to it's original place, or at least under the bed. It was a more organized mess than before to say the least.

After putting what he thought was everything back, Hwanwoong turned his attention to the top of his bed, where the original sketchbook he found rested. The one thing that he was most interested in, but for some reason hasn't gone through yet. He pulled himself up onto the surface, sitting with his legs hanging off the side of the bed.

Carefully, Hwanwoong undid the string holding the sketchbook closed, afraid it'd break at any little movement. Page after page, Hwanwoong was lost in a daze. It seemed like this sketchbook was used as an emotional dump. One page revealed a sad drawing, then the next would scream anger, then complete joy before turning into uncertainty.

Hwanwoong believed he saw every namable emotion within the pages of the old sketchbook. And it was literally as easy as flipping a page to tell what could have been going through the owners head. Every piece of work had it's own meaning, some obviously easier to figure out than others. Endless amounts of color, yet just as much greyscale, bold lines, or nonexistent borders, a clear image or thought, but with careless mistakes. Hwanwoong saw it all.