Yukihide Shota sulked, walking with his head bowed down. He brought his painting that was supposed to be in the art exhibition the following week, but his professor rejected his work. 

"What kind of artwork is this? Are you sure this is going to be in the exhibition?" Professor Harada, commented harshly, even though he was the one who supported Yukihide to join the exhibition. He believed in Yukihide's talent.

Yukihide never thought that his professor would also be the one who rejected his artwork. He still remembered vividly the reason why he was rejected.

"If you paint something without meaning behind the painting, there's no need to display that in the exhibition. Every time you paint, you must understand your object. Without it, your talent is meaningless."

Yukihide went pale. Professor Harada pitied him, so he gave Yukihide another chance to submit the painting for the exhibition. The problem was the deadline. Only one week left before the exhibition. How could he possibly finish it for a week? He even hasn’t planned what painting he would make.

Suddenly, someone put an arm on his shoulder. He stiffened a bit before realizing it must be his best friend, Imai Seiki. No one dared to do this to Yukihide except that guy. They’ve been best friends since they were in high school. 

“Something’s wrong?” Imai asked.

Yukihide leaned his head on Imai’s shoulder, “Professor Harada rejected my painting for the exhibition, but at least he gave me one more chance. Just one week left.”

Imai stopped abruptly, making Yukihide do the same thing, “So, you only get one week to paint? Are you sure you can do it?” He looked worried.

Imai knew his best friend so well. Giving one week to paint? Yukihide might not be sleeping or eating well for a week, too.

Perfectionist. Yes. Imai called him a perfectionist. Yukihide always put his one hundred percent effort into everything. His determination is his plus point, but he always forgets to take care of himself most of the time. Aside from becoming his friend, Imai also became his manager—reminding him to eat and sleep.

“I didn’t say no. Besides, it has been my dream to have my artwork displayed in the exhibition.”

Imai stood in front of him “You’re still in the second semester. There’s still plenty of time to show your artwork. It doesn’t have to be this year, right?”

“Yeah, I know, but....” He pleaded.

The reason Yukihide tried so hard to be in the exhibition was to show his father that his choice to be an art student was the right choice. His father wanted him to be a doctor. Realizing that becoming a doctor wasn’t his passion, he disobeyed his father and chose an art major.

He already invited his father to come to the exhibition, so he couldn’t back down. He had to finish the painting, no matter what happened.

“Yukihide, your father will understand your situation. No need to push yourself too hard.”

“No, he won’t understand. He will use this reason to move me out of art major and I won’t let it happen to me.”

“Hey, hey,” Imai put his hands on Yukihide’s shoulder, “I don’t mind you painting for 24 hours, but I will always remind you to eat and sleep, okay?”

Yukihide nodded and smiled. Imai checked his watch, then bid him goodbye. He had another class in two minutes. Even though they took the same major, they had different classes most of the time.

“Meet me at the canteen later, yeah? I’ll call you, okay?” Imai ruffled Yukihide’s hair. Sometimes Imai acted like a boyfriend to Yukihide. In fact, they weren’t even lovers.

He didn’t answer, but Imai wouldn’t let him leave before answering, “Fine. Let’s go grab something to eat later.”

“Good. See ya!”

Yukihide inhaled deeply. He had to think about his painting. New ideas wouldn’t come easily. Given a very short time, he didn’t know what to do. He then went to the painting room—a place where students usually found inspiration. Unfortunately, the place was too crowded. Yukihide couldn’t think clearly in the crowd.

The only place that was quiet and peaceful was the storage room. It looked more like an unused classroom than a storage room. It was on the west part of the campus, not far from the canteen. Yukihide walked there before his mood to paint went away.

The storage room was dark and damp. The smell of dust and fungi made Yukihide cover his nose and mouth. He blindly searched for the lamp switch. Turned out that the lamp was quite bright. He put his canvas near the window. He liked to paint there, so every time he felt bored he could see outside the room.

But this time, someone put something in front of the window. It was covered by a dusty black cloth. The dust made him think twice before he moved that thing far from the window. The black cloth fell down.

It was actually a mirror. A big mirror with a wooden carved frame. 

Yukihide was startled when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He thought there would be dust on the surface, but there was none of it. His reflection seemed so clear—he could see tiny dots of his shaved mustache.

As if he was addicted to seeing his own reflection, Yukihide moved the mirror right across his canvas, so that every time he painted, he could still see himself. He had never been a narcissistic person before, but the mirror has given him more confidence.

Yukihide shook his head. Too long watching his own reflection was not a good idea. He had to think of an idea for his new painting. His previous painting was so ordinary—scenery. Probably he should change it to something more personal and meaningful. He considered painting his mother or his sister.

But as he looked up from his canvas to see the mirror, he was beyond shocked.

He saw someone in the mirror and it wasn’t his reflection.

His trembling hand touched the mirror’s surface. It definitely wasn’t his face. Even the hair was different. This had to be a hallucination. He rubbed his eyes several times hoping that everything was temporary, but nothing had changed.

The guy in his reflection has round-shaped eyes, a prominent jawline, and a pair of thick eyebrows. Those features were so beautiful to be painted. Instead of being scared of the change, Yukihide had made the guy in the mirror his inspiration to paint.

He didn’t wait too long to start painting. He picked up his brush and began. His brush danced on the canvas. Line by line had started to become the shape of the guy’s face. Yukihide smiled and his reflection did the same—that guy’s smile was contagious and surely Yukihide started to like the smile. His painting became nicer if that guy smiled.

Time had flown so fast, Yukihide forgot he had made a promise to Imai to have lunch. He ignored Imai’s calls, in fact, he turned off the phone that might cause him to lose focus when painting. He had been painting for about three hours straight—he even forgot his hunger.

There were fifteen missed calls from Imai and several messages too. He regretted ignoring his best friend. Imai must be so angry. He rushed to pack his bag, brought his canvas and hurried to meet Imai. But before that, he covered the mirror with black cloth. For the last time that day, Yukihide traced his fingers on the mirror.

“See you tomorrow,” He whispered.

***