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Jisung is going to kill Seungmin. He’s going to kill Seungmin and then set his psychology degree on fire. He swears he doesn’t use his mindfuck powers on Jisung, but Jisung knows better. It’s not like an office job. You don’t clock in and out and leave the work at the building. Jisung knows his friend analyses him, even when he refuses to admit it. He’s sure of it.
You should go out more, Han-ah.
You should meet new people.
When was the last time you went somewhere new? Tried a new food? A new drink, even?
Jisung disagrees with the notion he doesn’t try new things entirely. Three years ago, he and Minho discovered a new restaurant and have been regulars ever since. That counts. He also switched from peach soju to grape one and that was a big one. He’s a man of change. He steps out of his comfort zone all the time.
He probably should have stolen a sedative from Seungmin’s bag before coming here, thought. Seungmin might not have the drugs-prescription degree, but he sure does use them himself sometimes, Jisung knows. He can’t be fooled. No one is that calm, even with all the yoga.
Let it be known Jisung also tried yoga once, with Seungmin and that ended in a week long couch rot because his whole body hated him afterwards, so. Maybe trying out new things isn’t always so fun and good or even safe.
It definitely doesn’t feel safe right now. Art gallery visits are not a single person activity, surely. He’s never been to one before, but he’d imagine you take a friend. A boyfriend, if you’re lucky. Which Jisung is, as you can guess from the mentioned yoga debacle, very much not.
But with his best friend since diapers being swooned away by his new boyfriend and Seungmin scheduling his sessions so late in the afternoon because he’s a good therapist who adjusts to his clients’ needs, Jisung is all on his own. Left to fend for himself in this rather sterile environment. The walls are so white it’s hurting his eyes, but he supposes that’s the point – to make the paintings pop, or whatever.
They are handing out champagne and he hates the taste but he still took a glass, just to have something to do with his hands. He figured pockets were an asshole stance while looking at art, surely. Also, putting them on the small of his back always makes him feel like an old man and he tries to minimize those moments as much as possible.
So, here he is. Art gallery, all alone, now warm champagne in his hand, walking around. Taking it in. He’s so normal and well adjusted. He guesses the other people here aren’t even looking at him, really. No one is whispering to their partner about this poor soul wandering the expansive halls all alone, not even drinking that champagne he picked up half an hour ago, oh my god, look at him, the freak, why is he even here and the way he’s scanning the art, it’s so obvious he doesn’t know anything about it, performative little shit—
Jisung takes a deep breath. He’s fine. It’s okay. People don’t give a shit. They came here to look at art. They probably love art, most of them. Art lovers in an art gallery. It’s probably not anyone else’s first time, even. If it is, no one is doing a pathetic job of displaying it like he is, that’s for sure.
He needs to focus. Seungmin hates when he uses the phrase lock in, but it’s what he needs to do. He reminds himself Seungmin isn’t actually his therapist, he’s just a friend who happens to be a therapist but Jisung can never really shake off that need to make him proud, not be judged by him, impress him in any small way he can. Parade himself around like – look, I can do the life thing, you know? You see? Totally doing it and not fucking it up. Good, right?
So he already told Seungmin he’s going to an art gallery, all by himself, to hold himself accountable. That means the next time they meet up for coffee, Seungmin will ask about it and Jisung would rather die than admit he spent the whole time wondering if his posture was right or if maybe his breathing was too loud in the too quiet space. He will find some art to tell Seungmin about.
He’s seen many paintings this evening, but he’s afraid he was too in his own brain to register any. He tries to recall and falls short, just a jumbled mess of colorful flowers and blurry faces passing through, with none sticking out. He walks towards one that catches his attention.
It’s blue. Mostly blue, the entire background a lovely shade of blue with a few elements that aren’t connected. Jisung loves blue. This is very close to his favorite shade, actually, just a bit darker, but still as captivating. There is a red… stain? Blob? A girl in a pink dress, or is it a skirt? She’s walking towards the door. A bunch of black lines. A plane, an even darker shade of blue.
He reads the artist’s name next to it. He has to bend down a little and squint. Glasses didn’t go with his outfit, tonight, okay? And also, he imagined there wouldn’t be much reading required at an art gallery, but. Whatever. It’s a cool painting. Maybe he can look up the painter when he’s home and he has more cool stuff. Maybe Jisung will become an art person.
Hwang Hyunjin, it says. Never heard of him. Then again, Jisung hasn’t heard of any artists born after the renaissance, so. Doesn’t say much. He knew a Hwang girl in high school, used to think he had a crush on her before—
“Do you like it?”
“Oh fuck!” Jisung whisper yells, probably still too loud, but he has to focus on not spilling his champagne or tripping over his feet and going face first into the wall. Or even worse, the painting.
He looks for the source of the voice and finds what must be an angel who made a wish to become human, to hang out around mere mortals and bless them all with his beauty. The man is taller than Jisung – not a difficult thing to accomplish, but still – it’s the first thing he notices. He has long hair, probably shoulder length or so if he lets it free, but it’s slicked back with gel and it looks really good. When Jisung tried to use hair gel, he looks like he got licked by a cow. He’s also wearing glasses. Because he knew there would be names to read, because he goes to art galleries often, probably.
Although, Jisung thinks a little deliriously, he looks more like a piece that should be hung to gaze upon instead.
Other than the glasses, which will be appearing in Jisung’s wildest fantasies from tonight until he dies, the guy has on a pair of simple black slacks and a silky, burgundy dress shirt tucked into them. He looks like a sexy vampire. Well, Jisung supposes, all vampires are sexy, so just a regular vampire then. He doesn’t have champagne with him.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” The stranger gestures with his hands in front of Jisung’s face and truly, this s just god being cruel to Jisung now, because those fingers are so long. They have rings on them. His hands look so pretty. A little roughed up, maybe? From working out? Jisung is so gay.
“No, no, all good.” he says in what he hopes is a normal tone of voice and not the squeaky, terrified mouse one, because he feels like it right now. “I’m just an easily, um, startled… person. Yeah.”
Could have been smoother. Could have, also, been worse. He could have poured the champagne on the man.
Do people do this? Approach strangers in art galleries to discuss art? Jisung can’t discuss art. He likes the painting because of the blue.
Oh god. Does this guy work at the gallery? Is he going to try to get Jisung to buy this painting? Jisung doesn’t have the money. He doesn’t know for what this Hwang Hyunjin goes, but if he has his work displayed like this, Jisung knows he doesn’t have the money for it.
He’s eyeing him. Jisung takes a sip of his champagne. Yep, warm. Disgusting. The man has the most beautiful lips Jisung has ever seen, he thinks.
After a few seconds of polite smiles and silence, he remembers he was asked a question before he jumped in fear.
“Right, yeah.” He looks back at the painting. “I love it.”
“Are you familiar with the artist?”
“No, no. Haven’t heard of him before. But I can tell you I’m a huge fan now, after seeing this.” He gestures towards it with his glass and takes another sip, hating himself. That sounded lame. Was that lame?
The man looks at Jisung with another lovely smile, subtle but so pretty and then back at the painting. “What do you like about it?”
Jisung definitely can’t say he likes the blue. Well, he can say he likes the blue, but he can’t say he likes the whole painting because it’s blue. Even if this man doesn’t work at the gallery, he carries with him that aura of someone who knows art.
Jisung can know art. Right? Seungmin is always telling him to take more risks. He drinks his piss warm champagne and clears his throat, pretends to gaze deep into the painting. His palms are so sweaty. If he drops this glass, he will pass out from embarrassment.
“Well, uh. I love the color scheme. And the contrasts. And the story, obviously.”
Why did he say that? He could have stuck with contrasts. Are there any clear contrasts here? Maybe he should have said he likes the brush strokes. Broad, general statements that could apply to any painting in the world.
“Oh?” the stranger says, eyebrows up, curiosity all over his handsome, handsome face. Because Jisung is an idiot and obviously he now wants to know how much of an idiot. “What’s the story?”
Jisung is used to embarrassing himself in front of new people. Hot people. Old people, even, but he likes to believe at some point during the friendship they see his charm as well and can overlook the general awkwardness and foot in mouth syndrome.
“She broke up with her boyfriend, obviously.”
Jisung says it with so much confidence, you’d think he painted it himself. What the fuck? He’s not the biggest art buff but even he knows this is an abstract work of art. It probably doesn’t even have a story. If it does, it’s not as stupid as his explanation, but maybe the artist’s dream or something equally surreal.
“She did?”
But this man is so pretty and he smells so good and his lips look so creamy, whatever he has on them hasn’t been smudged away by this fuckass champagne Jisung is letting burn his throat. If Jisung backs down now, he looks like a fool and even worse, the beautiful man leaves, doesn’t find him interesting anymore, finds someone else who knows how to understand messages in paintings or if there really are any and then Jisung goes home and jerks off about it and maybe cries a little.
But, if he keeps talking, he has his attention for at least a few more minutes, even if he does end up being completely ridiculous and just a silly, stupid anecdote this guy can tell his friends at fancy wine tasting dinners he probably attends every week.
Jisung is used to bullshitting his way through oral exams, he’s done it his whole life. The more confidently you speak, the more people believe you. He clears his throat and points at the painting with his now empty glass and puts on bravado like this man is the blind one for not seeing something so obvious. He looks at the girl.
“See the red stain? That’s his blood. She killed him and is walking away from it, towards the door. And the black lines behind her symbolize her past with him. First this fat one, when he was alive and then since she killed him, they get thinner and follow her until she’s in this… this eclipse, right. Safe, from him. ‘Cause he was a shitty boyfriend. Good riddance. And the lines are everywhere because he just took over her whole life, she felt like she was suffocating. And that—that plane, well, they were supposed to go on a trip together but she knew if she went on this trip with him, she’d go on every trip with him for the rest of her life and she finally realized she wanted more for herself. So she’s gonna be walking away now, by herself, through this new door of future. Good for her, honestly, if you ask me.”
He reaches for his glass, remembering he’s drank it all before he can really try to drink and look even more silly. His mouth is dry. It even makes sense, if he thinks about it. Maybe not in the abstract, high profile artist way, but more in a way of you telling the story to a middle school child and them painting what they heard. Sort of. If you squint. You really have to squint.
“Oh, wow.” The stranger nods.
He’s keeping his hands on the small of his back but he doesn’t look like an old man at all. He’s pulling it off because he’s so cool. Jisung pities whoever it is that will inevitably take this glass from him because it’s so damp and full of his fingertips it’s gross.
“I really love that.” He says eventually and Jisung can’t really read the tone. Is he making fun of him? Is he just being kind? “I never really thought about it that way before.”
Jisung swallows nervously. “You’ve seen it before?”
“Yes. I’m familiar with his work. What did you think of his other pieces tonight? Some people say he’s a bit pretentious.”
Well, Jisung hasn’t really stopped and stared at many paintings, but he feels weirdly overprotective over this man whose painting he definitely banalized for the sake of impressing someone hot he’ll probably never see again in his life. He swallows again.
“Well, I… Uh, I think art is supposed to be pretentious?” does that sound like an insult? “I mean, to a certain degree. I think it’s good to be pretentious about things. I’m really pretentious about music, for example. Or I can be. I can also listen to some cheap trash.” He laughs, a little too squeaky because the guy’s eyes are still on him. “But, you know. Isn’t that the point? Of life?” oh god. He needs to shut up. “One of the points, anyway. That we be pretentious about art and care a lot about things and not be indifferent. Right?”
He can’t tell if he’s said something wrong because the stranger is no longer smiling, but he looks like he’s studying Jisung’s face. It’s really hot under his gaze. Jisung makes a conscious decision not to swallow so obviously for the third time in two minutes, like a freak.
“I agree.” He eventually says. “What’s your name, again? I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.”
He offers his god like hand to Jisung and Jisung hopes his free one isn’t as clammy as the only holding his glass before he shakes it. “Jisung.”
“Pretty name.” and he has no time to freak out over that, because it’s followed by—“I’m Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin.”
Jisung is going to die. He nods, like he’s being told something so interesting and he keeps nodding, how he did when his professors would catch his eye and he’d feel bad that no one was listening so he was signaling at least he was. He lets go of Hwang Hyunjin’s hand.
“Well. I better go. And move out of Seoul now, haha. It was great to meet you. I loooove the blue. See you never.”
He actually goes to leave, but Hyunjin is laughing, catching his elbow and keeping him in place. Jisung works out but his muscles are mostly for showing off and he’d rather turn into a pile of goo under these hands than try to fight them, even as he can feel the heat in his own cheeks.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t go. I really like your story.”
“You don’t.”
“I do! I might start telling it to people. Steal your idea, you know?”
“Is there a story behind it?”
“Honestly, not really. I just painted what came to me in the moment. Wasn’t even gonna display it tonight, but my agent insisted.” Hyunjin looks down at him. “Now I’m really glad I listened.”
Is that flirting? Is Jisung going insane? Should he drink more champagne? Did they put something in it? Is he dreaming? Is he in an abstract painting right now?
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t offend you.”
“Offend me? No, come on. I think it was cute. Very charming. Are you a public speaker?”
Seungmin’s gonna love when Jisung tells him that one.
He laughs. “No, god no. I’m just—“ very gay and weak for pretty painters, apparently. And desperate. “Just have a creative imagination, I guess.”
Hyunjin nods. He licks his bottom lip. Jisung looks away, blinking against the blue.
“Do you have a favorite piece? Not tonight, just—in general, I mean. What do you lean towards?”
Jisung blinks some more. “I, uh. Well, at the risk of sounding very basic, but I really love The Kiss. By Klimt?” why is he clarifying who is it by? It’s one of the most famous paintings, Jisung thinks, and this guy is an artist. “My best friend, he really loves cats, he um. He bought me a cat version of it, like a magnet. Like, cats for him and the painting for me, it reminded him of me, or something.”
Hyunjin doesn’t laugh at Jisung’s neurotic need to never shut the fuck up. He listens and nods and doesn’t even look like he thinks Jisung is an idiot.
“Wow, that sounds cute. I’d love to see it.”
Jisung turns to look at him properly. He doesn’t have any more spit to swallow, really. His mouth is dry again. “You, uh. Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I have to stay for a bit, of course. But. You know. That cats kissing sounds like some serious art business to me. I should probably check it out with my own two eyes.”
What is happening right now? Jisung wants to pinch himself but he’d look even more pathetic than he already is.
“Yeah. Yeah, for sure. Yes. You should definitely check it out. With your eyes.”
Hyunjin laughs and it’s not cruel, but Jisung wouldn’t mind it either way. It’s light and so attractive and a little breathtaking. He thinks about how he will have to shove all the clothes he tried on before going out in his closet as soon as they’re through the door. He also thinks he will kiss Seungmin and maybe his stupid psychology degree too.