Work Text:
A soft hum of conversation filled the indie gallery in Jongno, in the heart of Seoul, mingling with the warm, golden glow of overhead lights. Jeongguk adjusted the strap of his canvas messenger bag as he stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the room. The space was modest but elegant, with polished concrete floors and high ceilings that gave the small gallery a sense of openness.
“This is nice,” Jeongguk murmured, glancing over at Jimin.
Jimin smiled, his dimple peeking out. “I thought you’d like it. The curator’s been making waves in the art world lately. The works he chooses have this… unconventional edge to it.” He looked around as well, taking in the atmosphere. “...at least that’s what the Naver article said that recommended this place.”
Jeongguk chuckled, his gaze flicking toward the centerpiece of the gallery: a series of paintings arranged in a semi-circle, the soft hues of each canvas blending together like the seasons they depicted. The placard beside it read: Polyamory: A Modern Phenomenon?
Jeongguk’s brows rose slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Jimin leaned closer, his voice teasing. “I thought it might give you ideas for your thesis. Plus…” His hand brushed Jeongguk’s arm, his voice softening. “I thought we’d like it.”
Jeongguk turned his attention back to the paintings, his heart warming at Jimin’s thoughtfulness. They had been together for a few years now, their love story a tad unconventional. Both alphas, they met during the basic training for their mandatory military service. Even after being assigned to different units, they had stayed in touch, coordinated their vacation days, and texted any time they could get their hands on their phones. While they were actively serving, nothing serious happened; they kissed once, at an evening spent in a noraebang singing cheesy love songs. But, being aware of the harsh punishments their relationship could induce during their active service, they agreed to hold off until they were both back to civilian life.
It certainly wasn’t easy, but after they were both back in Seoul, their love thrived. Through sheer luck (or fate?), their universities were not far from each other, and they could see each other often. Together, they explored their sexualities, and what it meant to be in love with someone of the same subgender. In the last few months, they had started to talk about polyamory and were slowly integrating it in their life, which made this exhibition all the more fitting. Jeongguk was not surprised that Jimin had found it; he seemed to have a nose, or even a sixth sense, for these kinds of things.
The painting cycle in the center of the exhibition was even more stunning up close. Each canvas captured a scene from the lives of a Joseon-era throuple: two omegas and an alpha, their relationship told through the passage of seasons.
Spring was light and hopeful—a quiet garden where the three sat close together, plum blossoms drifting through the air. Summer was vibrant and joyful, the trio laughing in the shade of the same tree, a picnic spread and open books around them. Autumn turned introspective, the colors warm but subdued, as they worked side by side preparing kimchi. Jeongguk was surprised to see the alpha in that scene, as well; even today it wasn’t very common for alphas to join during the yearly kimchi making season. Winter was intimate and tender: the three of them nestled together on a nest of futons, the glow of a lantern sitting on a small table casting long shadows on the wooden walls of their hanok.
“Wow,” Jeongguk breathed, stepping closer to the paintings. “The way the light shifts between the seasons—it’s incredible. And look at how the artist captures their expressions…”
“Like they’re part of one whole,” Jimin murmured, his voice reverent.
Jeongguk nodded, his gaze lingering on the winter scene. The alpha’s hand rested on one omega’s shoulder, while the other omega leaned into the alpha’s side, apparently reading aloud from a book he was holding. The intimacy in the brushstrokes felt so real, so alive.
“This has to be my favorite piece,” Jeongguk said.
“Mine, too.”
The soft, unfamiliar voice startled them both. They turned to find a striking omega standing nearby, dressed in a sharp black suit and a loose, brightly-colored silk that made him look both professional and effortlessly chic. His dark hair fell around his face in loose waves while his warm brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. His full lips curved into a smile that bordered on shy.
“I noticed you were spending a lot of time here,” the man continued, his voice lilting with excitement. “I’m Kim Taehyung, the curator of this gallery.”
“Curator Kim!” Jimin said, bowing slightly in greeting. “This exhibit is stunning. Truly. Thank you for sharing it with us.”
Taehyung’s smile widened, his cheeks dusting faintly pink. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it. The painting cycle is the highlight of this exhibit. It’s not just art—it’s a glimpse into something rare and beautiful from Joseon-era Korea.”
Jeongguk tilted his head. “Do you know much about the artist? Their style is so distinctive. The way they blend light and shadow—it’s almost like a storybook come to life.”
Taehyung’s eyes lit up, and he clasped his hands together. “Not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. The artist is unknown—there are only fragments of information. The paintings were discovered in an abandoned hanok decades ago, hidden in the attic. It’s believed they were painted by one of the omegas in the throuple. There are small initials in the corner of each canvas—’TH.’”
Jimin’s lips parted slightly, intrigued. “So this was their story? Their life?”
Taehyung nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That’s what’s so fascinating. These paintings weren’t commissioned or meant for public viewing—they were private, personal. A record of their love. The seasons symbolize different phases of their relationship: growth, joy, reflection, and intimacy. It’s so rare to find something like this from that period. And the fact that it depicts a polyamorous relationship, especially between omegas and an alpha—” He trailed off, his expression earnest.
“It’s groundbreaking,” Jeongguk finished, his voice tinged with awe.
“Exactly!” Taehyung grinned, his eyes sparkling. “It’s a window into a kind of love that existed even then, but we don’t often hear about. I just…” He paused, his cheeks pinking again. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.”
“Don’t apologize,” Jimin said warmly, his dimple flashing. “It’s clear how much you care about this. It makes the exhibit even better, in my opinion.”
Taehyung looked at him, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he simply smiled..
Jeongguk leaned closer to Jimin, murmuring, “Is it just me, or is he the cutest curator you’ve ever seen?”
Jimin laughed under his breath. “Definitely not just you.”
By the time they’d finished touring the exhibit, they found themselves lingering near the entrance, reluctant to leave. Taehyung was there, busy rearranging some brochures, when Jimin approached him.
“Taehyung-ssi,” Jimin said, ever the bold one. His tone was light but warm. “Would you like to join us for coffee? Jeongguk and I were planning to grab some before heading home.”
Taehyung blinked, clearly startled by the invitation. “Oh. I wouldn’t want to intrude…”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Jeongguk interjected, encouraged that Taehyung didn’t turn down the proposition immediately. “We’d love to hear more about the exhibit. And you.”
Taehyung hesitated for a moment longer, his gaze flickering between them. Then he smiled—boxy and genuine. “I’d like that.”
The three of them walked down the bustling streets of Seoul together, the city alive with lights and laughter. Over coffee and tea in a nearby Coffee Bean store, the conversation flowed easily—from art to history to small glimpses of their lives. Taehyung’s shyness melted away as Jimin teased Jeongguk about his art school antics, and Jeongguk complimented Taehyung’s keen eye for curation.
By the time they parted ways, exchanging phone numbers and tentative plans to meet again, there was an unspoken understanding between them.
As Jimin and Jeongguk were on their subway home, Jeongguk couldn’t stop smiling. “So… do you think he likes us?”
Jimin laughed, threading his arm through Jeongguk’s. “If he doesn’t yet, he will soon.”
Taehyung, walking alone back to his gallery, clutched his phone to his chest, his heart lighter than it had been in years.
And so, beneath the modern skyline of Seoul, the seeds of something new began to grow—a love story as timeless as the seasons.