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Normally, Minghao doesn’t usually hire art models for his projects. It’s for a bunch of different reasons: Minghao isn’t really a people person, it costs money, and not a lot of people are willing to do it. Most of the ideas he has for his assignments don’t really require other people, anyway. It works out.
So, when Dr. Song reminds the class that there’s only a month until the final project is due, Minghao already has a decent plan. Creating a painting series around each color of the pride flag is perfect for showcasing everything he’s learned so far, with some bright colors for good measure, and basing the paintings around things in nature, like fire for red or trees for green could be interesting.
But, of course, something has to change his plans.
“Have you considered including more people in your paintings?” Dr. Song asks, smoothing his hands over the crinkled edges of Minghao’s project proposal form.
Minghao shrugs. “Not particularly. Is it a requirement?”
“No, no, of course not,” says Dr. Song, shaking his head. “I was just thinking about your idea of using nature to represent your theme. I think Pride is a wonderful concept that can draw a lot of different interpretations, but I’m not sure if you’re thinking of the right subject matter.”
“What’s wrong with using nature?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it inherently, but Pride was an idea originally conceived by humans, was it not?” says Dr. Song. “The circumstances that created and necessitated Pride and the traits symbolized by the pride flag were created by people, too. I think it would be more of an interesting concept if you used people to embody those traits.
“Just consider hiring an art model for this project, or using one of your friends,” Dr. Song continues, sliding the project proposal sheet back towards Minghao. “Or, if money is tight, you could even try using yourself as a model.”
Minghao nods, slowly. “I’ll...think about it.”
Shutting the door on his way out, Minghao heaves out a long sigh. This project is becoming a lot more complicated than he wanted it to be.
~
The revisions of his project proposal are long and tedious. Minghao has to rework each of his six painting ideas, thinking about how it can fit around a person instead. Drawing little thumbnail sketches of how he wants the model to be positioned is exhausting; humans are much more complicated figures than is worth the trouble.
And, unfortunately for him, revising his proposal also means finding an art model, which is a lot harder than he’d thought.
Minghao starts by asking around his group of friends, but all of them are busy working on their final projects, too. He checks the bulletin boards hung up around campus for anyone advertising for modeling services, but all of them are either too expensive for his measly budget, or Minghao is half-certain he’d get murdered in a ditch if he went to go meet them.
“I’m going to end up having to use myself as a reference,” he complains to his roommate, Mingyu, two days after the start of his search. “I do not have the time to pull a Vincent Van Gogh with a mirror while I’m painting.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Mingyu sighs, scribbling something down in his own project proposal form. “Someone will turn up eventually who can do it. We’ll keep asking around.”
Minghao groans into his hands before flopping onto the couch, reaching for his phone to check if any other friends had responded to his messages yet. Which, they still haven’t.
In the end, his art model ends up being a complete stranger. Lee Seokmin, a friend of a friend of a friend of a...well, it goes on. Even Mingyu, who knows way more people than Minghao does, only knows him vaguely. “I’ve seen him at one of Seungcheol’s things once or twice,” he tells Minghao. “I think he’s roommates with Lee Jaehyun, that guy who’s friends with Yugyeom. You know, Yugyeom who dances with Soonyoung-hyung and, uh, Jun-hyung?”
Well. Minghao does not know, but regardless, it means he has an art model, which is better than nothing.
~
The first time he ever meets Lee Seokmin is during the first of their six painting sessions. I’ll meet you outside the studio building at 9!, is all Seokmin had said, after exchanging brief introductions about the project over text. He doesn’t even know what Seokmin looks like. God, Minghao is so out of his element.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to go through the humiliating task of finding Seokmin, since there’s only one person standing outside the door. From here, Minghao can see that he’s tall, about as tall as he is, with broad shoulders and a face with sharp angles. ( Handsome , his brain helpfully supplies against its better judgment.)
“Xu Minghao?” he asks when Minghao gets close enough. Minghao nods, and Seokmin breaks out into a grin that shows what must be about 50 teeth, eyes turning into crescents. “I’m Seokmin, nice to meet you!”
“Sorry if I kept you waiting long,” says Minghao, glancing at his watch. 9:02 . Shit. What a way to make a first impression.
“Oh, it was no trouble!” says Seokmin, opening the door. “I was just happy to be outside in this nice weather.”
Minghao looks up at the sky, where dark clouds are starting to form over the horizon. And yet, the way Seokmin said it made it seem like it was completely genuine.
The studio is already set up with the red LED lights when they arrive, since Minghao had already gone over the night before. “I’ve never really been in any fancy art studios like this before,” Seokmin remarks, setting his bag down on the floor near the door.
“What major are you, Seokmin?” Minghao asks, putting on an apron.
“Vocal,” says Seokmin, “and I minor in history. I’m still artsy, I guess, but I don’t really come to this side of campus too often.”
“So, I’m guessing you haven’t done a lot of modeling, then?”
Seokmin shrugs. “Not really,” he replies, sounding a little sheepish, eyes wide. “I’m really sorry if that’s what you were looking for, I—”
“No, it’s okay!” Minghao scrambles to say. “I don’t really do much art with modeling outside of class, either. It’s a learning experience for both of us.”
He comes around to where Seokmin’s standing, sketchbook in hand. He points to his thumbnail sketches and practice drawings for the first painting they’re doing, the red painting. “This is basically the painting we’re going to be doing,” he says. “The painting’s not focused on your clothes, so the t-shirt you’re wearing right now is fine.”
Seokmin peers over Minghao’s shoulder, tracing a line from the head to each of the figure’s outstretched arms with his finger, just an inch over the actual page. “So, I have to stand with my arms out for three hours?”
“Oh, no, we’ll do breaks,” Minghao promises. “Is every...fifteen minutes okay? I can make the painting times shorter if you want.”
“Fifteen is great,” says Seokmin, flashing one of his big smiles again. The force of it is overpowering, getting Minghao to smile, too. Is he being...charmed? After fifteen minutes? “I’m ready to start, if you are.”
Minghao gets Seokmin into the correct position he wants him, before stepping around to his canvas to start drawing out his construction lines. It takes about ten minutes before he realizes that he’s working in complete silence.
“You don’t have to stand completely still,” says Minghao, breaking the quiet. Over the canvas, he sees Seokmin’s shoulders jump in shock, and he suppresses a chuckle. “And you can talk, too.”
Seokmin’s head, frozen at one single spot on the floor, perks up. “Really?”
“Maybe don’t move that much,” Minghao says with a laugh, and Seokmin moves his head back.
“I didn’t know,” Seokmin says, laughing too. His laugh is just as warm as the rest of him, Minghao thinks to himself. “It’s probably pretty awkward for you, huh, just watching me stand like a statue in silence? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Minghao shrugs, hiding his blush behind his canvas. “I don’t know. I...I’m kind of awkward, I guess. I don’t really know how to talk to people.”
“You’re talking to me right now,” Seokmin points out. He crosses his arms before seeming to remember that he’s supposed to keep them on his knees and putting them back. “Tell me about yourself, then. What made you decide to make your final project about the pride flag?”
“The fact that I’m gay, probably,” Minghao replies, dryly.
Seokmin laughs, high and airy. “Well, that’s a good reason,” he says. “But what about the flag was interesting? Why not just paint two guys kissing and call it a day?”
Minghao takes a moment to think about it. He hadn’t really thought about that before; the idea had just come to him, originally. “I don’t know. Obviously, two boys kissing is pretty gay. But I guess...just limiting all of the pride and the queer community to just that kind of cheapens the movement? The pride flag a lot of other things, and a lot of other groups of people, too. Besides, just having two cis boys together kind of erases lesbians, and trans people, and asexual people, and—I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“No, it’s really interesting,” says Seokmin, his eyes bright. “I mean, I’ve always known I liked guys and girls, but I never really thought to think beyond that, you know? It’s cool.”
The timer for the end of the session goes off, and Seokmin finally puts his arms down. “I like you, Xu Minghao,” he says like it’s a declaration, stretching his shoulders. “I think we’re going to enjoy working together.”
Minghao grins back. “Me too.”
~
[Painting, oil on canvas]. A man, bathed in neon red light, stares down at himself. His arms, instead of covered by skin, are uncovered to reveal a network of veins and arteries, all pumping red blood. Some of the veins and arteries seem damaged or taped up, but the man is undeniably alive.
~
Before the next painting session with Seokmin, Minghao goes back into the studio to paint the veins on Seokmin’s arms. As he finishes the highlights, he can’t help but admire his work. He’s not used to painting with so much realism, but it makes sense in the context of the project. After all, Dr. Song had suggested using humans to make his interpretation of sexuality more realistic, and making the people look realistic is just an extension of that.
For the orange painting, Minghao had decided to start introducing props. He drags a chair from the corner over into the center of the room, and retrieves an orange scarf from his bag. “I know it’s May,” he explains to Seokmin, handing the scarf to him and motioning for him to sit down. “It makes sense in context.”
“What context?” Seokmin asks, tying the scarf around his neck. He settles into a natural looking pose, at Minghao’s direction. “I know you said this is for all of the colors of the pride flag, but what do they represent?”
“Red signifies life,” replies Minghao. He points over to the painting on the windowsill. “That’s why all of the veins are there.”
“Why are some of them damaged?”
Minghao turns his pencil slightly to the side, using the side of the graphite to shade in the shadows on Seokmin’s neck. “A lot of queer people face a lot of hardship for their sexuality or their gender. But even if others try to make them stop being themselves, their identity is wired into them, and it’s permanently part of their life.”
Seokmin tilts his head, like he’s thinking. Minghao gestures for him to move his head back. “It could also mean that those experiences shape who they are, right? Since the veins are woven directly in their bodies?”
“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, nodding. “I think it’s up for interpretation.”
“What about orange?”
“Orange represents healing,” says Minghao. “It’s, like, a celebration color.”
“What does that have to do with me wearing a scarf?”
Minghao gestures to the LEDs, casting Seokmin in an orange light. “The lighting reminded me of a campfire, I guess, and you only really go to campfires when it’s cold. And the campfire reminded me of healing, since people like to talk about their feelings during campfires.”
“That’s...pretty thought out, actually,” says Seokmin, sounding a little surprised.
“See?” says Minghao, finishing up his pencil sketch. “I have my reasons. I wouldn’t purposely make you look like someone who exclusively drinks pumpkin spice lattes in the fall for no reason.”
Seokmin laughs again, loud and bright and cheery. Minghao captures the laugh lines around his eyes just before they disappear.
~
“How’s your project going?” Mingyu asks one night after Minghao brings home takeout for dinner.
“It’s been going well,” says Minghao. “Everything’s on schedule so far. And the paintings are turning out nice.”
“Can I see any of the paintings yet?”
Minghao shakes his head. “There’s only two right now, and neither of them are completely done yet. Besides, it’ll probably be a better surprise for you to wait until the showcase to see them.” Mingyu pouts, though Minghao has long been able to guard himself against Mingyu’s attempts to charm him, so he looks away to avoid the puppy eyes. “Don’t try that on me,” he snaps, though it’s without any heat.
“What about that art model you’ve been using? How’s that going?” Mingyu asks. “Is he cool?”
Minghao thinks about Seokmin, with his handsome face and his smile and the curious way he asks questions. “Yeah,” he replies. “He’s really...nice.”
“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” Mingyu remarks, a little smile growing on his face. “Elaborate for me.”
“I don’t know,” says Minghao, shrugging a shoulder. “He’s really sweet. He doesn’t really know how to model, but we’ve been having nice conversations during my painting sessions. Very cheerful.”
Mingyu folds his arms across his chest and raises his eyebrows. “You think he’s cute, don’t you?” he says more than asks, voice edging on teasing.
Minghao reaches across the couch to slap his shoulder. “No!” he exclaims, overly aware of how defensive he sounds. “I’ve only known him for, what, less than a week? That would be stupid.”
“Hey, I’m not saying you’re in love with him or anything,” says Mingyu, rubbing his sore shoulder. “But you should say it like it is. Are you going to ask him out?”
There’s no point in arguing or trying to lie to Mingyu, as naive as he can be, sometimes. “Not yet,” Minghao says, sighing. “It’s still too early. I’d rather get to know him as a friend first, you know? I want to ask him to get coffee or something.”
Mingyu nods, still smirking a little. “I wish you luck.”
“How’s your project going, anyway?”
The switch of conversation is less than stellarly executed, but it gets Mingyu to groan and flop his head back against the couch.
~
[Painting, oil on canvas]. A man sits, wrapped in a pumpkin-colored scarf, seemingly warming himself in a campfire out of the viewer’s sight. His eyes are crinkled up just a bit, like someone had told him something really funny. He looks happy, safe, and warm.
~
“Sorry about the light,” says Minghao, gesturing for Seokmin to sit in the chair again. This time, the LED is positioned as high as Minghao could stand on a chair, bright and shining directly into Seokmin’s face. “Luckily, though, your pose is basically just putting your hand up to block the light the entire time.”
“I’m guessing the color yellow on the flag is for sunlight?” says Seokmin, raising his hand up.
Minghao nods. “This one’s a little more straightforward, yes,” he says.
The atmosphere, after six hours of sitting together, is much more comfortable than the ten minutes in stony silence at the very beginning. Seokmin asks Minghao about his art classes, and Minghao asks about his vocal lessons. “I’m telling you, my vocal teacher is terrifying,” Seokmin says with a chuckle. “She assigns so much work. And with jury coming up soon at the end of the semester, she’s putting on the pressure.”
“At least we’re almost done with college,” Minghao replies, shading in Seokmin’s fingers. “It’ll be nice, not being tied to assignments like this all the time.”
The session passes quickly, making conversation and Minghao painting away. “You know, we could hang out sometime outside of these sessions, if you’re not too busy,” Minghao suggests at the end of the session, before he loses the nerve to do it. He busies his hands by washing his brushes in the sink.
“Oh,” says Seokmin, “that would be—”
“Seoku!” someone calls from outside of the studio, before knocking on the door. It makes both of them jump. “I thought we were going to lunch together.”
“Oh, right!” Seokmin’s voice goes from neutral to panicked in a split second. “I’m really sorry, Minghao, but I promised my friend I’d go to lunch with him. See you later!”
As the door shuts behind him, Minghao stands there dumbly for a second, holding his wet, dripping paint brushes. That went well , he thought to himself.
~
[Painting, oil on canvas]. A man sits, squinting, hand half-covering his face to block out the sunlight. The sun casts a dark shadow over part of his face, while the other half is glowing. There’s something out in the horizon that he can’t quite see clearly yet.
~
The hours of painting in the studio are long and tedious for Minghao, especially without Seokmin there to keep him company. After another long session, painstakingly filling in the details of the way the “sunlight” glints off of Seokmin’s beautiful face, he’s tired and needs a nap.
His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Mingyu.
[Received 4:19] hey, are you going to the party tonight?
Oh, right. In the midst of all of his work, he’d forgotten about the party at Seungcheol’s house tonight. Minghao crosses to the sink in the corner to wash the paint off his hands before typing out a response.
[Sent 4:19] of course, you are too, right?
[Received 4:20] just wanted to double check before i got ready, wouldn’t want you to miss it :D
[Sent 4:20] 0-0
There’s a pause as Mingyu opens the message, though it takes him a while to reply, as if he’s thinking about something.
[Received 4:21] seokmin will probably be there… ;)
Minghao rolls his eyes to himself. Of course that was what was on Mingyu’s mind, even after Minghao had said he wanted to take it slow. It’s only fair, then, that he should get to retaliate.
[Sent 4:23] junhui told me he would too, you know
The virtual silence on the other end gives Minghao a petty sense of triumph. He gets up to start getting ready as he waits for Mingyu to respond.
[Received 4:27] fair enough :/
~
Minghao can already hear the party from the driveway, even if the music is muffled. Before they get inside, he stops Mingyu.
“If you see Seokmin, don’t tell me,” he says. “I don’t want to know.”
Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to talk to him?”
Minghao runs a hand through his hair without thinking, internally cringing as he messes up his hair. “I don’t want him to think I’m coming on too strong.”
“And talking to him at parties is too much?” Mingyu asks, laughing. “I don’t think it’s going to make much of a difference.”
“I know.” Minghao makes a frustrated noise he wishes he could have kept to himself. “Just, I don’t want to scare him off. I want to make a good impression.”
“I think you’ll be fine,” says Mingyu consolingly. “Besides, you’ve met him before, right? Let’s go in.”
It turns out that he didn’t even need Mingyu to tell him where Seokmin was, since only twenty minutes after he and Mingyu split up, he finds Seokmin in the kitchen. “It’s good to see you!” Seokmin has to shout over the loud bass practically shaking the floor, but his smile is still the same. “I’m glad you’ve finally gotten out of the studio.”
“Good to see you, too,” says Minghao. “I didn’t really take you for a party kind of person.”
Seokmin shrugs. “I’m not, but Jaehyun is,” he says. “And he’s a big drinker, so I have to make sure he gets back safe, you know?” He takes a sip of whatever’s in his cup. “Besides, I didn’t really think you’d be much of a partier, either.”
“Surprise, I guess?” Minghao gives a wry grin, which Seokmin returns. “I wouldn’t really call myself a partier, either. Seungcheol’s just a friend of mine. Or, he’s dating my ex, at least.”
Seokmin’s eyes go wide with interest. “Ooh, that’s a story.”
They trade conversation for a while, Minghao telling him about his history with Jisoo and Seungcheol and Jeonghan, with Seokmin listening in interest. They start heading to the snack table on the other side of the house when Seokmin suddenly points over to the side, where Mingyu’s standing alone.
“Oh, that’s your roommate, right?” Minghao nods. “Sorry, I’m totally keeping you away from the rest of the party,” says Seokmin. He grabs a cupcake from the table and starts turning away. “I should probably figure out who else is here, anyway. See you later!”
And just like that, Seokmin’s disappeared without giving Minghao a chance to convince him to stay. It’s beyond Minghao to even pretend to Mingyu like he isn’t disappointed. “So—” Mingyu begins when Minghao gets closer, but Minghao butts in.
“Not a word.”
Mingyu wraps an arm around Minghao’s shoulders, handing him a cupcake from the snack table with the other. “I haven’t had the chance to ask yet, how did your meeting with Dr. Xiao go?” Minghao asks after finishing the cupcake.
“You want to ask about this now?” Mingyu asks, raising his eyebrows.
He doesn’t look happy about it, Minghao realizes. “Your proposal didn’t get accepted?”
“No,” says Mingyu dejectedly, picking up his own cupcake. “Dr. Xiao said I needed to find something that would matter more. Apparently what I have isn’t enough.” Mingyu runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not bad, I think, just missing something. I’m not sure what.”
“At least you’re not doing an MFA,” Minghao tries to assure him. “It’s a final project, not a full on thesis.”
“Yeah. Which is why Dr. Xiao can still reject the whole thing if he chooses to.”
“Chin up,” says Minghao, patting his back. “You have options. Besides, I saw Junhui here a couple of minutes ago.”
That gets Mingyu’s attention. “It’s not like he’ll agree to—” Mingyu starts, before shutting his mouth abruptly. “I mean, uh.”
“Agree to what?”
“Nothing,” Mingyu says, just a little too quickly. Minghao waits. “It’s really nothing.”
“Hmmm.” Minghao ponders for a moment, and lands on what Mingyu’s getting at. “You want Junhui to model for you.”
Mingyu glances around, as if he’s making sure Junhui isn’t within earshot. “Yes?”
Minghao finds himself a drink at the table, a pink, fruity looking thing. “Why don’t you ask him, then? I’m sure he’d be happy to help with your final project.”
“He’s busy.” Mingyu looks down, shoulders rising up. “Besides…”
“Besides?”
Mingyu makes an attempt to snatch Minghao’s drink, but Minghao pulls it out of his reach, prompting him with a look to continue. “I don’t want him to think I want him to model for me just because he’s beautiful.”
Minghao takes a sip and winces, trying not to cough. It’s a horrible mixture of citrus and cheap vodka. He hands the glass to Mingyu, who takes it. “Isn’t that exactly why?”
“Kinda?”
Minghao snorts. “You can’t have it both ways, Mingyu.”
“It’s not just that,” Mingyu says. He takes a sip of the drink before cringing and coughing it back into the cup. Minghao laughs, despite Mingyu’s glare.
“It’s not just that,” Mingyu continues once he recovers. “It’s— you’ve seen him dance, right? I’ve never seen someone move like water before. And he’s just... Junhui-hyung.”
Minghao shakes his head and pours another drink. “This is our last year here,” he reminds him. “You won’t have any more chances.”
Mingyu wrinkles his nose, but he knows Minghao’s right. “When I die, please remember to water my plants,” he tells Minghao, still looking over at Junhui.
“Absolutely not,” Minghao replies. “Survive this and water them yourself.”
It’s comical, watching Mingyu walk over to Junhui and wave, looking jittery and nervous. Minghao watches as they chat for a bit before Junhui takes him by the wrist and leads him away. He’s in good hands , Minghao thinks to himself, sipping his drink.
~
Before the next painting session with Seokmin, Minghao peels himself out of bed and goes to the quad, the best (and only) green space on campus, to pick some flowers. The options are pretty limited, but he finds a couple of different colors and makes his way to the studio.
When he arrives, he finds Seokmin there already, holding two coffee cups in his hands. “I didn’t know what kind of coffee you like,” he says apologetically, handing one to him, “but you seem like you would like tea, so I got you peppermint. Sorry.”
Minghao raises his eyebrows. It hadn’t occurred to him that Seokmin had been cataloguing what kind of drinks he would like. It makes something flutter in his chest. “Thank you,” he replies with surprise in his voice, accepting the cup and taking a sip. “And you’re right. I am a tea person.”
It’s then that Seokmin notices the collection of flowers in Minghao’s hand. “Are those for the painting?”
Minghao nods. “I was hoping to try more of a mixed media approach today,” he explains. “You can hold the flowers while I paint you, and later, I’ll glue the flowers to the canvas. It’ll make it pop a little more, I think. More...nature-y, I guess.”
Seokmin pushes open the door to the studio, holding it open for Minghao. “I’m looking forward to it.”
They’re about an hour into the session, chatting about the party and what’s been going on in their classes when Seokmin suddenly asks, “what made you start painting?”
“Nothing in particular,” says Minghao. He starts smoothing his brush down the bridge of Seokmin’s nose on the canvas, capturing the sharp angle of it. “I started drawing and painting when I was little, and I stuck with it.”
“That’s kind of a boring story,” Seokmin replies with a laugh. “What made you decide to study it in college, then? It’s kind of a big commitment.”
Minghao considers. “I don’t know, really,” he confesses after a second. “So many people here have had these big dreams to become artists and pursue a craft, or have some sort of prominent, defining memory that has shaped their art style, but not me. I think I decided to study it in college because I was good at it, and then I developed the passion for it later.”
“So, you didn’t have a passion for it before?”
“No, not exactly,” says Minghao. “I just mean...projects like this aren’t something I would do when I was younger. I used to think that trying to draw as realistically as possible was the pinnacle of art, and that the goal of painting was just to make it look like a photo, you know? But now that I’m actually in art school, I understand that so much of it is about the process, and the subject matter, and that people can convey those messages without hyperrealism.”
The timer goes off, and Seokmin lowers his hands, placing the flowers in his lap. “That’s very different from me,” he says, standing up from the chair to stretch his shoulders. “I came into music school with all of these dreams to be like all of the people I saw in musicals. I mean, they just look so effortless when they’re singing, so I never really thought about the smaller details and only thought about the big picture.”
“Look at us, having all of these deep conversations,” Minghao says, smiling.
At the end of the session, the painting is nearly finished, with Minghao only needing to add a couple of details and glue on the flowers afterward. “It’s a shame,” Seokmin remarks, “that you need to glue on the flowers. They’re very pretty.”
Minghao takes a flower, a purple one, from the bouquet and hands it to Seokmin. “Here, then,” he says, hoping he sounds anything close to nonchalant. “For you.”
Seokmin looks hesitant. “Are you sure you don’t need it for—”
“No, not at all,” says Minghao, shaking his head. “I have plenty already.”
Seokmin grins with the smile that shows all of his teeth, taking the flower and placing it delicately in the water bottle pocket of his backpack. “Thank you!”
“It’s no problem,” says Minghao, shrugging. “It’s only fair since you brought me tea.” The mention of tea reminds him of what he wanted to ask. “Speaking of tea, would you want to—”
“Oh, shit!” Seokmin interrupts, staring at his phone. “I forgot I have a meeting with my professor. Tea sounds lovely. We can talk about it next time. Bye!”
Minghao has so much to vent about to Mingyu later.
~
[Painting, mixed media on canvas]. A man in a sage green tunic, staring at a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The flowers are real, glued to the canvas in an array of bright colors. He is at one with nature.
~
He’s relieved to have something else to think about besides Seokmin and his paintings when Mingyu finally comes home from the darkroom with ingredients for dumplings. Over folding the dumplings, it’s easy to listen to Mingyu ramble about how his photos have been turning out (even if he’s been avoiding Minghao’s attempts to tease him about his monster crush on Junhui).
“How’s it going with Seokmin?” Mingyu asks finally once there’s a brief lull in the conversation.
They’re washing the dishes while they wait for the dumplings to finish cooking, just so their hands have something to do. Still, Minghao’s sure the distraction isn’t doing anything to hide the way his ears flush pink. “I’ve been trying to ask Seokmin out all week.”
At that, Mingyu lights up into a grin, though it softens when he sees Minghao’s furrowed brow. “I thought you were trying to take it slow with him. How did it go?”
Minghao scowls. “It didn’t go. We keep getting interrupted.”
“What happened?”
“His roommate came to pick him up for lunch,” says Minghao, frowning. “And then he had to run for a meeting with his professor. Do you think he’s using these excuses because he doesn’t want to hang out with me?”
“Don’t stress about it too much,” Mingyu advises calmly. “You still have, what, two paintings left? You can try again the next time you go to the studio.”
He’s right, in the infuriatingly logical way Mingyu can get. It doesn’t stop Minghao from feeling any less frustrated, though.
But it’s great having a friend like Mingyu, who, when it comes to Minghao’s feelings, knows when to prod and when to step back and distract him instead. “You want to see some of the photos from my shoot with Jun-hyung?” He asks instead of asking more about it, stepping back from the sink and drying off his hands.
~
“I’m really sorry that I have to keep running after our painting sessions,” Seokmin blurts out right as he walks in. Minghao freezes where he’s busy turning on one of the LED lights on the floor. He’s chosen a dark, near indigo blue for this painting. “I know you keep asking about hanging out outside of the sessions, and I keep getting interrupted, and it’s purely coincidental, I swear. I’m sorry.”
It’s horrifyingly endearing. “So you do want to get coffee?” Minghao asks, standing up from where he’s crouching. A smile starts to creep onto his face. “Also, why was this so urgent?”
Seokmin runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about it, and all of a sudden, I just felt really bad for it, and I wanted to apologize.” Seokmin sits down on the chair in the center. “And yes, I would like to get coffee. Or tea. Or whatever beverage you would prefer. Except for those smoothies that only have vegetables in them. I don’t like those.”
Minghao giggles, way too high-pitched to be considered anything but embarrassing. “Okay, Seokmin,” he says. “Text me what times you’re available later.”
“I will,” says Seokmin. “Okay. Sorry for all of that. We can get started now.”
It takes the sheer force of Minghao’s self-control not to cheer like a maniac and to actually focus on the painting.
~
[Painting, oil on canvas]. A man sits, eyes closed, facing away from the viewer. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other is shining in dark blue light. You can’t tell what expression is on his face —is it calm? Tired? Sad? Hurt?
~
When Minghao finally gets home from the studio, takeout in hand, he finds Mingyu bent over his laptop with a tired look on his face, a small collection of pictures on the coffee table. Leaning over the back of the couch, he can see that they’re all photos of Junhui. “Come on,” he says, holding up the bag, “it’s dinner time.”
“Thanks for grabbing food,” says Mingyu, standing up to stretch his back.
“It was my turn anyway,” Minghao replies. He gestures to the photos to ask if he can look at them, and Mingyu nods. Up close, Junhui is bright in the frame, overexposed and glowing. It’s a classic Mingyu photograph.
“Nice,” Minghao remarks, setting the photo down and gazing at the rest of the photos. “These are turning out really well.”
“Thanks!” Mingyu beams and starts heading to the kitchen, Minghao following. “I’m excited to see your project too.”
“Don’t remind me,” Minghao says with a long sigh. Even if his painting sessions with Seokmin have been the highlights of his week, it’s been a long, exhausting process. “You’ll see it in a little more than a month now, anyway.”
They’re just settling down to eat when Minghao’s phone buzzes. When he pulls it out, he sees it’s from Seokmin. His heart leaps into his throat.
[Received 7:43] How’s 9:30 for coffee tomorrow? Before our next session?
[Sent 7:43] Sounds good. See you there!
When he looks up again, Mingyu has a knowing look on his face. It makes Minghao’s ears start to burn. “It’s Seokmin,” Minghao explains before he can ask anything embarrassing. “We’re meeting up tomorrow to get coffee.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” says Mingyu. In spite of his teasing, his smile is genuine. “I hope it goes well.”
“I think it will,” says Minghao, shoving his phone back in his pocket and picking up his chopsticks again. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
It’s a bold thing to say, and the look on Mingyu’s face seems to agree with that fact. Minghao’s history in other relationships has not been the most...successful. Even with Seokmin, it took him two tries to even invite him to coffee.
And yet, thinking about Seokmin’s sunny smile, Minghao can’t help but have hope that maybe this could be something different.
~
The next morning, Minghao’s just a little bit below being a nervous wreck. Mingyu watches with raised eyebrows as he flies around the apartment, trying to figure out what to wear.
“It really doesn’t matter what you wear,” Mingyu says, still lying in bed as Minghao rifles through his closet. “What’s wrong with the shirt you’re wearing now?”
“It doesn’t match,” Minghao replies, wrinkling his nose. “I need something that makes me look like I haven’t been trying to find something to wear for the past twenty minutes.”
“Hey,” says Mingyu. “Stop. You look fine. There’s no reason to be nervous. You’re just going to go out, get a cup of tea, and then go do your secret little painting session.”
“I hate interacting with attractive people,” Minghao sighs, closing the closet door. “It makes things so complicated.”
Mingyu nods in agreement, then stops. “Wait. Does that mean you think I’m ugly?”
Minghao giggles, getting his bag and heading towards the door. “No comment. Good luck with your shoot with Junhui today!” He hears a little grumble from Mingyu, and then a muffled thanks as he shuts the door.
It’s good that he didn’t spend as much time stressing about his clothes, since, for once, he’s the first one to arrive. Seokmin arrives a few minutes later, looking sleepy. “Sorry, my alarm went off late,” he explains. They enter the shop together, with Seokmin holding the door open for him.
“It’s weird seeing you outside in normal clothes,” Seokmin remarks as they wait in line to order.
“Didn’t you see me at the party before?”
“Yeah, but those are party clothes,” says Seokmin. “Normally, I see you with paint all over you. It’s different.”
Minghao laughs. “Different in a good way or a bad way?”
“Oh!” Seokmin looks embarrassed, shoulders rising towards his ears. “I didn’t think of it like that. In a good way, I guess. Though you look fine either way. It’s kind of funny seeing you covered in paint.”
They reach the front of the line, and Minghao orders his tea while Seokmin orders his coffee. Minghao raises an eyebrow when he sees how much sugar and cream Seokmin crams into the cup. “Does it even taste like coffee?” he asks when Seokmin takes a sip.
“Nope!” Seokmin says with a smile. “That’s kind of the point. I hate the taste, but I need caffeine, so. I take what I can get and try to make the best of it.”
“You should try caffeinated tea, then,” says Minghao. “It’s caffeine, but it tastes good.”
Seokmin eyes his tea, taking a curious sniff. “Next time,” he promises.
The shop starts to get more and more crowded, so they leave and start heading to the studio. “What kind of painting are we doing today?” Seokmin asks.
“Well, purple stands for spirit, remember? But, it’s also thought of as a regal color. I bought a plastic crown and cape for you.”
Seokmin looks interested. “So, it’s like I’m royal or something?” Minghao nods. “I’ve always wanted to play some sort of king or prince in a show,” Seokmin continues, almost wistfully. “Maybe this is me manifesting.”
They reach the studio, and Minghao reaches into his bag to pull out the crown and cape, handing it to Seokmin. “Put it on,” says Minghao. “Let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”
Seokmin carefully clasps the cape around his neck. It’s long enough that it almost reaches his ankles. Next, he puts the crown on his head. “How do I look?”
Minghao looks. Seokmin was already handsome, but the cape accentuates how tall he is. Even though the crown is cheap, the silver of it shines in the bright lights of the studio. “Like a prince,” he decides to say.
“Really?” Seokmin asks, looking surprised.
“Of course.” Suddenly bashful from the way Seokmin’s looking at him, Minghao turns away. “I should set up the lights now.”
It feels like a routine now, setting Seokmin up on the chair, retrieving his brushes and canvas, getting his paints. Seokmin sets the timer and settles into his pose.
It’s bittersweet when the final timer goes off. Seokmin stands up, and Minghao sets down his brushes. “You’re finally free from me,” Minghao says with a smile. “I’ll make sure to send you the money by the end of the week.”
“Oh, you don’t need to pay me,” says Seokmin, shaking his head. “You’re my friend. And this was fun.”
“Of course I’m going to pay you,” Minghao insists. “Even if it’s for a friend, you still deserve thanks for letting me paint you for, like, eighteen hours.”
Seokmin looks momentarily miffed, though it quickly fades away. “Fine,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “But I’m gonna pay for your tea the next time we go out.”
“Fine, then,” Minghao says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I guess...I’ll see you around?”
“Actually,” says Seokmin, “I have some free time before my next class. Do you want to come over?”
~
[Painting, oil on canvas]. A man, swathed in a long, purple cape with a crown on his head. His face is pointed upwards, eyes dancing with purple light, as if staring up at the heavens. He does not know what awaits him next. It is the dawn of a new era.
~
Seokmin’s apartment is empty when they walk in. Jaehyun’s probably working on his final showcase project, too.
“Do you want something to drink?” Seokmin asks, leading him into the kitchen. “We have water. And coffee. And tea, too, though our collection probably isn’t up to your standards.”
“Water would be great, thanks.”
It occurs to Minghao as he gazes around the apartment that it’s just as he’d thought it might look: messy, but in a way that screams charming rather than hoarder’s den . The small dining table just off of the kitchen is covered in papers and books and clothes, save for just two clearings on either side, presumably where Seokmin and Jaehyun eat. Posters from Seokmin’s theatre performances adorn the walls, most of them crooked and arranged in a jarring assortment of colors.
“I know, our apartment’s a mess,” Seokmin says with a sheepish smile. He sets the glass of water down on the counter in front of Minghao. “I keep meaning to clean up, but with jury coming up and all of these studio sessions, I haven’t really had time.”
“No, it’s cute,” says Minghao. He takes a sip of water. “ I’m sorry if all of these painting sessions have been making your workload worse, though.”
“No, no, it hasn’t at all!” Seokmin assures him, eyes wide. “It’s been really fun hanging out with you while you paint. I’m really glad I met you.”
That gets Minghao to smile. “Me too.”
“Do you have pictures of the paintings on your phone?” Seokmin asks. “I know you keep working on them even after the sessions are over, and I haven’t seen a bunch of them in a while.”
“Sure,” says Minghao, pulling his phone out and leaning over so that Seokmin can see.
“These are so beautiful,” Seokmin whispers. He takes the phone from Minghao’s loose grasp, swiping through the painting with the veins and the one with the campfire, the one in the sunlight and one with the flowers, the one in the rain and the one with Seokmin dressed like a king. “I look so...regal.”
“You helped out a lot,” Minghao says. “You’re definitely the best art model I’ve worked with.”
Seokmin’s eyes are shining . Minghao’s heart flutters. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
The kiss is awkward at first, more noses bumping together than anything else, but Seokmin’s mouth is soft and his hand is warm on Minghao’s jaw. Minghao closes his eyes and kisses him back, arms winding around him, trying to get closer, closer.
“I really like you,” Minghao admits against Seokmin’s mouth.
“I really like you, too.”
~
Epilogue. One month later.
Up on the wall, the six portraits of Seokmin are arranged in one long row. Standing in the middle, just between the yellow and green paintings, Minghao can’t help but feel proud of the way the colors stand out so vibrantly.
He hears, rather than sees Seokmin entering the gallery and sliding into the space next to him. “What do you think?” he asks Seokmin, tilting his head a little.
“They look amazing,” says Seokmin, sounding half in awe.
It’s how I see you , Minghao wants to say, though in the midst of hundreds of people in the gallery, it probably isn’t appropriate.
It’s been a good month since Minghao handed in the project and started dating Seokmin. It means sleeping over at Seokmin’s apartment and making breakfast, standing side-by-side at the kitchen counter. It means kissing Seokmin, going on art gallery dates with him.
It means painting Seokmin, unrestricted by project deadlines, admiring the sharp lines of his face, juxtaposed by the warmth of his smile.
The people milling around the showcase gallery seem to agree with Seokmin, at least the ones that matter. The little pile of business cards in his pocket is larger than he ever could have hoped for, and Minghao is starting to get a little tired.
“Your paintings are beautiful,” a man tells Minghao later on that night. He looks like an art collector, sharp in his black suit. “Are you interested in selling any of them?”
Minghao considers. He wouldn’t mind having the money, of course. Being an art student means never really having the luxury of a stable income.
But the more he thinks about it, he can only see where each of the paintings would fit on Seokmin’s walls. The yellow one would fit on the left side of the big window in the living room. The blue one...in the bathroom, maybe, matching the tile. In his own mind, it would only make sense for the paintings to stay with him and Seokmin.
“No, I’m afraid, sir,” he says to the man after a moment of deliberation. “These paintings are very personal to me, that's all.”
The man is polite, even while being rejected. “Of course,” he replies. He hands Minghao a business card, with crisp edges and a sharp, serif font. “In case you change your mind,” he explains.
When he looks up again from tucking the card into his pocket, he sees Mingyu and Junhui, gesturing for him and Seokmin to come over. “We’re rescuing you,” Junhui explains. He and Mingyu both look tired, most likely from answering questions and fielding business cards all night. “You’ve been talking to people all night.”
Minghao grins, and reaches out for Seokmin’s hand. “Let’s get out of here, then.”