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Jimin once had a dream about a boy surrounded by dozens of paintings, some of them familiar, like the one of his mother. He'd spend hours gazing at her eternalized features, wondering what she had thought while wearing her finest gown, if she'd minded the heaviness of the fabrics or if she'd preened under the attention, standing for hours to be eternalized in paint. Never had he imagined spending eternity next to that very painting with only his memories to perpetuate her beauty.
People used to say that the queen passed her beauty onto her only child before passing away in the birth bed and that her beauty would forever live on in the prince and his children to come. Fate had proven those people wrong though.
In his dream, Jimin had watched the boy staring up at the ceiling, unable to follow his gaze as his eyes were firmly set on the other's doe ones, slowly losing himself to those dark orbs, as if trapped, incapable of looking anywhere else for the rest of his life.
It were those same doe eyes that kept him attentively watching his surroundings every single day of his long-lasting life, eyes wide open even after centuries of waiting, life going on, Jimin catching all the little changes in his surroundings, yet to tire of his everlasting hope to meet those doe eyes from a dream long gone in reality one day. Maybe tomorrow, or another day, time didn't really matter when one lived forever. Although, living was a pretty loose concept for Jimin.
Sometimes he would remember the smallest details of his life, reminiscing about them during the many lonely hours of the night, trying to remember the taste of fresh air, how sunshine had felt on his skin, or the smell of cherry blossoms in spring. It were the smallest things that he missed the most, the ones he'd taken for granted, bemoaning his long walks through the palace gardens and the missed chances of appreciating those smallest things to the fullest. As he should have and as he would if ever given another chance.
Once, Jimin had wished to live forever, now, he only wished for one whole life. If only one would have told him to be careful with the words spoken towards starry night skies, one could never know when a shooting star might appear to fulfill their wishful thinking.
Jimin couldn't help the glare he shot towards the Van Gogh, feeling betrayed by the starry night it displayed so dreamily. He had a friend, back when he'd still been a prince living during the renaissance époque and not a renaissance painting in some art museum, who would've called Jimin's situation ironic, being hung up on a wall with a perfect view of the very reason he was experiencing the everlasting misery of being trapped in paint.
He should've known better, being 20 and all, give or take a few centuries now. Never trust the devil. God, he'd only wanted to live long enough to find that boy with doe eyes, being trapped inside a painting hadn't been part of the deal he'd made. He'd never signed up for an eternity of being mocked by some post-impressionistic night sky. It's been almost 130 years since that painting had been hung up across from him, yet, Jimin felt still very bitter of being the object of such ridicule.
Fate had to hate him.
Jimin still remembered how easily he would get bored during his days at the palace, looking for entertainment inside of books, theaters, games of chess with his father if the both of them found the time for it, being the king and heir to the throne and all was pretty time-consuming. During his twenty years as a prince, he'd mostly spent his days studying to become king one day, not once even imagining that he would never wear that crown or any other. He bemoaned that past boredom as his situation now was far worse.
There wasn't much Jimin could be looking forward to these days. The museum had long stopped hanging up new paintings around him — if only they'd stopped before June 1889, Jimin thought, glaring at The Starry Night for the umpteenth time today — and apart from the crowds of visitors milling in the exhibition space he was a part of, there wasn't much for him to do other than judge people's crazy hairstyles, listening to their partially questionable opinions on art, and trying to get a glimpse of doe eyes.
In short, Jimin had been bored for the last 362 days of whatever year they had right now, bored enough to set himself on fire if only to get some kind of new experience, secretly hoping for the sparks to land on The Starry Night and burn it to ashes as well, sadly, paintings couldn't do much more than be pretty, which he was, very easy on the eyes as a visitor had once praised him, ethereal beauty according to another, prettiest eyes, the list was never-ending after spending centuries on this wall. However, his most cherished compliments had all occurred around the same time of year.
They called it The Long Night of Museums and Jimin got giddier the closer that day would come. Nights were the worst, lonely as he was seemingly the only portrait that had once been something other than paint and canvas, but once every year the museum was opened for a solid twenty-four hours, and Jimin longed for that day and night full of visitors appreciating his existence.
He was watching them eagerly, surely glowing even more under their gazes, preening at every praise, crescent eyes, luscious lips, flawless skin, adorable cheeks, doe eyes–
Jimin's eternal smile almost dropped at the sight in front of him. There was the boy of his dream, neck craned as he stared up at the ceiling, Jimin's eyes locked onto the doe eyes he'd longed to see for hundreds of years, slowly losing himself to those pools of brown, finding comfort in their growing proximity, gasping when their faces were only a few inches apart, shocked when the boy gasped at his gasp.
What.
The.
Hell?
The boy was staring at him, blinking, rubbing his eyes, blinking again, rubbing his eyes once more, glancing towards his right, his left, rubbing his eyes a third time, and that was when Jimin snapped.
"He could at least say I'm pretty, after all, I waited quite some time for him to finally show up."
"Holy Shit," the boy gasped, mouth hanging open as he stared at Jimin, unblinking this time. "Did you just talk to me?"
It was Jimin's time to blink, rub his eyes, blink again, rubbing his eyes once more. Was the boy talking with him or that lady shooting him strange looks? Jimin gulped, lifted a hand, and waved. The boy cursed, turned on his heel, and walked in the other direction.
Fuck.
"Wait!" Jimin called after him, feeling the chains of this trap of paint heavier than ever before as he tried to surge forward and reach the other boy, locked in place, watching the doe-eyed boy walk out of sight. Had the other really heard him? Seen him? No one ever had before. It wasn't possible, yet, it had felt different to be taken in by those doe eyes. He was used to being looked at but never before had someone seen him.
Jimin knew there was a pout on his lips and he knew that no one else was seeing it. People were passing him, staring at him, studying the paint strokes he consisted of, yet not a single of them seemed to see anything other than a painted renaissance prince. The doe-eyed boy had been the only one. Jimin's pout only intensified at that revelation.
After about an hour of unrecognized pouting, sighing, and pouting some more, Jimin felt eyes on him, and although there were about ten people looking at him right now, it wasn't their stare he felt as he'd only ever felt one gaze and it was caressing his features for the second time tonight. Jimin followed his senses, soon meeting doe eyes.
He smiled at the other boy, trying to look as non-spooky as a moving picture could be, yet, the other boy turned back around as soon as he waved, and Jimin huffed as he realized what those doe eyes were focusing on now.
"Stupid Starry Night, stupid Van Gogh," he mumbled under his breath, adding some curses he had picked up over the centuries he'd been hanging out here, mumbling to himself and not sensing that someone's eyes were back on him, too caught up in his undying anger over his arch-enemy to realize that the boy was coming closer, stepping within earshot and catching his last words, "stupid me who got hooked on pretty doe eyes and got himself stuck in a stupid painting for stupid forever."
Jimin startled as he heard the soft chuckles that grew louder, realizing belatedly who was standing in front of him, having listened to his angry rant if the mirth sparkling in the other's doe eyes was anything to go by. Jimin also realized they were alone now, so it had to be pretty late already. He got lost in those doe eyes for another minute, blushing when he realized he was staring and being caught doing so, the other chuckling some more.
"Stop laughing, brat," Jimin whined, hiding his face with his hands, feeling his cheeks grow hotter the longer the other boy was staring at him, chuckling. When the pretty attractive laugh subsided, he peeked past his fingers, afraid the boy had left but he was still right in front of him, staring. Jimin sounded pretty shy as he asked, "Can you really hear me?"
"Depends," the other said, tilting his head as he examined Jimin who was feeling even shier under the boy's obvious stare, kind of hot too, wishing he could adjust his pretty tight collar but sadly, moves like that weren't unsupervised anymore. "Can you really talk or am I talking to myself right now?"
"Ugh," Jimin huffed, annoyed by the other's smart-ass answer and how he was barely stifling his own laughter, cheeks growing hotter as he held his breath, still shielding his face with his hands. "I'm talking to you, brat, so don't you dare question my abilities."
"Feisty," the other replied, slumping onto the floor and crossing his legs as he leaned back on his hands, taking Jimin in from head to toe slowly, very slowly. At this point, Jimin was annoyed by the never-ending staring, feeling goosebumps arise wherever the other's gaze would pass over him. He huffed, clearly remembering how blatant staring had been considered rude back at his time.
"Stop staring," he huffed, seeing how the other quirked a brow at that, obviously intrigued by his request.
"Why? You're a painting, isn't that what being a painting is about? Being observed?" Jimin hated to admit that the doe-eyed boy had a point but still, he wasn't just any other painting. He was a prince, well, once had been a prince but still, he wasn't just some random painting.
"First, drop that cocky smirk, it doesn't suit you–"
"Liar," the boy cut him short, glowing with his cocky smile on full display and Jimin huffed some more, obviously agreeing that the other's smile, cocky or not, was pretty attractive.
"Second," Jimin continued, glaring past his fingers, seemingly entertaining the other boy who craned his head backwards as he laughed. God, attractive wasn't enough a word for that one. Anyways, he'd been meaning to scold someone, "I'm not a painting, I'm a prince, and third, weren't you educated to not stare at other people?"
"So I'm talking to a pretty prince, huh?"
"Well, yeah," Jimin replied, thankful for the hands still hiding most of his face because he'd blushed some more at that 'pretty' despite how nonchalant the other had sounded. The cocky smile still curling the other's pretty pink lips appeared damn flirty though.
"Do I have to address you with a title then? Your Majesty? Highness?" Jimin rolled his eyes at the question, meaning to give the other boy a short lesson in proper royal honorifics, when the other spoke again, "What's your name, pretty prince?"
"I," Jimin trailed off, frowning, hands falling off his face as he tried to glance at his side, past the golden frame keeping him in place, unable to sneak a peek of the badge next to him. He huffed some more at his inability to move how he wanted, crossing his arms, asking annoyedly as he nodded to his left, "Can't you read? It's on that badge there."
"I can read, pretty," the other chuckled, seemingly amused by Jimin's annoyance, the eternalized prince rolling his eyes at how endeared he was by the other boy's antics, and how his cheeks turned rosy again at the pet name, a smile tugging at his lips but dropping as soon as the other said, "but there ain't no name written on there, just 'prince age 18, oil on canvas, renaissance', no exact year, artist or place, sorry, pretty."
"What the– 18? I'm twenty! Almost twenty-one," Jimin huffed again, pout falling onto his lips as he furrowed his brows, knowing full well that this didn't make him look any more mature. His adorable baby face be damned.
"I'm 18," the doe-eyed boy suddenly said, sitting up straighter as his eyes fell onto Jimin's face, scanning it seriously before saying, "you're like really beautiful, that's probably why they guessed wrongly."
"Oh," Jimin blurted, flushing some more at the compliment. He wished he could thank his mother for passing her beauty onto him as it seemingly was timeless, exceeding époques and its various standards. "W-what about the painting next to me? Does it have a name?"
"Hm," the boy hummed, standing up to look at the badge, reading it out loud, "Queen Park Nayeon, oil on canvas, artist unknown, around 1385."
Jimin smiled at the information, thankful that his mother's presence in this world hadn't been forgotten. Unlike him but he supposed, people tend to forget about princes that get cursed and trapped into a painting by the devil. He sighed. It had been centuries, yet, he hadn't conceded defeat. Jimin wanted to believe that there had been a reason for his trap of paint.
"Why are you sad now, pretty prince?"
"Jimin," he replied, adding after seeing the other boy's quizzical stare, "my name. Jimin. Park Jimin. Well, Prince Park Jimin but titles don't seem to be a thing anymore."
"Park Jimin," the boy repeated slowly as if tasting each syllable, trying out how they felt on his tongue, smiling at the end. "It suits you. A very pretty name for a very pretty prince."
Jimin couldn't stop his giggle this time, hand flying up to hide his smile as his body shook with laughter, eyes squinted to beautiful crescents, blinding himself, and therefore unaware to how the other's eyes rounded in surprise, drawn closer by the endearing sound.
"You're even prettier when you smile, Jimin," the boy said, standing so close to him now, almost touching the canvas, almost touching him. The boy seemed to catch himself before he could do anything that would cause an alarm to startle the whole building awake. Jimin was relieved, he didn't want to lose his companion just yet.
"What's your name?" Jimin asked, intently staring back into those doe eyes, up so close he could see stars inside of them. He almost huffed, of course, it had to be stars. The mockery seemed to have no end. He'd be reminded of this night for the next centuries to come, whenever looking at this stupid Van Gogh everyone adored so much. Jimin's smile dropped at the thought. He probably wouldn't see the other boy ever again. Just this once.
"Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk," the other — Jeongguk — answered his question, seemingly noticing the sadness clouding his features now. Jimin swallowed the lump in his throat and faked a smile, familiar loneliness caging his heart despite Jeongguk still being here. He'd longed for centuries to finally meet those doe eyes after seeing them in a dream, and now, that he had seen them in reality, he wished to never have met them, so he wouldn't miss those doe eyes for those many more, endless centuries to come. Eternity had never sounded as long and lonely as now. "W-what's with you, prince?"
"Nothing," Jimin shook the sadness away, not wanting to burden this boy with his problems, nodding towards the floor, so the other would take a seat again, hoping to spend a little more time with him. "Tell me about you, Jeonggukie. What do you do?"
"I, um," Jeongguk stumbled backwards, but not far, slumping onto the floor far enough to meet the elder's pretty eyes, yet close enough to still see the freckles on his cute cheeks, "I'm an art student, well, photography and film mostly."
"Photography?" Jimin questioned, tilting his head in confusion. He'd never hurt that word before this day but immediately found himself in an impromptu modern art lesson, learning about one-second still paintings made with some lightning device, no painter needed anymore, Jeongguk showing him with a camera that was integrated into his phone. At least, Jimin had seen and watched people run around with those things plenty of times, never having been introduced to the device before though. He was intrigued, even more so, when the younger introduced him to the world of film. "M-moving pictures? Like me?"
Maybe he wasn't the only one? Maybe someone knew how to end his endless misery?
"No, Jimin, that's not it," Jeongguk quickly disagreed, watching the freshly bloomed smile on the elder's lips disappear into a pout again. "They're not like you, I can't talk to videos like I do with you as they are just like a painting but like many, many pictures shown quickly after another, making it appear as if they are moving but they're not. They're not alive like you."
"Oh," Jimin replied, not fully understanding what those video thingies seemed to be but getting enough to understand that he was the only cursed prince inside a painting. He felt even worse, now that he knew about how he'd soon be all alone in his trap of paint again. The sadness hit him and this time, he wasn't able to fight it, the first tear soon escaping his eyes and rolling down his cheek, dropping onto the golden frame as the sobs started rumbling through his body.
"Hey, please, don't cry, Jiminie," Jeongguk tried to calm him down, voice reaching the cursed prince but he'd always needed more than words when he felt sad. It's been so long since someone had held him, hugged him, and Jimin craved physical affection as much as the smallest social interaction, talking to Jeongguk had only brought his loneliness to the surface. "Please, Jiminie, my pretty prince, d-don't cry–"
Jimin sobbed even harder at those words, sorrow and regret clenching his heart until he thought it would break into a thousand tiny pieces, never to be put together again. "I-I'm s-so lonely, J-Jeongguk-kie," he hiccuped between sobs.
Jeongguk didn't know what to do. He wasn't very skilled at calming others with words, mostly trying to hug them until they stopped crying but he couldn't possibly do that. Jimin was a painting, well, he looked like a painting, a moving one, which was quite rare, well, pretty unique, if he was honest, an unbelievable once-in-a-lifetime kind of occurrence and as much as it sounded unbelievable, the other boy was very much real, beautiful, shy, a bit feisty, quite the talker, huffy, with an adorable pout and a seemingly deep-rooting dislike for Van Gogh's The Starry Night, so whoever might have said that alive paintings weren't possible might have been just as wrong about not being able to hug alive paintings.
So, Jeongguk got on his feet, took a long step towards the golden-framed painting, praying for no alarm going to turn them deaf as he reached out for the sobbing boy, hand touching soft fabric, and pulling the prince into his arms.
Jimin yelped as gravity got a hold of him, falling into a pair of strong arms that held him upright, sobbing and sniffling as he stared right into doe eyes, slowly losing himself to those dark orbs filled with galaxies and stars.
"J-Jeongguk, h-how," he hiccuped, skin prickling under the boy's touch, his own hand hesitantly reaching up to touch the younger's cheek, gasping as he could feel the soft skin underneath his fingertips, fingers drawing out the lines of the boy's face as more and more tears flowed out of his eyes. "A-am I dreaming again? A-are you just another dream?"
"We must be dreaming the same dream then," Jeongguk answered, a cocky smile tugging on his lips that made Jimin release a watery laugh, pressing into the warm body, burying his face in the younger's neck and shoulder, taking a deep breath, the very first in centuries. He cried some more, clinging to Jeongguk who held him tight, hands caressing his back, patting his hair until Jimin had calmed down enough for the tears to stop flowing. "Hey, pretty prince?"
Jimin flushed at the name, pressing his hot cheeks into the younger's neck some more, trying to hide, so no one would see his flustered smile but his voice betrayed him anyway, "Y-yeah?"
"Let's say, I'd have a spare pillow and blanket in my tiny one-bedroom apartment," Jeongguk said, heaving a deep breath as he closed his eyes, unsure of what the other might say, "and I'd offer both to you," he continued, hearing the elder gasp audibly in his arms, exhaling a shuddering breath himself before asking, "w-what would you say?"
"I'd say," Jimin smiled and bit his lip as he hoped to have understood the other boy right, pieces of his heart shifting back into their rightful places as he breathed, "take me home then, Jeonggukie."
"I was hoping you'd say that, my pretty prince," Jeongguk laughed, taking a hold of the elder's hand and intertwining their fingers. Jimin finally dove up from his hiding spot, beautiful even with his eyes puffy from crying and tears still staining his cute cheeks. Jeongguk swallowed at the sight, another thought crossing his mind when looking into the elder's crescent eyes, "And what if I asked you how this fairytale would end?"
Jimin's eyes sparked with interest at the question, searching the other boy's face for what he was hoping to find there, reaching his hand out as soon as he found it in those pretty doe eyes sneaking glances of his lips, smirking as he cupped Jeongguk's cheeks, caressing the curve of his skin as he pulled the doe-eyed boy of his dream closer so their lips were almost brushing, "Don't kiss me and I'll tell you."
"Feisty and a tease," Jeongguk commented, mindful of maintaining that barely-there distance between them, tempted by the soft breaths hitting his lips, feeling that the prince was struggling just as much as him, "I see you, Park Jimin."
"Yeah, you do," Jimin answered, smiling up into the other's sparkling doe eyes, feeling truly seen for the very first time in his long life. He puckered his lips as he murmured, "So? Do you want me to tell you or…?"
"I'll figure it out on my own, my prince," Jeongguk answered, closing the distance and rewarding the pair of plush lips, that had been waiting for him for centuries, with the sweetest kiss. They both sighed and smiled at the gentle brush of lips, it being broken too soon, when Jimin burst into a fit of giggles after Jeongguk had said in a much deeper voice, "And they lived happily ever after."
"You're a dork," Jimin giggled, eyes fond as they looked up into the younger's doe ones, hardly believing the fact that he was very much looking at a dream come true right now. He'd finally gotten out of that golden frame, finally escaped his trap of paint. He'd gotten another chance and he would use it, appreciating all those smallest things he'd missed so much, like watching stars twinkling in the younger's doe eyes.
"Who's staring now?" Jeongguk interrupted his thoughts, pointing fingers at Jimin despite being no better, lost to those crescent eyes and soft giggles. "Aren't you curious to see your one-bedroom castle, my prince?"
"I am," Jimin replied, biting his lip to contain the dazzling smile, yet, failing, smirking as soon as his eyes fell on something else. He held up a finger, "Just a tiny second."
Jeongguk nodded, curiously watching the elder walk past him and cross the floor to reach the other side of the room, where he planted himself in front of the Van Gogh, crossed his arms, and stretched his tongue out towards The Starry Night for a whole minute. Jeongguk fell to the floor laughing, where Jimin picked him up right after, taking his hand, entwining their fingers, and leading them out of that damned museum, not intending to return ever again. He almost ran back inside when setting eyes on the busy city night.
"What is this, Jeongguk?" Jimin questioned, pointing towards the uber Jeongguk had called for them since it was far too late to take the public transport.
"Just a modern way of traveling, you'll get used to it," Jeongguk soothed the elder with a gentle touch on his chin, placing another peck on those pouty lips, before urging the other into the car. He hadn't been that wrong, despite everything probably being quite overwhelming for the renaissance prince, Jimin took the car ride pretty well, silently staring out of the window, awing at all the pretty lights, while simultaneously clutching the younger's hand. It all went quite well until they entered Jeongguk's apartment and Jimin stopped right in the doorway, crossing his arms, and glaring at the ceiling.
"This has to be a joke," Jimin stated, pointing towards the replica of Van Gogh's The Starry Night, that Jeongguk had painted onto his ceiling during a pretty drunken weekend. He laughed at the prince's cute pout and kissed it, acting as if he didn't hear the 'It leaves or I do' the prince huffed out several times as Jeongguk wrapped him in a blanket.
"It stays," Jeongguk answered with an endeared smile, pressing a kiss on top of the elder's soft hair, and pulling the pouting and glaring boy into his arms, locking him right there, where they could stare at the paint together, "and so do you, my pretty prince."
— Fin.