Chapter Text
FIRST ACT.
Yoo Joonghyuk silently stared at the painting before him, his eyes lowered and solemn. His figure dressed in black stood very much in contrast to the colourful and lively strokes on the canvas; and thus, unsurprisingly, stood out from the crowd at the art gallery as well. Not that it was a huge crowd, anyway.
Standing as straight as an arrow with a tense expression on his face, he was about to inch closer to the canvas when he heard a clear chuckle sounding from behind him. "Why do you look so serious?" He pursed his lips; he wasn't sure whether it was amusement or curiosity that he heard in the person's voice, or perhaps it was neither, really.
Joonghyuk turned around warily, only catching sight of an attractive young man not taller than him. He paused for a moment before slightly knitting his brows, "What's it to you?"
The man's eyes widened noticeably, as he raised his hands, flustered. "Nothing, really! It's just-" His gaze flickered to the canvas. "I noticed that you were, uh, looking at my painting. So, I got a little curious, y'know?" Joonghyuk stilled. "You painted that?"
The shorter (just by a bit, he promises - if you can call 8cm 'a bit', anyway) man nodded, a grin plastered on his face. "You like it? I worked pretty hard on it - moved my hands. A lot. Actually, a lot more than I thought." He muttered the last line under his breath, then going on to mumble about how he's never going to trust someone named Han Suhong, or whatever it was, ever again.
"No, I don't," Joonghyuk didn't know why he said that, and the frown he could feel hanging on the corner of his lips told him he didn't want to know why either. The man flinched, but broke into a smile again, "Well, that's okay. To like or not to is subjective, either wa-" "I looked at it because it was terrible."
He didn't know why he said that too. He really didn't mean to. He really didn't, but he just did.
And now, the pretty, bright orbs of light in the man's eyes flickered into nothingness. And it was all his fault.
'I really didn't mean t-'
Devoid of even the slightest hint of anger, the man just let out an embarassed chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Is that so? Well, yeah, I'm really bad at art, sorry. I'll work on my, uh, skills then. Thanks."
Then, avoiding his eyes, he hurriedly walked away.
Joonghyuk clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut.
'Sorry.'
SECOND ACT.
The muslin curtain lifts, ever-so gently carried by the midnight breeze. It's not as cool as it sounds though, it's actually pretty hot since it's summer right now. Yoo Joonghyuk leaned onto the balcony railing, his phone on its 4th ring as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
"Joonghyuk-ssi? Is there something going on?" A tired yawn went through the speakers.
"Yoo Sangah, I need you to get me something."
"Huh...? Can't this wait until-"
"No. It's urgent." The woman let out a very (very) audible sigh, and merely hummed in response.
"Earlier today, there was this painting named-"
"A painting? When did you like art?"
"Never. But as I was saying, there was this painting named 'Beneath the Clouds' by Kim... Kim Dokja," he paused, "At the Seoul Museum of Art. I want it."
Yoo Sangah clicked her tongue, "Boyfriend?"
"No, he's not!" Joonghyuk shouted, his lips trembling a little as he rushed to hang up. Lightly brushing his fingertips over his mouth, he bit the inside of his cheek as he attempted to calm down.
'It's just a little chilly, that's all.'
THIRD ACT.
Kim Dokja woke up to the incessant, irritating and absolutely enraging sound of his phone ringing. After the 7th ring, he finally couldn't take it anymore and snapped, "What the fuck is it? Say it quick or shut up!"
"Well, well, well. What a good best friend you are, hm?" Hearing the familiar voice utterly dripping with sarcasm, he huffed and arched an eyebrow, flashing a mischievous smile that she fortunately wasn't there to see. "I know I am, but I would be better if you didn't call me at 10 in the morning!"
The person on the opposite end snorted, "10am isn't the new 6am, do you think you're the Sleeping Beauty or something, huh?"
He rolled his eyes, "So, what is it you called me for, Your Royal Highness Sooyoung?" Reminded of her original intention, which is to relay good news, Han Sooyoung immediately shrieked. "Right! Remember your painting which got featured at SeMA?"
Dokja paused, and the events from yesterday flooded back into his mind like a murderous swarm of bees. "Yeah?" The word came out cracked, barely a whisper. Noticing that, he quickly cleared his throat.
"Somebody bought it for 45 million won! Sangah-ya apparently works for that guy and last night, he called us while we were-"
"Yes, we can skip the TMI part."
"Oh, yes, sorry. Too excited. As I was saying! He called us last night, and asked to buy your painting directly. Did you meet a rich sugar daddy and not tell me?" The last line was practically a screech - in fact, it sounded inhuman, honestly. But Dokja wouldn't tell her that. She'd rip him apart, otherwise.
"I did not. I didn't think that someone would actually buy my painting... Are you sure they asked for mine?"
"Well, yeah! They mentioned your name and your work's title. Anyway, Sangah-ya is making snacks right now so I need to go. I asked Hyunsung-ssi to pass the cash envelope to you, so expect him to knock on your door anytime now, okay? Bye!"
Hearing this, the corner of his lips twitched and he put the phone aside immediately.
'Jeez. She's down so fucking bad.'