A/N: My melancholic mood wrote this. I tried to write something happy and funny for Two Magnaes in Love and Loveable Annoyance, but when it wasn't working I came back to this. I've set aside a week to watching k-dramas in order to brighten my mood and hopefully get ideas flowing.

I've decided to post some other pieces I have been writing. A word of WARNING though; I don't know if I'll ever finish these - they're just story lines that pop into my head, and that I typed up. Other than that, Enjoy!

To Fashion - 1

It was absurd.

After all the sweat and toil he had put into the project, the countless all-nighters, all the broken promises with his family and what did it get him? A pat on the back and an absentminded smile, while his team leader took the credit.

He understood that in this industry, seniority was everything and that respect came only with time. He understood that as a young designer, his opinions meant as much as the fabric scraps littered in the sewing room. To the designer, you were nothing more than an extra set of hands.

He understood all that and he had experienced all of that. But it still hurt.

He had shared his designs with his leader on a whim, proud of them but expected nothing more than a cursory glance. However, when his team leader had chosen his designs as the concept for their next project, Ryeowook had been over the moon.

For six months, he lived and breathed those designs. If he wasn't in the sewing room, he was at the fabric store. If he wasn't in the fabric store, he was in the sewing room. Months of cutting and stitching and fitting became a blur, but it meant nothing to Ryeowook if the clothes weren't perfect.

And at the end, they were. He could say that with every ounce of confidence he possessed. He remembered crying after he had finished. The emotional attachment he had to that collection would seem ridiculous to the average person, but to Ryeowook, they represented the realization of a dream. His designs were finally reality.

Then everything came crashing down. The collection astounded everyone in the company, but no one knew they were his.

"I am honored that my designs have been so well received." Those words haunted him. That they came straight out of the mouth of his team leader broke something inside him that day, because unfortunately for him, he had been in love with Lee Sungmin. Not only had his designs been stolen and his trust in his team leader broken, his heart was left scarred with a wound of betrayal.

Ryeowook vowed that he would never forgive Sungmin for using his work to further his own career.

The first week after the incident, he was in a perpetual state of hatred. He had been smart enough to resign from the company, offering no explanation or notice. If he had stayed, he would have probably done something that he would regret later. When the hatred coalesced into numbness, the bitterness came. It colored his words, his thoughts, and even his art. His sketchpad had lain useless in his bag, untouched since the incident. Instead, he passed each day playing melancholic music on his piano.

His family worried about him constantly. Gone were the soft smiles and nurturing disposition that Ryeowook had been known for. Instead, they were replaced with hard stares and silence. In panic, his family had begged him to take a break. They suggested going to visit his cousin in France. Looking at the blank pages of his sketchpad, Ryeowook had agreed.

So now here he was, on a plane heading for the capital of the fashion world itself, Paris. Internally, he felt no excitement. Only numbness.

He wanted to forget, to put all that had happened behind him, but his heart wouldn't let him forget. He could only hope being in a new environment would distract him enough to allow him to draw again. He missed his carefree nature that had allowed him to draw whimsical and romantic pieces. Would he ever be able to again?

Looking down at the passing landscape below him, Ryeowook felt no amazement at seeing the rolling hills and vast greenery below him. Turning away from the window, he slumped into the uncomfortable airline seat and let his head fall back onto the headrest. The flight would last for two more hours. Since he hadn't slept for the other four hours of the flight, he figured he should try to get to some rest now.

Turning the volume up louder on his iPod, he drifted off to the sound of Mozart.

000

He woke up abruptly when the man sitting next to him not so gently elbowed him as he tried to get up from his seat. Looking out the window, he realized that they had already landed. All around him, passengers were standing up and collecting their belongings. Of course, the aisle was jammed as everyone tried to get to their luggage at the same time.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was a little before ten. They had arrived early. He took off his headphones and stashed them in his satchel along with his iPod.

Slowly, the aisle began to clear as people trudged off the plane. Finally, Ryeowook deemed it safe to move into aisle. Moving towards the front of the plane, he squeezed by a burly man removing his luggage from the overhead compartment. He gave a short nod to the flight attendants' well wishes before finally exiting the stuffy plane.

Walking into the terminal, it finally hit Ryeowook that he was no longer in Korea. It wasn't Korean that he heard around him, but the sounds of rapid French. He let out an unconscious smile. He was in France.

Looking back at the door he had just went through, Ryeowook made a decision. It was useless to cling to his hurt and anger. What good did it do but prevent Ryeowook from doing what he loved? He needed to focus on the present. How much better could it be that he was in Paris, the motherland of fashion? He would take in all that Paris could teach him and become an even better designer. Screw Sungmin. He would become a famous designer of his own right. That was a promise.

000

A/N: Thanks for reading.