Work Text:
Isn't it always terrifying, the way artists lose themselves? The blonde's face was nearly buried in the sketchbook, Park Gunwook could barely make out his features. Without his glasses, from afar, he thought Ricky was holding an e-cigarette in his mouth since there was a cloying scent of synthetic fragrance in the air. Only upon getting closer did he realize it was a lollipop, one of the extra-large ones, its sweet aroma drifting far on the light breeze.
'Are you here to dance again?' Ricky briefly looked up to confirm the newcomer, then immediately returned his focus to his art.
'Yeah, didn’t get enough, came for extra practice.' Gunwook had just come out of the dance studio, still radiating heat. He pulled a mini Bluetooth speaker from his pocket, turned it to half volume, and quickly got lost in the rhythm, catching the remnants of his body's movements.
Ricky sat peacefully about five steps away, unaffected as if the dense beats could not disturb his stainless-steel eardrums. Their mutual understanding was one of their unspoken agreements. They seemed like two people from different worlds, an odd yet subtly harmonious scene to any onlooker.
Who discovered this spot first remains a debated topic without consensus between them. They didn’t talk much, but this particular debate had its length in their sparse interactions. Ricky actually didn’t see the meaning, but the topic was useful for sparking conversation when needed, so he left it unaddressed.
The secluded corner near Ricky's home was sought for sketching, a place that indulged him from dawn till dusk. Here, his soul enjoyed boundless freedom, leaning on the quiet flow of time, almost hovering three centimeters off the ground.
Then one day, after heavy rain that stopped just before sunset, Ricky, after pondering at the window, decided to head out, umbrella in hand, even though it was an unfamiliar time for him. Carefully stepping over puddles, he noticed a new, unusual presence reflected in a small puddle. He pulled down his cap brim, trying to look more imposing, yet his mind was blank, unprepared even for simple greetings.
As previously remarked, Ricky’s excessive quietness, coupled with his all-black attire, made for a startling appearance. This caused Gunwook to step back in shock the first time they met. But thankfully, they were both easy to talk to. After their initial encounter, it seemed like gravity pulled them into more frequent meetings. An unspoken agreement quickly formed, and Gunwook grew accustomed to having Ricky as a spectator with immovable silence, eventually finding it quite pleasant to have him around.
Most of their shared time was spent in still coexistence, not aimed at socializing. There were exceptions of course, like when Ricky shared some toffees he got from his sister with Gunwook during a dance break. They talked about the weather, an unremarkable exchange, but for that moment, the air they shared tasted of toffee.
Gunwook found it amusing how he learned not to judge by appearances from Ricky. Outside their little square, they passed each other several times. Ricky was not one to initiate conversation, but he was not rude as well, often acknowledging Gunwook with a nod. The one time he called out to Gunwook at a basketball court, he wasn’t wearing his usual shirt but a loose hoodie, which perhaps made him more approachable. Gunwook, upset about being stood up, turned around to see Ricky running towards him, declaring, 'I’m really good at basketball.' As he rolled up his sleeves, his fluffy blond hair made him seem more lively than usual.
Until Ricky touched the ball, Gunwook was skeptical. There was no hint from the quiet, gentle Ricky—it was all a facade. The image that remained in Gunwook's mind was Ricky scoring a perfect basket, a slight smirk of triumph in his eyes.
'Alright, I lose, let’s get a drink,' Gunwook conceded after their mini-game, inviting Ricky to a drink shop. He ordered black coffee and was about to ask Ricky about his coffee preference when he noticed Ricky had already ordered a fruit milkshake, popular among high schoolers—a stark contrast to his first impression, making Gunwook laugh out loud.
There are things Gunwook didn't know. Every time he immersed himself in his dance, Ricky diverted more than half of his attention to him. When Gunwook's energy burst forth at certain moments, Ricky's sketchbook would gain a few clean lines. He had incorporated this process into his sketching as well.
Once, when Gunwook was deeply engaged, the necklace around his neck, already unstable, finally gave way. The moment the chain broke and the metal pieces scattered, emitting the light to Ricky's pupils, he captured that moment too—the tiny, vibrant energy from Gunwook, all preserved in his sketchbook alongside his mere outline.
As the coolness of the evening began to set in, Ricky stretched and started to pack up, preparing to leave. Seeing that Gunwook was still not ready to finish, Ricky caught him at a moment of switching songs to strike up a conversation, "How about being my model next time?" He handed over a folded piece of drawing paper. Gunwook unfolded it to see a fresh, warm sketch of his dance. "Absolutely. I mean, your work is so gorgeous." The praised artist nodded in satisfaction and said goodbye.
"Then, see you next time."
"See you next time."
This was another thing they shared, not defined by tomorrow, next week, or next month, but by a 'next time' left to chance and the weather.