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Summary
You were a painter, once.
But that was before.
Before the accident that crushed both your hand and your dreams, snatching away the future you'd planned for yourself in an instant. Your bones would mend, yes, but not the same. It wasn't the same. It would never be the same.
Though you wouldn't - no, couldn't - bring yourself to paint now, that didn't change that you could teach. That you held knowledge beyond that of most. Knowledge that held value to those who still had the privelege to dream the artist's dream - to dream your dream.
Despite your initial reluctance to the idea, a gentle push from your mother - the threat of institutionalization had you not done something aside from rotting away in bed, alone, in the dark - made you much more agreeable.
Your pupil, a beautiful boy by the name of Hyunjin, had a very peculiar way of getting under your skin depite his pure intentions. Teaching him was infuriating, the ease of which he picked up on your methods serving only as a reminder of what you'd lost.
Hyunjin, however - despite your abrasiveness - was determined to learn - about painting, and you.