[exo] aerosol hearts; minseok/jongin (2/3)
Minseok’s phone buzzes insistently over on his desk. Minseok groans and contemplates ignoring it in favor of rolling back over, but the vibrations are echoing so loudly against the fake wood surface that Minseok gives up and hauls himself upright. Somehow he manages to stumble the few feet across his room from his bed to his desk with his eyes still mostly closed, and answers his phone without looking at the ID.
“Hello?” Minseok half asks, half yawns.
“I’m so sorry,” the voice on the other end says. Minseok pauses for a second before he manages to place who it is.
“Jongin?” Minseok asks. He pulls the phone away from his ear and squints at the tiny clock in the upper left corner. 6:07 a.m.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Jongin repeats as if Minseok hadn’t said anything. He sounds anxious, almost out of breath. “Sehun made sure no one told me anything before they did it, I only just found out when I got to dance practice and Sehun was talking about it and-”
“What?” Minseok cuts in blearily. He feels like someone has replaced his brain with cotton candy. “Who did what?”
“It’s your new piece, the commission you’re working on for that coffee shop,” Jongin says slowly, like he’s forcing himself to annunciate instead of rushing. “Sehun and the crew-”
Someone might as well have dumped ice water over Minseok’s head. He’s suddenly completely awake, and his stomach feels like lead. “Fuck,” he says with feeling and drops his phone back onto the desk without even hanging up. He manages to pull on clothes and get out the door in record time. At the bus stop he bounces in place, unable to stay still, and even on the bus he stands by the door instead of sitting despite the rows of vacant seats.
Hapjeong, like the bus Minseok caught to get there, is almost empty at 6:30 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Only a few people are wandering around as Minseok jogs straight from the bus stop to the cafe. Once he reaches the cafe, though, he finds the side street that the wall he’s working on runs along already occupied. There’s an elderly man, presumably the owner of the restaurant across the way, stomping around and yelling into his cell phone. He’s saying something about damn kids and no respect and it’s not hard to see why. The wall of his restaurant, the one facing Minseok’s piece, now has its own painting of a girl puking out mess of sea creature skeletons. It’s not hard to see that it’s meant to be a response to Minseok’s work.
The new piece is large enough that multiple people probably worked to get it thrown up quickly, but even so there’s a pretty distinct cartoon style to it. It vaguely reminds Minseok of some unsigned works that have appeared over by the Hongdae children’s park in the past month or so. It all starts to click and Minseok resists the urge to laugh. Of course, it makes sense that Young Blood hasn’t been marking their work - if they did all their art would be swarmed by the other artists they’ve pissed off. Cowards.
The elderly man finally catches sight of Minseok, standing at the end of the street in his painting jeans - apparently the first ones he had managed to grab - and an oversized hoodie, and glares. “You!” the man shouts, gesturing at Minseok with his phone. “Did you do this?”
“No, sir,” Minseok says tiredly. He could point out that the culprits of something like this would never be stupid enough to be found at the scene, but he honestly doesn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, he gestures at his own piece. “There’s no reason for me to put a giant tag over my own art, is there?” Because, sure enough, right in the bottom corner of Minseok’s piece there’s a brand new tag in the design Minseok has become so familiar with.
The man huffs and goes back to his phone. He keeps yelling about how this isn’t Hongdae and the police are going to get involved but Minseok isn’t really paying attention. He can’t pull his eyes away from the tag. Luckily it will be easy enough to cover up, but that doesn’t help calm the silent rage building momentum inside of him. Going over finished pieces is one thing. They’ve been around, they’ve served their time, it makes sense that they’ll be replaced. But this is something else entirely. This is a new piece, not even finished yet, not even close to Young Blood’s territory.
Minseok has been tolerant, has left the conflict with Young Blood at nothing more than hollow warnings. He let them continue, despite quite possibly knowing more about them than any of the other artists who are angry at them. But he has his limits, and this? This has overshot them by a mile, without any chance of turning back.
Minseok doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he almost drops his phone while taking it out from his pocket. He has about a thirty messages from Jongin and two missed calls, but he ignores them and scrolls through his address book. It’s not even 6:30 in the morning yet, but he finds Junmyeon’s entry and presses call.
--
“No.”
Junmyeon’s office is small but still fancy. Minseok is pretty sure that any one piece of the decor is worth more than Minseok’s entire apartment. But that, Minseok supposes, comes along with being the son of the section head of an important international shipping company. It contrasts sharply with Minseok’s memories of freshman year, and all the times he, Junmyeon, and the rest of their friends spent in grimy alleys and hazy samgyeopsal restaurants.
“I know that you quit,” Minseok says. “But seriously need your help.”
It’s 10 a.m. now, a slightly more reasonable meeting time according to Junmyeon. Minseok doesn’t mind too much. Coming to the office later had saved him the 40 minute subway ride to Junmyeon’s apartment in Jamwon with the morning commute crush.
“I want to help you,” Junmyeon says slowly. He’s wearing a three-piece suit, and Minseok feels grungy in comparison, still in his paint-stained jeans. “But I can’t do that kind of stuff anymore. I can’t risk it.”
Minseok narrows his eyes slightly. “This from the guy who used to live for risks.” Junmyeon winces slightly. Minseok knows that he’s hitting low, that Junmyeon had never wanted to change his lifestyle like this. But Minseok is still thrumming with rage, and he knows that to get back at Young Blood he needs Junmyeon’s help. He’ll do anything to get that help, even if it means rubbing salt into wounds that still haven’t healed. “I remember when you used to make a game out of seeing how many heaven spots you could paint before getting hurt. You would bet against the rest of the crew over how high you could reach to write a tag.”
Junmyeon is hesitating. Minseok is watching him steadily, and gets a full view of the emotions fighting for control of Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon is desperately trying to convince himself to do the “right thing” and walk away, Minseok can tell by the way his hands have curled into fists on his desk. He’s wavering, and Minseok pushes.
“You’re dating a guy who tags cop cars for fun,” Minseok says. He tilts his head to the side slightly, like he’s skeptical of Junmyeon’s Upright and Proper Citizen act. “I mean, come on.”
“Fuck,” Junmyeon says. His hand reflexively reaches for the cell phone sitting on the corner of his desk. “I told Jongdae to stop doing that shit. I can’t-”
“I need your help,” Minseok cuts back in. He leans over the desk, elbows resting on the edge, and widens his eyes beseechingly. “You’re the best at identifying styles, and I need to figure out at least some of their pieces for sure. These kids have been fucking with everyone and they think they’re invincible and they need a lesson. Please.”
Junmyeon pauses, hand still extended towards his phone. He stares at Minseok, hard, for a second before slowly slumping back into his seat. Letting out a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and messes up the carefully gelled styling. Junmyeon is younger than Minseok, but for a second he seems much older. The responsibilities Junmyeon has taken onto himself, the accelerated business degree program, the impeccable grades, the job at his father’s company, have all worked to age him prematurely.
Junmyeon closes his eyes, like he’s considering, and when he opens them he looks his normal age again. There’s a spark in his eye, too, one that Minseok recognizes from whenever Junmyeon would find a new heaven spot to paint. Minseok grins.
“I can probably get off work around five to do very important research for a project proposal,” Junmyeon says offhandedly, like he truly is discussing his work. “I’ll need more appropriate attire, though.”
“My last class finishes at four thirty.” Minseok is positively beaming now. “Drop by my apartment after you get off. I’ve got you covered.”
--
Hongdae is crowded in the evening, even on weekdays. People stream past Minseok as he stands and contemplates the piece in front of him. He’d been right, there were several pieces around the children’s park with a style similar to the one by the cafe. Going from the pictures Minseok had taken on his phone, Junmyeon identified three for certain as being by the same artists despite the lack of signatures, as well as found another he wasn’t positive about. Minseok wishes they had more to work with, and he suspects that if they did a more thorough search of the area they could find more, but for now this will do.
Junmyeon is over by one of the other pieces, decked out in a set of Minseok’s painting clothes, complete with a beanie and a mask. He’s no celebrity, but it could be problematic if pictures of him writing graffiti appeared online. Minseok, on the other hand, had opted out of anything that could obscure his identity. He doesn’t mind being seen; in fact, he hopes that one of the people walking past is a Young Blood member, so they can see the consequences of their actions firsthand. They played with fire, and now they’re finally going to get burned.
“NO ONE CAN HIDE FOREVER,” Minseok writes, large enough to stretch from one end of the piece to the other. He keeps it simple, using neat handwriting instead of graffiti writing style. Somehow stylizing the text feels like acknowledgement of Young Blood as legitimate artists, and Minseok refuses to give them even that small amount of credit. Minseok finishes off with his own tag. Young Blood may be cowards who hide behind anonymity, but Minseok refuses to sink to that level.
Minseok already left a message on another of the pieces Junmyeon identified, and Junmyeon is off taking care of the third piece. Knowing Junmyeon, he’s probably chosen a cautionary proverb, much like a teacher gently scolding their students. This is another reason Minseok had asked Junmyeon instead of one of the others - he could trust Junmyeon to keep his cool. Anyone else would have created absolute chaos. Minseok wouldn’t blame them, but thoughts of cleaning up the aftermath make his head throb preemptively.
Minseok surveys his work for a second, taking in the way his black paint cuts across the vibrant colors. It’s satisfying to look at, in the same way that scratching a mosquito bite is satisfying. It feels good at the moment, but Minseok is more than aware that these actions will most likely just inflame the situation further. Now that Minseok has marked out some of Young Blood’s work, he’s certain that other artists will catch on and begin exacting their own revenge.
Minseok caps his paint and leaves to find Junmyeon. Maybe Young Blood will retaliate, or maybe they will finally quit. There’s no way to tell, though, and Minseok isn’t going to waste his time worrying about it. What’s done is done, and all Minseok can do now is wait and see.
--
Jongin apologizes to Minseok about a million times. He seems to feel personally responsible for not being able to head the crew off before they slashed Minseok’s new piece. No matter how many times Minseok reassures him, Jongin remains convinced of his personal guilt.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into Sehun lately,” Jongin says over a bowl of soup. They had been studying together as usual, and when dinner approached Jongin had practically begged to buy something for Minseok. Usually Minseok would have turned him down, but Jongin had looked rather like a kicked puppy and in the end Minseok had given in and followed Jongin to a nearby Japanese restaurant. “He’s not usually this much of an asshole.”
Minseok shifts uncomfortably and pokes at his own pork cutlet rice bowl. “You don’t have to put him down for my sake,” Minseok says. He picks up a piece of meat, but stares at it instead of putting it in his mouth. “I mean, I appreciate that you’re sticking up for me, but you’ve been friends with Sehun for so long. I don’t want to cause any problems.”
This is something that has been bothering Minseok ever since Jongin first approached him. During the time he’s spent with Jongin, Minseok has learned that Jongin and Sehun are close, if not best, friends, but that lately Jongin is constantly annoyed at Sehun. Specifically, Jongin is mad at Sehun for Minseok’s sake. Minseok feels at a loss. He enjoys hanging out with Jongin, and wants to get to know him better. But at the same time Minseok doesn’t want to pull Jongin closer to himself if it means pulling Jongin away from his friend. The absolute last thing Minseok wants is for Jongin to lose his friendship with Sehun because of Minseok.
“No, it’s not that,” Jongin says, frowning at his noodles. He brushes the words off so easily, like the thought had never even occurred to him, that Minseok can’t help but feel slightly relieved. “I mean, Sehun can be an ass at times, but he’s genuinely a good guy, you know? Lately, though, he’s just been really over the top.”
Minseok doesn’t know, actually, but he nods anyway. After all, the same thing could probably be said for a good number of Minseok’s own friends. Jongin is biting his lip again, lost in thought, and Minseok finds himself staring. When he realizes what he’s doing Minseok forces himself to look down at his food.
“He’s not telling me anything now, and neither is anyone else,” Jongin says after a moment. It’s almost like he’s talking to himself, and his brow furrows further. “Everything seems so quiet at the moment. I’m not really sure what to think.”
That much Minseok can agree on. It’s been almost a week since he and Junmyeon slashed Young Blood’s works, and all of Young Blood’s tagging has stopped. Other artists did in fact catch onto what Minseok and Junmyeon had done, and the original pieces by Young Blood, along with Minseok and Junmyeon’s writing, were almost immediately lost under a slew of others’ backlash. Several other pieces in similar styles to the original works - some of them almost certainly other artists’ innocent work that got caught in the crossfire - also received the same treatment.
Young Blood themselves, however, have stayed completely silent.
Jongin sighs. “I really hope they’re not planning anything stupid.”
Minseok’s mind flashes back to the tag he just finished fixing on his commission piece. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Me too.”
--
Later that night Minseok finishes submitting an online homework assignment and then hauls himself out to Hapjeong with his bag of paints in tow. Minseok generally prefers to paint during the day when he’s working on commissions. He doesn’t need the cover of night to hide, and the daytime light is infinitely better than street lamps and flashlights. Unfortunately, school has been eating up his time during the day, and even though the cafe owner has been understanding of Minseok’s schedule, Minseok does still have a deadline for the end of the month.
It’s well after 11 p.m. when Minseok arrives, and even though the area isn’t completely deserted it’s much quieter than during the day. As he walks Minseok passes some couples, and a group of girls in matching university letterman jackets. There’s a sort of calm that takes over after the sun goes down and Minseok revels in it, taking his time to get to the cafe.
Minseok is almost to his destination when he hears raised voices and spots a familiar head of multi-colored hair. As he cautiously edges closer Minseok realizes that Sehun is facing off against two police officers, with an open duffel bag full of aerosol paints on the ground between them.
Sehun is arguing loudly with the unimpressed officers, and for a second Minseok feels a giddy surge of joy. After all the trouble Sehun has caused for Minseok, it’s satisfying to see Sehun in a spot of trouble himself. Minseok hangs back in the shadows, surveying the scene, and considers detouring around them and leaving Sehun to his fate. But then Jongin’s worried face flashes across his thoughts, and Minseok’s feelings of gratified retribution completely evaporate.
Minseok sighs and hikes his bag higher on his shoulder before jogging the rest of the way over to Sehun and the police officers. “Sehun!” he calls out as he approaches, and both Sehun and the officers turn to stare at him. When Sehun catches sight of Minseok he looks like his eyes might pop out of his head, and Minseok would probably laugh under different circumstances. As it is, he just claps Sehun on the shoulder when he reaches him and says, “Hey, sorry I’m late. What’s going on here?”
Instead of answering, Sehun stares dumbly at Minseok. Minseok tightens his grip, just play along with it. Before Sehun can recoup, one of the policemen answers for him. “We found this kid skulking around suspiciously and asked him what he was up to,” the officer says. He’s eyeing Minseok and the backpack on his shoulder distrustfully. “We’ve had some complaints lately about graffiti from businesses in the area” -Minseok remembers the elderly man stamping around in the street and tries not to laugh- “so we were asked to step up patrols in this area.” The other police officer mutters something that sounds like, “waste of time,” but the first officer ignores him.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Sehun mumbles, hunching his shoulders. Everyone glares at him, and he slumps down further.
Both officers turn their attention back to Minseok, and Minseok puts on his best winning smile. “Thank you for your hard work,” Minseok tells the police officers with as much sincerity as he can manage. “Those punks who’ve been going around vandalizing are making things hard for people like us, too.” Minseok slings an arm around Sehun’s shoulder. It’s a little awkward with the height difference, but Sehun seems to finally have gotten the memo and bends slightly to make it seem more natural. “My name is Kim Minseok,” Minseok says, still smiling. “I’m working on a commissioned mural for a cafe just down the street.”
The talkative officer looks at Minseok and raises an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night?”
“I’m a university student finishing up an honors computer programming degree.” Minseok’s smile is as bright as ever, but his voice is now ice. “I don’t even have time to sleep, much less pick and choose when I want to work on this painting. I come whenever I can, which right now happens to be in the middle of the night.” He nudges Sehun lightly with his hip and squeezes the shoulder his hand is still resting on again. “That’s why I asked Sehun here to help me out a bit. My deadline is coming up soon, and I’m running behind. I got held up by some school work, though, so he got here first.”
The officers still look unconvinced, so Minseok pulls out his phone. “The cafe closed at eleven, but if you want I can call the owner right now to confirm for you.” Minseok holds his phone out, locking eyes with the talkative officer. They stay like that for a moment, facing off, and Minseok is proud of the way his hand barely even shakes.
“Come on,” the officer who has barely spoken finally pipes up once everyone goes stiff with tension. “Just leave them. We’re all just wasting our time because some geezer got his panties in a twist, anyway.” He turns and begins walking away, leaving his partner behind. The other officer hesitates, glancing from Minseok and Sehun’s faces to the open gym bag of paints, before giving in and bowing stiffly. If this were a movie there would be some witty parting remarks, but Minseok just bows back, forcing Sehun to bow as well, and then Minseok and Sehun are alone in the street.
Minseok slowly lets out the breath he’d been holding, then takes off his hat so that he can run a hand through his hair. Now that the officers are gone all the nerves Minseok had been suppressing come rushing in at once. Minseok’s hands shake as he puts his hat back on. He knows that he should probably say something to Sehun, but that’s just about the last thing he wants to do at the moment, so he sets off walking again without speaking.
“Hey, wait!” Sehun calls. He scrambles to pick up his bag and then follows Minseok. “What the hell was that?” Sehun hisses as he and Minseok round the last corner into the street where Minseok’s painting is.
“Exactly what it looked like,” Minseok says as he carefully sets his own bag down. He’s still jittery, but he can feel tension quickly subsiding now that he’s away from the scene. In its place is a new wave of anger at Sehun and his goddamn attitude. “Me saving your sorry ass.”
“But you hate me,” Sehun says. He’s standing at the end of the street with his arms crossed, standoffish as ever. Minseok squats down next to his bag, inhales, counts to five, and then breathes out.
“I do,” Minseok replies as he opens the zipper. “And I would have happily left you to deal with whatever fine or community service they gave you. But...” He finds the first can of paint he’ll need and sets it down on the sidewalk before continuing, “Jongin says you’re a good person. So although I personally think you’re an annoying cowardly asshole, I’m going to trust his judgment this time.”
“Jongin?” Sehun asks, and even though Minseok is still looking through his bag he can hear the uncertainty in Sehun’s voice. Sehun pauses for a moment, like he’s turning the information around in his head, and when he speaks again he sounds almost perplexed. “So you’re going to let me off, just like that? Do you even know what I was going to-”
“I don’t want to know what you were going to do,” Minseok snaps. He grabs his mask out of his bag - even though he’s outside he always prefers to wear a mask for longer, more detailed projects - and stands up with his mask in one hand and a can of paint in the other. He feels like he’s trapped in some mockery of a reenactment of his first meeting with Sehun. The circumstances are different, but Minseok can’t shake a sense of déjà vu. Minseok turns and meets Sehun’s gaze head on, holding it. “What I want is for you to get the fuck out of here. I wasn’t lying, I really do have a deadline, and thanks to some punk ass kids who decided to come fuck my shit up I truly am behind schedule.”
Sehun visibly hesitates, almost as if he’s taken aback. Minseok watches as Sehun pulls himself back together and puts back on his look of affected disinterest. At last Sehun says, “I’m not going to say thank you.”
“That’s fine,” Minseok grinds out. “I don’t want you to. But if, instead, you could stop scribbling all over everyone else’s work and just focus on your own business that would be fucking great.”
Sehun opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then changes his mind and turns on his heel. After he’s gone Minseok closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Minseok really wants to punch something, but he holds it in and tries to calm himself down as he exhales. He’s only marginally successful. Minseok can still feel anger pulsing through him as he puts on his mask and then shakes the can in his hand. Usually working on art would help. This time, though, he gets swept up in a fresh wave of annoyance every time he glances over to where he’d had to patch up the tag.
Minseok tries not to think about what Sehun had been planning to do, and what may have happened if Minseok hadn’t come to work on the piece on this day, at this particular time. He hadn’t been lying when he told Sehun he didn’t want to know. Minseok has already got stress pressing down on him from every angle, and he’s tired of having Sehun and his crew adding to that. And while Minseok may be willing to bail Jongin’s obnoxious friend out of a sticky situation, Minseok is not sure that he’s even emotionally capable of dealing with the knowledge of whatever it was Sehun had planned. It’s self preservation that keeps him from questioning, and he honestly hopes that Sehun’s foiled plan had been the worst of it.
--
The quiet after the storm with Young Blood never actually breaks. Minseok is on edge at first, especially after his encounter with Sehun, but nothing drastic happens. Minseok turns in his project, finishes the commission, and ends the month with more money in his bank account and a temporary respite from the stress he’s had piled on his shoulders ever since the semester started. He treats Jongin to barbeque and goes clubbing with Lu Han and Yixing. Minseok feels more relaxed than he’s been in months.
“that kid came into the store today,” Lu Han texts him on a Sunday afternoon. Minseok, preoccupied with the movie he’s watching on his laptop, doesn’t give the text much thought and absentmindedly sends back, “what kid?”
“your secret lover who stole you away from me,” Lu Han replies. “tall, wears snapbacks all the time, has great lips.”
Oh. A feeling of dread starts to settle into Minseok’s stomach as he asks, “jongin? my junior?”
“yeah him.” The feeling of dread immediately intensifies.
“what did you say to him please tell me you didn’t traumatize him,” Minseok texts back urgently. Lu Han has got his attention now - the movie is all but forgotten.
“i only told him the important things,” Lu Han replies, and Minseok’s sure that he’s doing his best “you’ve-wronged-me” pout. “ur favorite color, ur favorite food, the size of ur dick.”
Minseok groans and puts his head in his hands. The problem with Lu Han is that it’s about a 50/50 toss up between whether he’s teasing or dead serious.
“you don’t know how big my dick is tho,” he sends back, pretending to be unaffected simply because he knows from experience that the second you let Lu Han know he’s gotten to you everything will quickly go downhill.
“yeah i do. smaller than mine.”
Minseok snorts. “that’s a damn lie.”
“aaaanyway,” Lu Han says, as if Minseok was the one who took the conversation off track to start with. “u have good taste. now that i’m paying attention he’s actually totally hot.”
Minseok is in the middle of typing out an indignant reply when Lu Han continues, “and he’s totally into u.”
Minseok stops, gobsmacked, and stares at his phone for a second before hastily replying. “what are you talking about? he’s just my junior leave the poor kid alone.”
“no dude,” Lu Han immediately sends back. “once i said i knew u he was totally into the convo and asking me all these questions n stuff. the second he started talking abt u i swear his face started radiating fuckin sunshine.”
Minseok blinks dumbly at the message, rereading it over and over. He can picture the expression Lu Han is describing clearly - it’s the look Jongin gets whenever he’s excited or talking about something he’s passionate about. Minseok has seen it many times, whenever Jongin starts talking about art or animation or his dogs. But Minseok can’t imagine that Jongin would have had that look while talking about Minseok. No, Minseok decides, that couldn’t have been it. Jongin was just interested in learning about Minseok because they spend a lot of time together, and he’s a fan of Minseok’s work. There’s nothing more than that; Lu Han must be imagining things.
“give it a rest,” Minseok eventually replies after a long pause. “it’s not like that.”
“believe what u want,” is Lu Han’s response. “but i’m totally right.”
The entire rest of the day Minseok finds himself randomly opening the conversation again. He reads it over until the words seem like they’ll become imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Minseok tells himself that and Jongin are just friends. There’s no way Jongin feels that way about Minseok. Minseok doesn’t feel that way about Jongin. That’s not how it is.
--
Do Kyungsoo is about Minseok’s own height, has an adorable face, and is tough as nails. Minseok learns all this within about five minutes of meeting him. Kyungsoo practically radiates no-nonsense efficiency even in his emails, and in real life it’s overwhelming at first. When Minseok arrives at the cafe Kyungsoo had arranged to meet him at to discuss the details of a possible commission piece, Kyungsoo wastes no time getting straight to the point.
“The owner decided that he wants to do a complete overhaul of the interior, but he doesn’t want take care of it himself,” Kyungsoo says. He taps the side of his coffee mug as he speaks, a light staccato against ceramic to express his displeasure. “So he pushes it off onto the poor, already overworked manager - that’s me, by the way - and says that he wants the place to look ‘cool and hip.’ Yes, those were his actual words.”
Minseok nods, silently inviting Kyungsoo to continue because he doesn’t quite dare to interrupt. He likes Kyungsoo, and he thinks they’ll get along well, but he really does not want to get on Kyungsoo’s bad side.
“So I thought it might work to go for a street art kind of look,” Kyungsoo says. His eyes are large and seem like they should further soften his features, but they practically pierce into Minseok. “I asked around a bit, and eventually got directed to miss Kwon Yuri. But she said she doesn’t paint anymore, and directed me to you. And here we are.”
Minseok nods again in acknowledgment. Kyungsoo seems to be done now, so Minseok ventures a question. “What exactly do you have in mind for the art?”
Kyungsoo immediately whips out a tablet and starts flipping through pictures as soon as he sets it on the table where Minseok can see. “The store is a pretty standard shoebox shape, but there are shelves along the longer walls so it would be hard for you to do anything there. I was thinking that maybe you could do something behind the register, where everyone will see it clearly.”
“That sounds good,” Minseok says. He reaches out and taps back to a head-on picture of the register area. It’s not a giant space, but it’s not tiny either. Minseok can definitely work with it. “Do you have any idea of what kind of image you’d like?”
“Maybe something with different genres of music? I don’t know, I’m no artist. That’s why I called you in.” Kyungsoo laughs, and Minseok laughs with him. “But I will say that you don’t have to worry about it being too cliche. In fact, the more cliche it is the happier my boss will probably be.”
Minseok laughs again and passes the tablet back to Kyungsoo. “I’m sure I can figure something out,” he says. “Is there any chance I can go see the store? Then I can take some pictures and hopefully sketching out some ideas for you within the week.”
“Sure,” Kyungsoo replies as he tucks the tablet back into his bag. “It’s pretty close to here, actually, in the part of Hongdae that kind of bleeds over into Sinchon. We can go right now, if you want.”
Minseok agrees and hastily finishes his coffee. When he’s finished the two of them walk over to the store, where Minseok uses his phone to take copious pictures for himself, and leaves with a promise to Kyungsoo that he’ll have a design sketched up within the week.
--
“What are you working on?” Jongin asks, leaning over to Minseok’s side of the table. They’re in the library, per usual. Technically Minseok should be preparing a presentation for the next week, but his laptop is set aside and he’s bent over a sketchbook instead.
“I got another commission,” Minseok says without looking up from his drawing. He adds another swirl, contemplates it, then sighs. There are several pages in his sketchbook preceding this one that he has already scrapped. He’s decently satisfied with this one in comparison, but it still seems lacking.
“Can I see?” Jongin asks. He slides over to Minseok’s side of the table, and Minseok lets him pull the notebook closer. Jongin’s eyebrows draw together in concentration as he stares at the sketch, and Minseok feels an uneasy flutter of apprehension in his stomach. To distract himself, he shoves his phone over to Jongin too.
“It’s for a record store,” Minseok says with a gesture towards the photos on his phone. Jongin’s still got that look he has whenever he’s focusing on a project, and it does nothing to calm Minseok’s sudden nerves. “I have some pictures of the workspace here. The request was for ‘cliche’ and ‘different genres of music’ and I’m totally stumped.”
Jongin hums and picks up the phone. “I think you’ve got a good start,” he says as he flips through the pictures. “You’ve definitely got the different genres part down.” The center of the sketch features a DJ with a turntable. Behind him stretches out a swirling cloud that contains various instruments, music notes, cartoons of some famous musicians, and items commonly associated with certain types of music. He’s even worked in the fan and buk drum from traditional Korean pansori musical storytelling.
“There’s something missing, though,” Minseok says. “Since the space is more rectangular and this design is more square I was thinking of putting it in the upper left corner to go for an asymmetrical effect, but honestly I’m not really feeling it.”
“What about tying it into the surroundings a bit somehow?” Jongin asks. He leans in closer to Minseok, and Minseok feels warm where their thighs are pressed together. “Over here, on the right side, there are shelves almost all the way back to the back wall,” Jongin continues and Minseok forces himself to focus. “Do you know what genre those are? Maybe you could, like, have some part of your drawing directly connect to that?”
Minseok squints at the screen, trying to remember the store layout. “I think they were rap and hip hop,” he says. He reaches over and enlarges that part of the picture, and sure enough the edge of the shelving unit has a label that says “HIP HOP” in English.
“How can you directly connect hip hop to what you already have?” Jongin muses. Minseok picks up his pencil and taps it against the sketchbook. When he thinks of “hip hop” the first thing to immediately pop into his mind is a memory from a few weeks before. Minseok had caught Jongin watching dance videos online while they were in the library. Jongin had sheepishly explained that he needed a study break, then invited Minseok to watch with him.
“I used to watch a lot of dance videos, back when I was first teaching myself how to animate,” Jongin had said. “I like hip hop the most, so I would find my favorite dance battles and first try to duplicate them just loosely, freehand, focusing on trying to portray the movement. Then I’d break the videos down frame by frame and look at the more technical things.” Jongin had spent almost an hour showing Minseok all his favorite clips, and even a few of his old animations.
Without really realizing what he’s doing Minseok starts to sketch. Jongin watches curiously as Minseok changes the bottom of his drawing so that it is dripping. Some of the droplets turn into music notes, but one gets larger and turns into a man. Minseok is no Jongin, but he manages to more or less make it look like the guy is breakdancing across the page. At the end he’s standing, one hand shading his eyes, looking up at where the hip hop shelves would be.
Minseok looks up, and Jongin is staring at him. His eyes are questioning; Minseok grins. “Hey, Jongin,” Minseok says. “How do you feel about working on a commission piece with me?”
next ➞
“Hello?” Minseok half asks, half yawns.
“I’m so sorry,” the voice on the other end says. Minseok pauses for a second before he manages to place who it is.
“Jongin?” Minseok asks. He pulls the phone away from his ear and squints at the tiny clock in the upper left corner. 6:07 a.m.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Jongin repeats as if Minseok hadn’t said anything. He sounds anxious, almost out of breath. “Sehun made sure no one told me anything before they did it, I only just found out when I got to dance practice and Sehun was talking about it and-”
“What?” Minseok cuts in blearily. He feels like someone has replaced his brain with cotton candy. “Who did what?”
“It’s your new piece, the commission you’re working on for that coffee shop,” Jongin says slowly, like he’s forcing himself to annunciate instead of rushing. “Sehun and the crew-”
Someone might as well have dumped ice water over Minseok’s head. He’s suddenly completely awake, and his stomach feels like lead. “Fuck,” he says with feeling and drops his phone back onto the desk without even hanging up. He manages to pull on clothes and get out the door in record time. At the bus stop he bounces in place, unable to stay still, and even on the bus he stands by the door instead of sitting despite the rows of vacant seats.
Hapjeong, like the bus Minseok caught to get there, is almost empty at 6:30 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Only a few people are wandering around as Minseok jogs straight from the bus stop to the cafe. Once he reaches the cafe, though, he finds the side street that the wall he’s working on runs along already occupied. There’s an elderly man, presumably the owner of the restaurant across the way, stomping around and yelling into his cell phone. He’s saying something about damn kids and no respect and it’s not hard to see why. The wall of his restaurant, the one facing Minseok’s piece, now has its own painting of a girl puking out mess of sea creature skeletons. It’s not hard to see that it’s meant to be a response to Minseok’s work.
The new piece is large enough that multiple people probably worked to get it thrown up quickly, but even so there’s a pretty distinct cartoon style to it. It vaguely reminds Minseok of some unsigned works that have appeared over by the Hongdae children’s park in the past month or so. It all starts to click and Minseok resists the urge to laugh. Of course, it makes sense that Young Blood hasn’t been marking their work - if they did all their art would be swarmed by the other artists they’ve pissed off. Cowards.
The elderly man finally catches sight of Minseok, standing at the end of the street in his painting jeans - apparently the first ones he had managed to grab - and an oversized hoodie, and glares. “You!” the man shouts, gesturing at Minseok with his phone. “Did you do this?”
“No, sir,” Minseok says tiredly. He could point out that the culprits of something like this would never be stupid enough to be found at the scene, but he honestly doesn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, he gestures at his own piece. “There’s no reason for me to put a giant tag over my own art, is there?” Because, sure enough, right in the bottom corner of Minseok’s piece there’s a brand new tag in the design Minseok has become so familiar with.
The man huffs and goes back to his phone. He keeps yelling about how this isn’t Hongdae and the police are going to get involved but Minseok isn’t really paying attention. He can’t pull his eyes away from the tag. Luckily it will be easy enough to cover up, but that doesn’t help calm the silent rage building momentum inside of him. Going over finished pieces is one thing. They’ve been around, they’ve served their time, it makes sense that they’ll be replaced. But this is something else entirely. This is a new piece, not even finished yet, not even close to Young Blood’s territory.
Minseok has been tolerant, has left the conflict with Young Blood at nothing more than hollow warnings. He let them continue, despite quite possibly knowing more about them than any of the other artists who are angry at them. But he has his limits, and this? This has overshot them by a mile, without any chance of turning back.
Minseok doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he almost drops his phone while taking it out from his pocket. He has about a thirty messages from Jongin and two missed calls, but he ignores them and scrolls through his address book. It’s not even 6:30 in the morning yet, but he finds Junmyeon’s entry and presses call.
--
“No.”
Junmyeon’s office is small but still fancy. Minseok is pretty sure that any one piece of the decor is worth more than Minseok’s entire apartment. But that, Minseok supposes, comes along with being the son of the section head of an important international shipping company. It contrasts sharply with Minseok’s memories of freshman year, and all the times he, Junmyeon, and the rest of their friends spent in grimy alleys and hazy samgyeopsal restaurants.
“I know that you quit,” Minseok says. “But seriously need your help.”
It’s 10 a.m. now, a slightly more reasonable meeting time according to Junmyeon. Minseok doesn’t mind too much. Coming to the office later had saved him the 40 minute subway ride to Junmyeon’s apartment in Jamwon with the morning commute crush.
“I want to help you,” Junmyeon says slowly. He’s wearing a three-piece suit, and Minseok feels grungy in comparison, still in his paint-stained jeans. “But I can’t do that kind of stuff anymore. I can’t risk it.”
Minseok narrows his eyes slightly. “This from the guy who used to live for risks.” Junmyeon winces slightly. Minseok knows that he’s hitting low, that Junmyeon had never wanted to change his lifestyle like this. But Minseok is still thrumming with rage, and he knows that to get back at Young Blood he needs Junmyeon’s help. He’ll do anything to get that help, even if it means rubbing salt into wounds that still haven’t healed. “I remember when you used to make a game out of seeing how many heaven spots you could paint before getting hurt. You would bet against the rest of the crew over how high you could reach to write a tag.”
Junmyeon is hesitating. Minseok is watching him steadily, and gets a full view of the emotions fighting for control of Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon is desperately trying to convince himself to do the “right thing” and walk away, Minseok can tell by the way his hands have curled into fists on his desk. He’s wavering, and Minseok pushes.
“You’re dating a guy who tags cop cars for fun,” Minseok says. He tilts his head to the side slightly, like he’s skeptical of Junmyeon’s Upright and Proper Citizen act. “I mean, come on.”
“Fuck,” Junmyeon says. His hand reflexively reaches for the cell phone sitting on the corner of his desk. “I told Jongdae to stop doing that shit. I can’t-”
“I need your help,” Minseok cuts back in. He leans over the desk, elbows resting on the edge, and widens his eyes beseechingly. “You’re the best at identifying styles, and I need to figure out at least some of their pieces for sure. These kids have been fucking with everyone and they think they’re invincible and they need a lesson. Please.”
Junmyeon pauses, hand still extended towards his phone. He stares at Minseok, hard, for a second before slowly slumping back into his seat. Letting out a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and messes up the carefully gelled styling. Junmyeon is younger than Minseok, but for a second he seems much older. The responsibilities Junmyeon has taken onto himself, the accelerated business degree program, the impeccable grades, the job at his father’s company, have all worked to age him prematurely.
Junmyeon closes his eyes, like he’s considering, and when he opens them he looks his normal age again. There’s a spark in his eye, too, one that Minseok recognizes from whenever Junmyeon would find a new heaven spot to paint. Minseok grins.
“I can probably get off work around five to do very important research for a project proposal,” Junmyeon says offhandedly, like he truly is discussing his work. “I’ll need more appropriate attire, though.”
“My last class finishes at four thirty.” Minseok is positively beaming now. “Drop by my apartment after you get off. I’ve got you covered.”
--
Hongdae is crowded in the evening, even on weekdays. People stream past Minseok as he stands and contemplates the piece in front of him. He’d been right, there were several pieces around the children’s park with a style similar to the one by the cafe. Going from the pictures Minseok had taken on his phone, Junmyeon identified three for certain as being by the same artists despite the lack of signatures, as well as found another he wasn’t positive about. Minseok wishes they had more to work with, and he suspects that if they did a more thorough search of the area they could find more, but for now this will do.
Junmyeon is over by one of the other pieces, decked out in a set of Minseok’s painting clothes, complete with a beanie and a mask. He’s no celebrity, but it could be problematic if pictures of him writing graffiti appeared online. Minseok, on the other hand, had opted out of anything that could obscure his identity. He doesn’t mind being seen; in fact, he hopes that one of the people walking past is a Young Blood member, so they can see the consequences of their actions firsthand. They played with fire, and now they’re finally going to get burned.
“NO ONE CAN HIDE FOREVER,” Minseok writes, large enough to stretch from one end of the piece to the other. He keeps it simple, using neat handwriting instead of graffiti writing style. Somehow stylizing the text feels like acknowledgement of Young Blood as legitimate artists, and Minseok refuses to give them even that small amount of credit. Minseok finishes off with his own tag. Young Blood may be cowards who hide behind anonymity, but Minseok refuses to sink to that level.
Minseok already left a message on another of the pieces Junmyeon identified, and Junmyeon is off taking care of the third piece. Knowing Junmyeon, he’s probably chosen a cautionary proverb, much like a teacher gently scolding their students. This is another reason Minseok had asked Junmyeon instead of one of the others - he could trust Junmyeon to keep his cool. Anyone else would have created absolute chaos. Minseok wouldn’t blame them, but thoughts of cleaning up the aftermath make his head throb preemptively.
Minseok surveys his work for a second, taking in the way his black paint cuts across the vibrant colors. It’s satisfying to look at, in the same way that scratching a mosquito bite is satisfying. It feels good at the moment, but Minseok is more than aware that these actions will most likely just inflame the situation further. Now that Minseok has marked out some of Young Blood’s work, he’s certain that other artists will catch on and begin exacting their own revenge.
Minseok caps his paint and leaves to find Junmyeon. Maybe Young Blood will retaliate, or maybe they will finally quit. There’s no way to tell, though, and Minseok isn’t going to waste his time worrying about it. What’s done is done, and all Minseok can do now is wait and see.
--
Jongin apologizes to Minseok about a million times. He seems to feel personally responsible for not being able to head the crew off before they slashed Minseok’s new piece. No matter how many times Minseok reassures him, Jongin remains convinced of his personal guilt.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into Sehun lately,” Jongin says over a bowl of soup. They had been studying together as usual, and when dinner approached Jongin had practically begged to buy something for Minseok. Usually Minseok would have turned him down, but Jongin had looked rather like a kicked puppy and in the end Minseok had given in and followed Jongin to a nearby Japanese restaurant. “He’s not usually this much of an asshole.”
Minseok shifts uncomfortably and pokes at his own pork cutlet rice bowl. “You don’t have to put him down for my sake,” Minseok says. He picks up a piece of meat, but stares at it instead of putting it in his mouth. “I mean, I appreciate that you’re sticking up for me, but you’ve been friends with Sehun for so long. I don’t want to cause any problems.”
This is something that has been bothering Minseok ever since Jongin first approached him. During the time he’s spent with Jongin, Minseok has learned that Jongin and Sehun are close, if not best, friends, but that lately Jongin is constantly annoyed at Sehun. Specifically, Jongin is mad at Sehun for Minseok’s sake. Minseok feels at a loss. He enjoys hanging out with Jongin, and wants to get to know him better. But at the same time Minseok doesn’t want to pull Jongin closer to himself if it means pulling Jongin away from his friend. The absolute last thing Minseok wants is for Jongin to lose his friendship with Sehun because of Minseok.
“No, it’s not that,” Jongin says, frowning at his noodles. He brushes the words off so easily, like the thought had never even occurred to him, that Minseok can’t help but feel slightly relieved. “I mean, Sehun can be an ass at times, but he’s genuinely a good guy, you know? Lately, though, he’s just been really over the top.”
Minseok doesn’t know, actually, but he nods anyway. After all, the same thing could probably be said for a good number of Minseok’s own friends. Jongin is biting his lip again, lost in thought, and Minseok finds himself staring. When he realizes what he’s doing Minseok forces himself to look down at his food.
“He’s not telling me anything now, and neither is anyone else,” Jongin says after a moment. It’s almost like he’s talking to himself, and his brow furrows further. “Everything seems so quiet at the moment. I’m not really sure what to think.”
That much Minseok can agree on. It’s been almost a week since he and Junmyeon slashed Young Blood’s works, and all of Young Blood’s tagging has stopped. Other artists did in fact catch onto what Minseok and Junmyeon had done, and the original pieces by Young Blood, along with Minseok and Junmyeon’s writing, were almost immediately lost under a slew of others’ backlash. Several other pieces in similar styles to the original works - some of them almost certainly other artists’ innocent work that got caught in the crossfire - also received the same treatment.
Young Blood themselves, however, have stayed completely silent.
Jongin sighs. “I really hope they’re not planning anything stupid.”
Minseok’s mind flashes back to the tag he just finished fixing on his commission piece. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Me too.”
--
Later that night Minseok finishes submitting an online homework assignment and then hauls himself out to Hapjeong with his bag of paints in tow. Minseok generally prefers to paint during the day when he’s working on commissions. He doesn’t need the cover of night to hide, and the daytime light is infinitely better than street lamps and flashlights. Unfortunately, school has been eating up his time during the day, and even though the cafe owner has been understanding of Minseok’s schedule, Minseok does still have a deadline for the end of the month.
It’s well after 11 p.m. when Minseok arrives, and even though the area isn’t completely deserted it’s much quieter than during the day. As he walks Minseok passes some couples, and a group of girls in matching university letterman jackets. There’s a sort of calm that takes over after the sun goes down and Minseok revels in it, taking his time to get to the cafe.
Minseok is almost to his destination when he hears raised voices and spots a familiar head of multi-colored hair. As he cautiously edges closer Minseok realizes that Sehun is facing off against two police officers, with an open duffel bag full of aerosol paints on the ground between them.
Sehun is arguing loudly with the unimpressed officers, and for a second Minseok feels a giddy surge of joy. After all the trouble Sehun has caused for Minseok, it’s satisfying to see Sehun in a spot of trouble himself. Minseok hangs back in the shadows, surveying the scene, and considers detouring around them and leaving Sehun to his fate. But then Jongin’s worried face flashes across his thoughts, and Minseok’s feelings of gratified retribution completely evaporate.
Minseok sighs and hikes his bag higher on his shoulder before jogging the rest of the way over to Sehun and the police officers. “Sehun!” he calls out as he approaches, and both Sehun and the officers turn to stare at him. When Sehun catches sight of Minseok he looks like his eyes might pop out of his head, and Minseok would probably laugh under different circumstances. As it is, he just claps Sehun on the shoulder when he reaches him and says, “Hey, sorry I’m late. What’s going on here?”
Instead of answering, Sehun stares dumbly at Minseok. Minseok tightens his grip, just play along with it. Before Sehun can recoup, one of the policemen answers for him. “We found this kid skulking around suspiciously and asked him what he was up to,” the officer says. He’s eyeing Minseok and the backpack on his shoulder distrustfully. “We’ve had some complaints lately about graffiti from businesses in the area” -Minseok remembers the elderly man stamping around in the street and tries not to laugh- “so we were asked to step up patrols in this area.” The other police officer mutters something that sounds like, “waste of time,” but the first officer ignores him.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Sehun mumbles, hunching his shoulders. Everyone glares at him, and he slumps down further.
Both officers turn their attention back to Minseok, and Minseok puts on his best winning smile. “Thank you for your hard work,” Minseok tells the police officers with as much sincerity as he can manage. “Those punks who’ve been going around vandalizing are making things hard for people like us, too.” Minseok slings an arm around Sehun’s shoulder. It’s a little awkward with the height difference, but Sehun seems to finally have gotten the memo and bends slightly to make it seem more natural. “My name is Kim Minseok,” Minseok says, still smiling. “I’m working on a commissioned mural for a cafe just down the street.”
The talkative officer looks at Minseok and raises an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night?”
“I’m a university student finishing up an honors computer programming degree.” Minseok’s smile is as bright as ever, but his voice is now ice. “I don’t even have time to sleep, much less pick and choose when I want to work on this painting. I come whenever I can, which right now happens to be in the middle of the night.” He nudges Sehun lightly with his hip and squeezes the shoulder his hand is still resting on again. “That’s why I asked Sehun here to help me out a bit. My deadline is coming up soon, and I’m running behind. I got held up by some school work, though, so he got here first.”
The officers still look unconvinced, so Minseok pulls out his phone. “The cafe closed at eleven, but if you want I can call the owner right now to confirm for you.” Minseok holds his phone out, locking eyes with the talkative officer. They stay like that for a moment, facing off, and Minseok is proud of the way his hand barely even shakes.
“Come on,” the officer who has barely spoken finally pipes up once everyone goes stiff with tension. “Just leave them. We’re all just wasting our time because some geezer got his panties in a twist, anyway.” He turns and begins walking away, leaving his partner behind. The other officer hesitates, glancing from Minseok and Sehun’s faces to the open gym bag of paints, before giving in and bowing stiffly. If this were a movie there would be some witty parting remarks, but Minseok just bows back, forcing Sehun to bow as well, and then Minseok and Sehun are alone in the street.
Minseok slowly lets out the breath he’d been holding, then takes off his hat so that he can run a hand through his hair. Now that the officers are gone all the nerves Minseok had been suppressing come rushing in at once. Minseok’s hands shake as he puts his hat back on. He knows that he should probably say something to Sehun, but that’s just about the last thing he wants to do at the moment, so he sets off walking again without speaking.
“Hey, wait!” Sehun calls. He scrambles to pick up his bag and then follows Minseok. “What the hell was that?” Sehun hisses as he and Minseok round the last corner into the street where Minseok’s painting is.
“Exactly what it looked like,” Minseok says as he carefully sets his own bag down. He’s still jittery, but he can feel tension quickly subsiding now that he’s away from the scene. In its place is a new wave of anger at Sehun and his goddamn attitude. “Me saving your sorry ass.”
“But you hate me,” Sehun says. He’s standing at the end of the street with his arms crossed, standoffish as ever. Minseok squats down next to his bag, inhales, counts to five, and then breathes out.
“I do,” Minseok replies as he opens the zipper. “And I would have happily left you to deal with whatever fine or community service they gave you. But...” He finds the first can of paint he’ll need and sets it down on the sidewalk before continuing, “Jongin says you’re a good person. So although I personally think you’re an annoying cowardly asshole, I’m going to trust his judgment this time.”
“Jongin?” Sehun asks, and even though Minseok is still looking through his bag he can hear the uncertainty in Sehun’s voice. Sehun pauses for a moment, like he’s turning the information around in his head, and when he speaks again he sounds almost perplexed. “So you’re going to let me off, just like that? Do you even know what I was going to-”
“I don’t want to know what you were going to do,” Minseok snaps. He grabs his mask out of his bag - even though he’s outside he always prefers to wear a mask for longer, more detailed projects - and stands up with his mask in one hand and a can of paint in the other. He feels like he’s trapped in some mockery of a reenactment of his first meeting with Sehun. The circumstances are different, but Minseok can’t shake a sense of déjà vu. Minseok turns and meets Sehun’s gaze head on, holding it. “What I want is for you to get the fuck out of here. I wasn’t lying, I really do have a deadline, and thanks to some punk ass kids who decided to come fuck my shit up I truly am behind schedule.”
Sehun visibly hesitates, almost as if he’s taken aback. Minseok watches as Sehun pulls himself back together and puts back on his look of affected disinterest. At last Sehun says, “I’m not going to say thank you.”
“That’s fine,” Minseok grinds out. “I don’t want you to. But if, instead, you could stop scribbling all over everyone else’s work and just focus on your own business that would be fucking great.”
Sehun opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then changes his mind and turns on his heel. After he’s gone Minseok closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Minseok really wants to punch something, but he holds it in and tries to calm himself down as he exhales. He’s only marginally successful. Minseok can still feel anger pulsing through him as he puts on his mask and then shakes the can in his hand. Usually working on art would help. This time, though, he gets swept up in a fresh wave of annoyance every time he glances over to where he’d had to patch up the tag.
Minseok tries not to think about what Sehun had been planning to do, and what may have happened if Minseok hadn’t come to work on the piece on this day, at this particular time. He hadn’t been lying when he told Sehun he didn’t want to know. Minseok has already got stress pressing down on him from every angle, and he’s tired of having Sehun and his crew adding to that. And while Minseok may be willing to bail Jongin’s obnoxious friend out of a sticky situation, Minseok is not sure that he’s even emotionally capable of dealing with the knowledge of whatever it was Sehun had planned. It’s self preservation that keeps him from questioning, and he honestly hopes that Sehun’s foiled plan had been the worst of it.
--
The quiet after the storm with Young Blood never actually breaks. Minseok is on edge at first, especially after his encounter with Sehun, but nothing drastic happens. Minseok turns in his project, finishes the commission, and ends the month with more money in his bank account and a temporary respite from the stress he’s had piled on his shoulders ever since the semester started. He treats Jongin to barbeque and goes clubbing with Lu Han and Yixing. Minseok feels more relaxed than he’s been in months.
“that kid came into the store today,” Lu Han texts him on a Sunday afternoon. Minseok, preoccupied with the movie he’s watching on his laptop, doesn’t give the text much thought and absentmindedly sends back, “what kid?”
“your secret lover who stole you away from me,” Lu Han replies. “tall, wears snapbacks all the time, has great lips.”
Oh. A feeling of dread starts to settle into Minseok’s stomach as he asks, “jongin? my junior?”
“yeah him.” The feeling of dread immediately intensifies.
“what did you say to him please tell me you didn’t traumatize him,” Minseok texts back urgently. Lu Han has got his attention now - the movie is all but forgotten.
“i only told him the important things,” Lu Han replies, and Minseok’s sure that he’s doing his best “you’ve-wronged-me” pout. “ur favorite color, ur favorite food, the size of ur dick.”
Minseok groans and puts his head in his hands. The problem with Lu Han is that it’s about a 50/50 toss up between whether he’s teasing or dead serious.
“you don’t know how big my dick is tho,” he sends back, pretending to be unaffected simply because he knows from experience that the second you let Lu Han know he’s gotten to you everything will quickly go downhill.
“yeah i do. smaller than mine.”
Minseok snorts. “that’s a damn lie.”
“aaaanyway,” Lu Han says, as if Minseok was the one who took the conversation off track to start with. “u have good taste. now that i’m paying attention he’s actually totally hot.”
Minseok is in the middle of typing out an indignant reply when Lu Han continues, “and he’s totally into u.”
Minseok stops, gobsmacked, and stares at his phone for a second before hastily replying. “what are you talking about? he’s just my junior leave the poor kid alone.”
“no dude,” Lu Han immediately sends back. “once i said i knew u he was totally into the convo and asking me all these questions n stuff. the second he started talking abt u i swear his face started radiating fuckin sunshine.”
Minseok blinks dumbly at the message, rereading it over and over. He can picture the expression Lu Han is describing clearly - it’s the look Jongin gets whenever he’s excited or talking about something he’s passionate about. Minseok has seen it many times, whenever Jongin starts talking about art or animation or his dogs. But Minseok can’t imagine that Jongin would have had that look while talking about Minseok. No, Minseok decides, that couldn’t have been it. Jongin was just interested in learning about Minseok because they spend a lot of time together, and he’s a fan of Minseok’s work. There’s nothing more than that; Lu Han must be imagining things.
“give it a rest,” Minseok eventually replies after a long pause. “it’s not like that.”
“believe what u want,” is Lu Han’s response. “but i’m totally right.”
The entire rest of the day Minseok finds himself randomly opening the conversation again. He reads it over until the words seem like they’ll become imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Minseok tells himself that and Jongin are just friends. There’s no way Jongin feels that way about Minseok. Minseok doesn’t feel that way about Jongin. That’s not how it is.
--
Do Kyungsoo is about Minseok’s own height, has an adorable face, and is tough as nails. Minseok learns all this within about five minutes of meeting him. Kyungsoo practically radiates no-nonsense efficiency even in his emails, and in real life it’s overwhelming at first. When Minseok arrives at the cafe Kyungsoo had arranged to meet him at to discuss the details of a possible commission piece, Kyungsoo wastes no time getting straight to the point.
“The owner decided that he wants to do a complete overhaul of the interior, but he doesn’t want take care of it himself,” Kyungsoo says. He taps the side of his coffee mug as he speaks, a light staccato against ceramic to express his displeasure. “So he pushes it off onto the poor, already overworked manager - that’s me, by the way - and says that he wants the place to look ‘cool and hip.’ Yes, those were his actual words.”
Minseok nods, silently inviting Kyungsoo to continue because he doesn’t quite dare to interrupt. He likes Kyungsoo, and he thinks they’ll get along well, but he really does not want to get on Kyungsoo’s bad side.
“So I thought it might work to go for a street art kind of look,” Kyungsoo says. His eyes are large and seem like they should further soften his features, but they practically pierce into Minseok. “I asked around a bit, and eventually got directed to miss Kwon Yuri. But she said she doesn’t paint anymore, and directed me to you. And here we are.”
Minseok nods again in acknowledgment. Kyungsoo seems to be done now, so Minseok ventures a question. “What exactly do you have in mind for the art?”
Kyungsoo immediately whips out a tablet and starts flipping through pictures as soon as he sets it on the table where Minseok can see. “The store is a pretty standard shoebox shape, but there are shelves along the longer walls so it would be hard for you to do anything there. I was thinking that maybe you could do something behind the register, where everyone will see it clearly.”
“That sounds good,” Minseok says. He reaches out and taps back to a head-on picture of the register area. It’s not a giant space, but it’s not tiny either. Minseok can definitely work with it. “Do you have any idea of what kind of image you’d like?”
“Maybe something with different genres of music? I don’t know, I’m no artist. That’s why I called you in.” Kyungsoo laughs, and Minseok laughs with him. “But I will say that you don’t have to worry about it being too cliche. In fact, the more cliche it is the happier my boss will probably be.”
Minseok laughs again and passes the tablet back to Kyungsoo. “I’m sure I can figure something out,” he says. “Is there any chance I can go see the store? Then I can take some pictures and hopefully sketching out some ideas for you within the week.”
“Sure,” Kyungsoo replies as he tucks the tablet back into his bag. “It’s pretty close to here, actually, in the part of Hongdae that kind of bleeds over into Sinchon. We can go right now, if you want.”
Minseok agrees and hastily finishes his coffee. When he’s finished the two of them walk over to the store, where Minseok uses his phone to take copious pictures for himself, and leaves with a promise to Kyungsoo that he’ll have a design sketched up within the week.
--
“What are you working on?” Jongin asks, leaning over to Minseok’s side of the table. They’re in the library, per usual. Technically Minseok should be preparing a presentation for the next week, but his laptop is set aside and he’s bent over a sketchbook instead.
“I got another commission,” Minseok says without looking up from his drawing. He adds another swirl, contemplates it, then sighs. There are several pages in his sketchbook preceding this one that he has already scrapped. He’s decently satisfied with this one in comparison, but it still seems lacking.
“Can I see?” Jongin asks. He slides over to Minseok’s side of the table, and Minseok lets him pull the notebook closer. Jongin’s eyebrows draw together in concentration as he stares at the sketch, and Minseok feels an uneasy flutter of apprehension in his stomach. To distract himself, he shoves his phone over to Jongin too.
“It’s for a record store,” Minseok says with a gesture towards the photos on his phone. Jongin’s still got that look he has whenever he’s focusing on a project, and it does nothing to calm Minseok’s sudden nerves. “I have some pictures of the workspace here. The request was for ‘cliche’ and ‘different genres of music’ and I’m totally stumped.”
Jongin hums and picks up the phone. “I think you’ve got a good start,” he says as he flips through the pictures. “You’ve definitely got the different genres part down.” The center of the sketch features a DJ with a turntable. Behind him stretches out a swirling cloud that contains various instruments, music notes, cartoons of some famous musicians, and items commonly associated with certain types of music. He’s even worked in the fan and buk drum from traditional Korean pansori musical storytelling.
“There’s something missing, though,” Minseok says. “Since the space is more rectangular and this design is more square I was thinking of putting it in the upper left corner to go for an asymmetrical effect, but honestly I’m not really feeling it.”
“What about tying it into the surroundings a bit somehow?” Jongin asks. He leans in closer to Minseok, and Minseok feels warm where their thighs are pressed together. “Over here, on the right side, there are shelves almost all the way back to the back wall,” Jongin continues and Minseok forces himself to focus. “Do you know what genre those are? Maybe you could, like, have some part of your drawing directly connect to that?”
Minseok squints at the screen, trying to remember the store layout. “I think they were rap and hip hop,” he says. He reaches over and enlarges that part of the picture, and sure enough the edge of the shelving unit has a label that says “HIP HOP” in English.
“How can you directly connect hip hop to what you already have?” Jongin muses. Minseok picks up his pencil and taps it against the sketchbook. When he thinks of “hip hop” the first thing to immediately pop into his mind is a memory from a few weeks before. Minseok had caught Jongin watching dance videos online while they were in the library. Jongin had sheepishly explained that he needed a study break, then invited Minseok to watch with him.
“I used to watch a lot of dance videos, back when I was first teaching myself how to animate,” Jongin had said. “I like hip hop the most, so I would find my favorite dance battles and first try to duplicate them just loosely, freehand, focusing on trying to portray the movement. Then I’d break the videos down frame by frame and look at the more technical things.” Jongin had spent almost an hour showing Minseok all his favorite clips, and even a few of his old animations.
Without really realizing what he’s doing Minseok starts to sketch. Jongin watches curiously as Minseok changes the bottom of his drawing so that it is dripping. Some of the droplets turn into music notes, but one gets larger and turns into a man. Minseok is no Jongin, but he manages to more or less make it look like the guy is breakdancing across the page. At the end he’s standing, one hand shading his eyes, looking up at where the hip hop shelves would be.
Minseok looks up, and Jongin is staring at him. His eyes are questioning; Minseok grins. “Hey, Jongin,” Minseok says. “How do you feel about working on a commission piece with me?”
next ➞