Work Text:
Minho’s fingers danced over the keyboard, the light of the screen reflecting on his glasses. He reached for his half-empty mug of coffee, taking a long sip as his eyes scanned over what he had written. He frowned when the door opened and Jisung burst into the office.
“I got mail for you,” his assistant announced in a sing-song.
“I’m sure I told you to knock, Sung,” Minho murmured.
He sighed and pouted at the bundle of letters and envelopes as if it had personally offended him.
“I think there’s an invitation from Seungmin for an art exhibition in there,” Jisung said, ignoring Minho’s words and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
“So?”
“He told me to remind you that you promised to show up at one of the exhibitions, finally, and that this time you might actually like the art. The artists seem to be quite promising.”
Minho slumped back into the chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his glasses almost slipping off.
“He also said you should hold back with your criticism after you made one of the artists cry the last time you attended an art show opening.”
“And where is the fun in that if I can’t speak my mind?” Minho grinned. “But fine. When is it?”
Jisung reached for the bundle, flipped through the letters and made a triumphant sound when he found the sleek black envelope with intricate, matte golden patterns.
“It’s this Friday evening. Oh, there’s food and drinks. You know, I clean up nicely,” Jisung said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You could take me as your plus one.”
Minho stared at him. “So you can get your fill of canapes and alcohol?” He shook his head with a smile. “Fine. Just… don’t touch anything. Don’t spill your drink. Don’t—”
“Hey, I’m not a kid, I know how to behave at these events,” Jisung interrupted him.
Minho chuckled. “If you say so. But if you embarrass me, I’ll deny knowing you.”
He appeared at the gallery on Friday evening, a little later than planned, wearing a grey-toned classic Gucci suit with an ivory high-neck shirt, along with some minimal jewellery.
Jisung was already waiting for him.
“You’re late,” his friend whined. “You’re not known for being late. What happened?”
“I had an unexpected call about adding another hotel client,” Minho sighed and straightened his jacket. “They went on and on… But nothing could be done about it…”
“I hope there’s still food,” Jisung grumbled.
Minho rolled his eyes with a grin. “It’s only canapes anyway. Did you intend on stuffing your little quokka cheeks with them?”
Jisung giggled. “Maybe? Anyway, let’s go inside. Seungmin will be happy that you came after all.”
They entered the white-cube gallery of polished concrete and warm white light. Seungmin stood at the front desk, tablet in hand and talking to someone on the phone. He glanced up when he caught sight of Minho and Jisung approaching and gave them a nod in acknowledgement.
A waiter walked by them, stopping briefly so they could accept a glass of champagne. Minho took a sip and let out a hum of approval. He looked around, curious about the setting and the theme. He hadn’t done any research, only skimmed the invitation.
There was quite a crowd already, but he had been late after all. Murmur of voices carried over the vast space, and for some reason, it smelled of lavender. Waiters moved easily among the people, offering canapes and drinks. He caught a glimpse here and there of the photographs, paintings, and sculptures, but didn’t let himself linger too long. He wanted to see and appreciate the art up close.
“You made it.”
Minho turned, giving his friend a warm smile. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
Seungmin grinned. “I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking today. The painter seems very promising. He’s an up-and-coming artist.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
Seungmin’s phone went off again. The program manager let out a sigh. “Business never sleeps,” he grumbled. “Have fun, you two. Thanks for coming.”
Minho lifted two fingers in a small goodbye and finally mingled with the other guests with Jisung close behind. They stopped at a wall with long-exposure night and cyanotype photographs. Some were finished with delicate gold and silver leaf dusting, accentuating light trails and streaks.
“This one is pretty,” Jisung murmured, pointing at a cyanotype print of an overpass with a view of a river.
Minho hummed. The pictures were good, he had to admit that. They were tender, luminous and had that urban touch. He didn’t consider buying any of them, though. He had to see the rest of the exhibition before he made any decisions. But, as usual, he would probably go home empty-handed.
They lingered at more creations, and Jisung tried to snatch as many canapes as he could. Minho just watched him munch away with amusement and didn’t take any for himself. At some point, Jisung bumped into someone he knew, and Minho continued exploring alone.
He passed by a ceramic series, a mixed-media wall piece and textile installations. But nothing really caught his eye or much interest until he saw the oil and watercolour paintings.
Sunflowers in dark spaces with a beautiful play of chiaroscuro, winter hellebores floating in the air with a silver-golden glow radiating from the petals, a half-figure portrait blurred by dragged solvent with charcoal dust falling down the canvas like ash.
But the piece that lured him in the most was the one where most of the wandering people were gathered.
A calm, near-monochrome sea under a long horizon with a stitched red line that ran just a few centimetres below it. It looked random at first, but as Minho stepped closer and his eyes trailed the line, he noticed the quick rise, then the longer, softer falls, repeated across the width from left to right like small, even breaths. Tiny knots punctuated the stitch at regular intervals. The rest of the canvas was quiet, raw linen and soft paint.
Minho’s gaze flicked to the wall label.
Pelagos (Sea Study VIII), HHJ-25
Some guests moved on, but Minho kept standing under the canvas, champagne in hand and examining the art piece.
Someone stepped closer beside him.
Minho glanced at the stranger from the corners of his eyes as he sipped from his glass. He didn’t pay him any further attention; that was reserved for the painting in front of him. He tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
“Not to your liking?” the man next to him asked. Amusement laced his voice.
Minho shrugged. “It’s almost too generous with the empty space. One might say it feels a bit unfinished.”
The stranger chuckled. “Some people like quiet paintings, restraint. I guess you like control.”
Minho’s lips curled upward. “Is it that obvious?”
“What else is there you don’t like about it?”
“I never said I didn’t like it.”
“But you don’t love it either.”
“Love,” Minho repeated. “That’s a big word.”
He took a step towards the canvas and swallowed another sip of his champagne.
“Is it a wave…? Or a heartbeat?” he murmured. “And the knots? Pure decor? A toned-down red or another colour might integrate better.”
“It’s a hook. Some viewers need an entry point.”
“The knots… They bunch here. It looks accidental.”
“Could be pacing, like marking beats. If they were perfectly spaced, people would call it sterile.”
“If the artist pushed the horizon a bit further down, spaced the knots, deepened the values—”
“You’d call it overworked,” the man interrupted him.
Minho couldn’t help but smile. “Possibly.”
The stranger let out a soft giggle. “For someone with so many complaints, you’ve been staring at it for quite a while.”
Minho’s smirk widened. He turned to look at the man, really look at him now. He blinked, eyes widening for a second.
Oh.
He was handsome. Pretty.
Full, rosy lips, an elegant nose, a mole under his eye, a sharp jaw.
The man turned his head, glancing at Minho with a soft smile. Intense, dark brown eyes trailed over Minho’s face, and he felt oddly bare and breathless under his gaze.
Minho cleared his throat and looked away. He emptied his champagne.
“Who’s the artist?”
“Who knows. HHJ. I’m sure if you want to let them know about your feedback, the desk could pass it on,” the man teased.
Minho let out a huffed laugh. “I guess.”
The stranger chuckled. He fully turned to face Minho, tilting his head. Those plump lips widened into a beautiful smile. “Enjoy your evening.”
Minho watched him leave, gaze wandering over the long legs clad in black slacks, black boots clicking over the floor, a tailored blazer hugging a slim waist…
He sighed and fixed his eyes back on the painting. A grin appeared on his face.
Ten minutes later, he told Seungmin he would buy it.
He couldn’t collect it just yet. The exhibition would run for four weeks, and the sold works stayed on the wall until closing. He told himself to be patient.
Work, the gym, runs, and time with friends filled his days. He thought about the pretty stranger now and then, but as meetings and calls piled up, he almost forgot he had bought the painting in the first place. It wasn't until Seungmin called and told him the art was ready to be deinstalled that he remembered.
Since Minho wasn’t a person to easily give up control and preferred doing things himself, he went to the gallery to oversee the pickup and delivery so that it would arrive at his office in excellent condition.
He had paid a good amount of money for it, after all.
“Please, be careful with the stitch detail. It’s fragile,” he commented, watching from the side as two handlers lifted the painting off the wall, wrap and crate standing ready close by.
“I told you, you’d like the art this time,” Seungmin said.
“You were lucky. The artists are quite talented, not gonna lie.”
“How much effort did it take you to admit that just now?” Seungmin teased, and Minho chuckled.
Footsteps came closer and both turned to look who it was. Minho couldn’t hide his surprise at finding the pretty stranger coming towards them, hands in his pockets, a lopsided smile on his face.
“All that critique and you still bought it,” the man said.
“I never said I didn’t like it,” Minho replied. “Do you work here or something?”
Seungmin let out a snort. Minho glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, but turned his attention back to the other man, who ignored his question and walked up to the painting while the handlers wrapped it up.
“One moment,” the man said and crouched, pulling out a needle and raising it to the canvas.
“Hey,” Minho exclaimed. “Don’t touch it.” He looked at Seungmin. “Is he qualified to do that?”
“He’s perfectly qualified,” Seungmin promised, his grin a bit too smug for Minho’s liking.
“A knot lifted,” the stranger explained. “I’m fixing it.”
“How do you know?” Minho asked with a deep frown on his face.
“I put it here.”
Seungmin let out a snicker when Minho’s eyes widened and realisation dawned upon the CEO.
“You’re the artist. HHJ.”
“Only my parents call me that,” the painter joked. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin for everyone else.”
Hyunjin got back up and motioned the handlers to continue packaging the art. He turned to Minho, his smile wide and pretty.
“Thank you for buying it. I hope it will bring you joy, Mr…”
“Lee. Lee Minho,” the CEO answered. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were at the gallery opening?”
“I wanted to hear your real thoughts.”
Seungmin chuckled. “He would have been honest either way.”
Hyunjin shrugged, smiling. “It was entertaining anyway. I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Mr Lee.”
“You, too,” Minho replied.
He wanted to say more, wanted the man to stay longer. But for some reason, his mind blanked, and he could only watch dumbfounded as Hyunjin took his leave after Seungmin handed him some documents.
He kept staring at the painting, now installed on the wide wall across from him in his office, whenever time allowed it. And even during calls, his eyes would drift to it, counting the knots, trailing the ups and downs with his eyes. It calmed him, his breathing. In and out, heartbeat slowing, and he could almost hear the waves swooshing gently along the beach.
He thought of the painter, of Hyunjin. His nonchalance to Minho’s critique. His amusement that he had successfully tricked him and not revealed his identity the first time they had met.
Minho couldn’t shake the man from his thoughts. His interest sure was piqued.
He watched his friends with fondness and slight irritation when they hung out at their favourite bar a while later. Jisung was already drunk, his arm flung around Chan, who couldn’t stop giggling. Seungmin kept pushing Jisung away every time he tried to lean onto him and told him to drink some water.
“A horrible hangover is waiting for you, and you’ll wish you were dead tomorrow,” the man grumbled. “Stop drooling on my shirt, Sung!”
Chan leaned back into the booth, sipping his beer. He glanced at Minho.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“Not quieter than usual.”
“You seem lost in thought. What’s going on in that mind of yours? I hope it’s not work.”
Seungmin perked up at that, a hand plastered to Jisung’s face as the latter tried to kiss his cheek. “It’s that painter.”
Minho shot him a warning look, but it left Seungmin unfazed, of course.
“Painter? What painter?” Chan asked.
Seungmin’s lips pulled into a wide grin. “You haven’t told him about the painter?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Minho said quickly.
The program manager sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Minho bought a painting a while ago.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve seen it.” Chan nodded. “It’s a good painting. I like it. Feels melancholic, but also… calming, in some way. Like white noise. Minho was so proud when he showed it to me.”
Seungmin snickered. “Really? According to Hyunjin, you criticised it a lot.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You talked with him about me?”
“After the first night, he came to me and told me about this guy in his expensive Gucci suit who had some… notes for his art. I knew right away that it was you.”
“He handled it well, though,” Minho muttered.
“Hyunjin? Is that the painter?” Chan asked, and Minho let out a hum in confirmation. “So, is he handsome or why do you keep thinking about him?”
“I never said I did.”
“But it’s the truth,” Seungmin laughed. “I saw the way you looked at him on the pickup day.”
“I was surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect to see him again.”
“Who are we talking about?” Jisung slurred, head resting on the table.
Chan just patted him and made a soft shushing sound.
“He’s single, you know,” Seungmin informed Minho.
His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face neutral. “And why are you telling me that?”
Chan snorted. “You haven’t been on a date in… I don’t know how long. You should give him Hyunjin’s number,” he told Seungmin.
The man shook his head. “I can’t just give out an exhibiting artist’s personal number. But… I could pass on Minho’s and let Hyunjin decide.”
“Just look him up on the internet,” Jisung sighed. “There must be some… info… information on him somewhere…”
“Who says I’m interested in him like that?” Minho grumbled, leaning back and folding his arms. “It was nice talking to him. He’s… easy on the eyes, yes.”
“Easy on the eyes,” Seungmin repeated with a scoff. “He’s gorgeous. You two would look incredible together.”
Chan laughed. “Wow, and that’s coming from Minnie. He’s serious, Minho.”
Seungmin threw a glare at the older man, but his lips twitched into a smile. “Shut up,” he hissed half-heartedly and pulled his boyfriend into a kiss. Chan made a pleased sound.
Minho called a cab for Jisung after they said their goodbyes and made sure the man came home in one piece. Luckily, he had a key to his friend’s apartment and helped him get into bed, and put a trash can next to it, just in case. He prepared a bottle of water and some painkillers and left to get home as well, finally.
A dark penthouse and silence greeted him when he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He shrugged off his jacket and shoes and headed to the kitchen. He switched on one of the under-cabinet lighting and only moments later, he heard little paws dribbling over the tiles.
He smiled as his three cats joined him in the dimly lit kitchen. They rubbed their heads against his calves and made little purring sounds. Minho smiled and crouched down to give each of them some pats and kisses.
“I’m home,” he whispered to them.
He sat on the cold floor and let Soonie, Doongie and Dori climb all over him. He chuckled, watching them trip over each other, and their purrs turned louder.
He pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the digital keyboard, hesitating, but eventually he typed Hwang Hyunjin into the search bar. He quickly found the homepage of an art studio called Clé shared by four artists, with Hyunjin among them.
Soonie rolled up on his lap, and Minho patted his head absentmindedly as he studied the artists’ portfolios. He found the studio’s address and gnawed his lip as he thought about just visiting it.
He snorted, shaking his head. Fuck. Was that stalker behaviour already? He should just ask Seungmin to give Hyunjin his number and wait to see if the painter was even interested in getting to know him.
After contemplating and fighting with himself for another fifteen minutes, Minho sent a quick message to Seungmin.
🐱: could you please give him my number?
🐶: who?
🐱: you know who…….
🐶: hehehehehe
🐶: fine i’ll do it
🐶: you owe me
🐱: why?
🐶: it’s only thanks to me that you met him
Minho rolled his eyes.
🐱: so what do you want
🐶: i’ll think about it
All Minho could do was wait now. He loved to call himself a patient man. But apparently, when it came to Hwang Hyunjin, Minho’s patience went out of the window.
He checked with Seungmin on day two. “Did he get my number?”
“Yes, I gave it to him.”
Minho almost asked again on day four, but stopped himself and instead stared at the painting.
On day six, he drafted another message to Seungmin and deleted it right after.
On day seven, Minho decided to let it go. Hyunjin had no interest in meeting him.
Letting go apparently meant asking Seungmin yet again if he had really given Hyunjin his number when they met at his and Chan’s place for drinks and a round of cards.
“I did,” the man replied. “He didn’t message you?”
Minho blushed, eyebrows furrowed. Chan slapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe he’s just busy,” he tried to comfort Minho.
“I’m busy and I still would have made time to text him,” the CEO grumbled. “He’s clearly not interested.”
And just in that moment, his phone vibrated and a message from an unfamiliar number appeared on his screen. Minho blinked and opened it, his lips curling into a pleased smile as he read it.
hi, this is hyunjin. i wrote and erased twelve texts. can i try lucky number thirteen?
“What are you smiling about?” Chan asked and leaned closer to get a glimpse of the screen.
“Nothing,” Minho replied nonchalantly.
Seungmin narrowed his eyes at him. “You can try to hide, but you look way too smug.”
Minho looked at him, then at Chan. He grinned. “He texted me.”
“Hyunjin?” Chan asked, eyes going wide.
“All the whining helped then,” Seungmin teased.
“I didn’t whine.”
“You were pretty close to.”
“You two going out then?” Chan wanted to know.
Minho hummed. “I haven’t replied to him yet since you two won’t stop bothering me.”
“Where are you gonna take him? That new sushi restaurant finally opened,” Chan suggested.
“Come on, text him back!” Seungmin urged.
“Both of you shut up!” Minho exclaimed, and his friends snickered, but at last kept silent, glancing at each other with mischievous grins.
thirteen was worth the wait. are you free on friday? wine bar?
“Hm, wine bar?” Seungmin murmured, chin resting on Minho’s shoulder as he read the message. “Could be cosy.”
“It’s a good wine bar,” Minho said.
His phone vibrated again. Hyunjin seemed eager to reply. It made Minho smile even wider.
friday is perfect. 7 pm? send me the address, i’ll meet you there
Usually, days went by way too fast. But now, they seemed to drag. The only thing keeping him sane till the date was Hyunjin sending him messages, just little snippets of his daily life, and Minho loved it. He told him about his cats and, upon Hyunjin’s request, sent several pictures of them. The painter showed his cuteness-aggression by sending a string of keyboard-smashed letters and several emojis, and said he definitely had to meet them. Cute.
Thinking about having Hyunjin over at his place… They weren’t there yet. But Minho liked the thought of it. First, the wine bar date. Then they’d see where to go from there.
His heart fluttered when he saw the painter waiting for him in front of the wine bar. He had his hair up in a ponytail and wore a blazer and a white shirt beneath, with a long silver necklace. Several rings decorated his slender fingers, and his nails were painted black, just like the slacks framing his long legs and the pair of laced boots.
Minho swallowed. He stood there, just taking him in for a moment. He straightened his jacket and smoothed down his dress shirt and approached the young man. Hyunjin turned, and a beautiful smile bloomed on his face. Minho forgot to breathe for a moment.
He could never let his friends know how down bad he already was. He would never hear the end of it.
“Minho.” Hyunjin gave him a shy wave.
“Hey, did you find the place okay?”
Hyunjin nodded. “Yeah. Have you been here before?”
“A few times,” Minho confirmed. “It’s cosy. Classic.”
“Sounds good,” Hyunjin replied.
They smiled at each other, and Hyunjin ducked his head as Minho gently rested a hand on his lower back and guided him inside. Warm wood, leather stools and candles greeted them. They were led to a small round table in one of the corners. Soft jazz music played in the background.
Hyunjin asked Minho to choose for them as he looked around curiously. He ordered a house wine and a cheese board, prosciutto and some simple tomato bruschetta to go with it.
“How are you? How was your day?” Minho asked when they were finally alone.
“It was good,” Hyunjin replied. “I got a new commission, so I mostly worked on that today.”
“That’s really great. You work at a private studio?”
Minho knew the answer, of course, but he couldn’t admit just yet that he had looked Hyunjin up.
“I share a studio with three of my friends. Did you see the photographs at the exhibition? Felix took and edited them.”
“I liked them. But your paintings stuck with me the most.”
Hyunjin grinned at him, lopsided. “Because you saw all the flaws?”
Minho shook his head, huffing a soft laugh. “No. They show so much… raw emotion.”
Hyunjin gazed at him, his smile softening. He nodded, ducking his head once more. Minho thought he was so endearing, and hot, and gorgeous…
“How come you wrote twelve messages and didn’t send any of them?”
“Seungmin gave me your business card and I… I kind of freaked out?” Hyunjin let out a nervous giggle. “Why would a CEO of a big company like to get to know me?”
“He gave you my business card?” Minho asked, shaking his head. “I asked him to give you my number and not…” He sighed. “I’m just a normal guy.”
Hyunjin grinned. “A guy who buys a painting for 25k even though he didn’t seem to like it much at first. Very normal.”
Minho chuckled. “I get to look at it every day and… I like it more and more.”
“That’s the first time I sold something for that amount. I was… overwhelmed, to be honest. I’m still a bit baffled. Also, that you actually wanted to go out with me.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I liked your brain and your work. I enjoyed our little banter. You’re interesting, and you know it.”
“Do I now?” Hyunjin murmured and leaned forward, lips still pulled into that pretty smile.
“I was nervous you wouldn’t text.”
The painter looked taken aback by that. “Why? Why would you be nervous?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Minho asked, tilting his head. “You’re gorgeous. You’re smart and talented. You probably get hit on all the time.”
Hyunjin blushed, but his smile didn’t fade. “Some ask me out. Most of them only want to get me into bed.”
Minho blinked.
The painter leaned closer, reaching out to trail a finger over Minho’s hand. “But I don’t put out until the third date, so a lot lose interest quickly.”
Minho’s throat bobbed. “Oh. That’s their loss. And my gain.”
Hyunjin giggled. The sound was addictive.
“What about you, though? You look more like a movie star than a big shot CEO. You must have people lined up to go out with you.”
Minho shook his head, smiling. “It’s not like that. I actually haven't dated in a while. After my last break-up, I threw myself into my job, my friends, my cats…” He chuckled. “Guess it was a good choice.”
Hyunjin bit into his lower lip as Minho’s eyes trailed over his face.
“You wrote back quickly,” he murmured.
Minho brushed his hand over Hyunjin’s, played with his lithe fingers, with his rings. “I didn’t want to waste any time getting to know you…”
The wine and small plates of food arrived. They shared stories about friends and family, touching hands and bumping feet without thinking. Hyunjin said little about his parents, and Minho didn’t press, realising it was a delicate subject and was better left untouched during their first date.
“So, what exactly do you do as a CEO for boutique hospitality?”
Minho took a sip of his wine and put down the glass gently. “Simply said, I run the company. We manage upscale hotels for owners. I hire people, keep investors and clients happy, and solve issues among employees. I take care of the funding and the brand. Once or twice a year, I visit the properties with a compact checklist.”
“So I guess you have a lot of meetings, video calls, phone calls…?”
Minho chuckled. “Yeah. It sounds… dry. But it’s a good job. Stressful sometimes, but I can’t complain.”
Hyunjin tilted his head, smiling. “That’s a good thing. Doing something you like. Or at least doesn’t torture you.” They chuckled. “How are your furbabies doing?”
They went back to gushing over cat photos, and Hyunjin showed Minho pictures of his dog, who lived with his parents. He also introduced some of his friends’ art pieces to him. Minho had seen some of them already on the homepage’s portfolio.
He already knew Felix's long exposure photographs. Changbin created beautiful, otherworldly sculptures, and Jeongin worked on a comic about eight boys who could turn into animals.
He was impressed, but nothing kept him as captivated as Hyunjin’s paintings.
They talked about how Hyunjin loved poetry and tried his hand at pottery. Minho told him about his morning runs, that his guilty pleasure was puddings, and that he loved to dance.
Their fingers constantly brushed, and Hyunjin bit his lip whenever Minho’s foot trailed up his calf.
Time flew by fast, and before they knew it, the waiter came and told them the bar was closing. Minho reached for the check before Hyunjin could snatch it.
They walked down the street together, side by side, shoulders brushing. Minho itched to take Hyunjin’s hand. He nudged it with his pinky, and Hyunjin giggled, holding out his palm, and the CEO intertwined their fingers with a sigh of relief.
He wanted to kiss him. Badly. He was sure he would feel restless if he didn’t get to taste Hyunjin’s lips tonight.
They waited for Hyunjin’s cab to arrive. They lived in opposite directions, which meant they couldn’t share, and their time was cut shorter.
Hyunjin opened the door of the car, hesitating. “I had fun tonight. Thank you.”
Minho smiled. He reached forward to tug a strand of hair behind Hyunjin’s ear and brushed his knuckles over the painter’s cheek. “Me, too. Let’s do it again?”
“Soon?” Hyunjin asked, sounding hopeful.
“Very soon.”
The painter beamed at him, and Minho’s heart fluttered uncontrollably. He stepped forward, hesitating only for a split second, and then brushed their lips together once, lingering for a heartbeat before parting. They searched each other’s eyes, breathless after only a fleeting touch of their lips, then leaned in again. The kisses came in starts and stops, the hesitation fading.
“I’ll call you,” Minho whispered against Hyunjin’s mouth.
Hyunjin nodded, licking his lips, a beautiful blush decorating his cheeks. He got into the cab, and Minho watched it drive away until it disappeared around a corner.
His heart was pounding in his chest, and he couldn’t stop smiling and touching his lips all the way back home. Hyunjin sent him a quick message, telling him he had arrived safe and sound and wished him a good night.
Minho barely slept that night, his heart unable to calm down.
His friends nagged him about information. Minho told them enough to make them shut up.
They talked almost every day. Hyunjin asked him to come by the studio sometime, and Minho eagerly agreed. He couldn’t wait to see him again. Hopefully, he’d get to kiss him again, too.
The art studio occupied a floor in a mixed-use building, reached by a rattling freight elevator and wide, echoing corridors. Large sliding doors parted the studio from the rest. Morning sun spilt through tall windows, filling the space with light. The air held the mingled scents of paint, coffee and clay. On one side stood an ash-grey sculpture akin to an angel — its form bound in fabric and wire. Nearby, a drafting table waited, a sheet of paper spread across it with rough panel sketches scattered in pencil lines.
Hyunjin stood behind one of the easels. He looked up from the big canvas in front of him, a bright smile appearing on his face. His hair was pulled back, and some streaks of paint were smeared over his cheek, nose and fingers. He wore a loose white shirt, sprinkled with colours sprayed from his brush.
Another young man with long blond hair stood in the small kitchenette at the far end of the studio, pouring coffee into mugs and giving Minho a curious glance.
“Minho!” Hyunjin called out and grabbed a cloth to wipe his hands.
He rushed towards the CEO and was about to hug him, but stopped in the last moment.
“I’m dirty,” Hyunjin said, gazing down at his shirt, offering a sheepish smile.
“I don’t care,” Minho replied and pulled him into his arms and kissed his neck.
Hyunijn melted against him, fingers curling into his back. “You smell good,” he whispered.
“You smell of paint,” Minho murmured, which earned him a chuckle.
Hyunjin pulled back, a broad, warm smile on his unfairly pink and plump lips, which Minho yearned to taste again. He linked their fingers and tugged him further into the studio.
“Meet Felix. He’s my best friend,” Hyunjin said and waved at the blond man coming towards them with two steaming mugs.
“Hi,” he greeted Minho with a friendly smile. “I just made coffee. Would you like one?”
Hyunjin immediately took the mugs off his hands and gave one to Minho without waiting for a reply. Minho accepted it with a quiet thank you.
“Thanks, Lix. Minho said he liked your photographs at the exhibition.”
“You did? Thank you,” Felix said, beaming. “So you’re Minho. Hyunjin can’t shut up about you.”
Minho grinned, glancing at Hyunjin, who blushed deeply and let out a gasp.
“Lixie!”
The photographer grinned. “You seem to be making our Hyunjinnie very happy.”
“I hope I am,” Minho said, giving Hyunjin’s hand a gentle squeeze. “And I wish to continue making him happy since I intend to keep him.”
Hyunjin blinked at him, surprised, but surely pleased. He flushed even more, but his smile widened as he lowered his head.
He didn’t know why he felt so close to Hyunjin already, why he was falling so hard. They just understood each other so well. Minho didn’t even want or need to make sense of it. His feelings, his heart had chosen.
Felix’s smile warmed. “I sure hope so. You’re cute. I’ll finish some stuff over there before I have to go. I hope we can talk again soon and get to know each other better.”
Minho nodded. “I hope so, too.”
Hyunjin led Minho along to his easel with a half-finished painting of a salt-grey sea sitting on it. Hyunjin took the canvas and gently leaned it against the wall, only to grab a smaller one.
“You try.”
Minho blinked. “What?”
“Paint something,” Hyunjin said and held out an unused brush to Minho.
“I… I don’t paint. I don’t know how.”
Hyunjin smiled. “Everyone can paint. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just try it.”
Minho took the brush tentatively and dipped it into some deep red, already waiting on a palette nearby. He glanced at Hyunjin again, gnawing his lip, hesitating as he raised the brush.
“I’ll ruin he canvas.”
“Nonsense.”
Hyunjin stood behind him and gently wrapped his hand around Minho’s. He wondered if Hyunjin could feel his heart pounding through his back against his chest. The painter guided his hand briefly, just a slow, long stroke over the blank space.
“There,” Hyunjin murmured, his breath tickling Minho’s nape. “It’s a start. No need to be afraid anymore.”
Minho nodded, and Hyunjin let go. He did a few more strokes, added another colour, and let himself sink into the process. He was definitely not talented, but he was glad Hyunjin had made him try.
There was a click of a camera, and they both looked up to see Felix taking a picture of them.
“Don’t mind me,” the blond said, clicking away once again. “You look so good together.”
Hyunjin let out a grumble and leaned forward to rest his head on Minho’s shoulder. The CEO chuckled and slightly turned his head to kiss Hyunjin’s temple.
Felix lowered the camera, a soft smile on his lips. A cloud passed the sun, and the light flooded the studio once more, brightening the freckles on the photographer’s face.
“I have an appointment, and then I’ll meet with Binnie. I guess you won’t come to movie night?”
Hyunjin shrugged. “I don’t know yet what we might be up to.”
Felix’s grin turned mischievous. “Of course. Have fun!”
He grabbed his bag and carefully stored his camera inside before sliding open the heavy door and closing it again behind himself.
“Alone at last,” Hyunjin whispered and giggled. “Do you mind if I paint a bit more? I’ll feel restless if I don’t finish the light scattered over the sea…”
“I don’t mind at all. I’d love to watch you work.”
“You’re adorable,” Hyunjin murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Minho’s cheek.
He glanced back at the canvas marked with Minho’s uneven strokes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll keep it.”
Minho flushed, but didn’t argue. The thought of Hyunijn looking at it again — remembering this moment — made his heart race a little more.
Hyunjin switched the canvases, pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and began to work.
Minho watched the brush glide over the canvas, each flick of Hyunjin’s wrist precise and hypnotic. He looked so beautiful like this, right in his element, creating something new and raw.
After a while, he stepped closer, his hands finding Hyunjin’s slim waist. The painter’s breath caught, but he didn’t pull away.
Minho pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Hyunjin’s neck where his shirt had slipped loose. A quiet hum escaped Hyunjin as he leaned back into him, the brush lowering slightly but not stopping its path.
Minho’s palms traced upward, following the line of his ribs until they spread over his chest. Hyunjin exhaled shakily when Minho’s thumbs brushed across his nipples, hardening beneath the touch. Minho lingered there, rubbing slowly, while his mouth left soft, lingering kisses along Hyunjin’s shoulder and the curve of his nape.
“Minho,” Hyunjin whispered.
“Tell me to stop,” Minho murmured.
“I don’t want you to, that’s the problem…”
Minho smiled. “Why is that a problem?”
Hyunjin lowered his brush and turned in Minho’s arms. He kissed him, unhurried and deep. They were both flushed when they parted.
“I want to do this right. With you,” Hyunjin said. “I tend to fall too fast…”
“I’ll catch you,” Minho promised. “I’ll always catch you, Hyunjinnie… I meant what I said before. I want to keep you. And you’re not the only one falling…”
Hyunjin just stared at him for a breathless moment, close enough so Minho could still feel the ghost of his lips against his. The brush cluttered to the floor, and Hyunjin kissed him, tugging him closer with a need that erased any doubt and hesitation.
Their mouths moved together, unsteady but eager, harsh breaths escaping between tongues and teeth. Hyunjin steered him slowly across the other side of the room, lips never leaving his. They sank into the worn leather couch in the corner, the world outside the studio blurring away.
Hyunjin climbed on top of Minho, one hand curled into the CEO’s shirt, the other slipping into his hair. Their kisses grew even deeper, slower, drawn out like they had all the time in the world.
Hyunjin looked beautiful above him, lips red and chest heaving from their kisses. Minho raised his hand to cup Hyunjin’s cheek, and the painter smiled at him with so much affection that Minho’s heart tripped.
The painter opened Minho’s belt and trousers and pulled out his hardened cock. Minho gasped when he took him into his mouth. Broken moans and whispers fell from his lips, his fingers finding purchase in Hyunjin’s silky hair. He wondered if Hyunjin had no gag reflex as he relaxed his throat, swallowing him even deeper, and hollowing his cheeks.
It didn’t take long for Minho to reach his peak, and he involuntarily bucked his hips as he came down Hyunjin’s throat. The painter didn’t seem to mind. Hyunjin pulled away, smiling at the CEO.
“Fuck, Hyunjinnie,” Minho breathed out. “That was…”
“Good?”
“More than good.”
Hyunjin giggled, cheeks pink. He reached for the tissues on the small coffee table and cleaned Minho up before pulling him into a kiss, and Minho didn’t even mind tasting a bit of himself on Hyunjin’s tongue.
“Let me return the favour,” Minho said, but Hyunjin shook his head.
“Another time, baby. This was just me… being grateful for you.”
Minho flushed at the pet name. “But I’m grateful for you, too.”
Hyunjin kissed him again, face cradled between his hands. “Two more dates and you can show me exactly how grateful you are.”
Minho licked his lips; his spent cock twitched. “Oh, I will…”
After Hyunjin changed into some clothes without any paint stains, he and Minho went to get some lunch at a nearby café. They ate sandwiches and salad, shared a slice of cake and took a stroll along the river. Since Minho still had a meeting in the late afternoon, he accompanied Hyunjin back to the art studio and reluctantly said goodbye.
The second date was only a few days later. They went to the movies and picked one that turned out to be terrible. Hyunjin had to press a hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing when Minho began muttering sarcastic commentaries under his breath. They shared popcorn, their fingers brushing more than once, each time more deliberate than the one before.
They left the theatre, both laughing and groaning.
“I owe you an actually good movie next time,” Hyunjin whined. “I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”
Minho wrapped his arm around Hyunjin’s waist, pulling him closer. “I wouldn’t say no to a kiss to make up for it.”
Hyunjin chuckled. He grasped Minho’s chin and turned his head to press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, just enough to make Minho chase for more.
They wandered through quieter streets, fingers linked. They talked about everything and nothing — dream projects, childhood stories, quirks. Hyunjin occasionally stopped to take a picture of graffiti on some wall, a flowerpot placed in front of a shop, neon signs and fairy lights installed over doors and windows. The painter found inspiration in everything and pointed out things to Minho that he would never notice alone. Hyunjin taught him how to look at the world with different eyes.
They stopped at a bookstore that was still open and browsed through some second-hand books with worn spines and dog-eared pages, and after Hyunjin bought a few about poetry, growth and love, Minho pulled him along to a hotel.
“It’s only the second date, Mr CEO. No sex,” Hyunjin teased, although he couldn’t help but bite his lip, and Minho gave him a crooked grin.
“We’re not here for that.”
Minho led him up to the rooftop (“CEO perks”) and they leaned on the railing, sipping from the coffees they had picked up on the way, and watched the bustling city spread out around them and its shimmering lights.
Minho never made time for things like this. Not for himself alone. He always thought it would be a waste of time. But with Hyunjin…
“What is it with you that I feel like this?” Hyunjin whispered, resting his head on his arms crossed over the railing. “We click so well…”
“I know,” Minho murmured. “I know… It’s the same for me. Time means nothing with you, Hyunjinnie. Weeks with you have done what years with others never did...”
Hyunjin smiled. “You’re such a romantic…”
“Only with you. You bring it out in me.”
They kissed, framed by the city skyline. They left the rooftop hand in hand, joking again about the worst scenes from the film, but with a softer undertone.
“Where do you live?” Hyunjin asked, the breeze tousling his hair. “My apartment is all the other way across town…”
“Just about ten minutes from here with a taxi. Why are you asking?”
Hyunjin pulled him closer and whispered into his ear, “I can’t wait any longer, Minho.”
Minho stopped in his tracks. He blinked at the younger man. “Do you mean…?”
“I know what I said twenty minutes ago, but… Yes. Sex.” Hyunjin laughed softly.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Don’t you want me, Mr Lee?” the painter asked, trailing a finger over Minho’s chest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
Minho exhaled a sharp breath. He curled his hand around Hyunjin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, messy and deep. “You can’t imagine how much I want you…”
They waved down a taxi, barely being able to keep their hands off each other, but not really wanting to give the driver a show. When they stepped out of the elevator into Minho’s penthouse, Hyunjin paused, shrugging off his jacket as his eyes wandered in quiet awe.
Minho switched on a soft light and watched him move slowly through the living room, stopping at each piece of art and photography on the walls. It didn’t take long for the cats to appear, lingering in the hallway with curious eyes and twitching noses.
“Oh my god,” Hyunjin cooed, crouching to hold out a hand. He made soft pspsps sounds, trying to coax them closer.
Minho chuckled, heading to the kitchen. He returned with treats from a drawer and handed one over. Hyunjin let out a delighted squeal when the three cats finally padded closer, mewling as they pressed their heads against his hands and knees.
“They’re so cute,” Hyunjin murmured, stroking Doongie’s orange fur with gentle fingers.
Minho only watched, his chest swelling with affection at the sight. When Hyunjin finally looked back at him, there was a smile on his lips before he leaned in for a deep kiss.
“Where’s the bedroom?” he asked softly.
Minho’s answer was to take his hand and guide him down the hallway.
“I’ll see you later,” Hyunjin said to the little furbabies as he followed.
Minho pressed Hyunjin against the door the moment it clicked shut, teeth grazing at his neck before their mouths met in a desperate, hungry kiss. His fingers tangled in Hyunjin’s hair, pulling him closer until they were lost in the heat of it. Clothes fell away quickly, hands roaming across bare skin, skimming collarbones and navels, learning every curve.
When Minho reached for the drawer, Hyunjin snatched the lube and condoms from his hand with a smirk. He pushed Minho toward the bed, urging him down flat before straddling him. A soft moan slipped from his lips as Minho’s hands found his chest, squeezing it, and rubbed his hard nipples with his thumbs. Hyunjin’s hair fell over his face in a beautiful, tangled mess, framing his flushed face as he looked down on Minho.
He bit his lip, smiled, then caught Minho’s wrists, guiding them to his narrow waist. Minho’s palms flexed, almost trembling, the sight of his hands spread over the fragile span driving him wild.
Hyunjin was all lean muscles and soft skin, decorated with a pretty mole here and there.
He prepped himself with slow, practised movements, ignoring Minho’s restless fidgeting.
“You’re not in control here,” he whispered, catching Minho’s bottom lip gently between his teeth. “Just lie there and be pretty.”
It took every ounce of restraint, but Minho obeyed, keeping his hands on Hyunjin’s hips. He let them wander in slow sweeps, thumb brushing along the sharp line of a vein trailing from a hipbone downward. He ached with want.
Fortunately, Hyunjin soon sank on his cock, rocking his hips up and down in sensual movements.
And as Hyunjin moved above him — black-painted nails pressing into his chest, lips red and parted with soft, unbroken moans, neon lights from the street casting colours over his sweat-slick skin — Minho thought that Hyunjin was art himself.
He was art, alive and untouchable, the kind no black card could ever buy. And Minho knew he would keep him close, not as something owned, but as someone to cherish and admire in every way he deserved.
Minho reached up, brushed a thumb over Hyunjin’s chin and slipped it between his parted lips. Hyunjin let out a lewd moan and closed his mouth around the digit, sucking sharply on it, his movements never stopping.
There was a meow outside the door, and Hyunjin let out a laugh. Minho couldn’t help but chuckle as well.
“Do they usually sleep in here?” Hyunjin asked, breathless.
“No, not anymore. I stopped that a while ago,” Minho murmured, finger trailing over Hyunjin’s throbbing cock, and the painter gasped loudly. “It might sound cosy at first to be caged in by three cats, but that means you can’t move anymore, and the more I realise I can’t move, the more I want to… And they’re little heaters…”
Hyunjin giggled and leaned down to lick into Minho’s mouth.
After a while, Minho noticed Hyunjin’s thighs tremble. He asked him to get on his back, and Hyunjin complied, his chest heaving as he stretched on the bed. Minho stared at him for a moment, gaze trailing over the muscles flexing in Hyunjin’s abdomen, the perky nipples, the parted lips and half-lidded eyes.
“Fuck,” he murmured and eagerly settled between his legs, spread them wider, and poured some more lube on his cock.
He guided it back into Hyunjin, and the painter let out a long sigh, fingers twisting into the pillow. His soft ahs and mhs soon turned into full-blown moans. Minho loved how loud Hyunjin could get.
Hyunjin’s orgasm washed over him, and the painter arched his back off the bed with a pleasured cry. Minho followed right after. He bent forward, resting his forehead against Hyunjin’s sternum to catch his breath for a moment. He slipped out and lay beside him, blankly staring up at the ceiling.
Hyunjin let out a chuckle.
“What?” Minho asked.
“Just…” Hyunjin looked at him, a smile on his face, eyes sparkling. “I’m happy.”
Minho’s lips curled upwards. “Me, too…,” he whispered.
Hyunjin shifted closer, and Minho wrapped his arm around his waist. They didn’t bother cleaning up just yet and fell asleep. Minho hadn’t slept so well in a long time.
When he woke up in the morning, Hyunjin was just leaving the adjoining bathroom, wearing nothing but one of Minho’s shirts. Needless to say, the CEO pulled him right back into bed and fucked him senseless once more.
They had breakfast. Hyunjin cuddled with the cats, and they spent the rest of the day together. Mostly in bed. Or on the couch. Bent over a table and a kitchen counter.
Hyunjin played the sound file to him of the ocean wave he had recorded at a real shore for his painting and visualised in stitches and knots. Minho listened to it over and over again with Hyunjin curled up next to him.
The painter visited him at his office a few days later. He assessed his painting hanging on the wall, tipping a finger against his chin.
“Good lighting,” he murmured. “Why here, though, and not at home?”
“Here, I can look at it every day when I need it,” Minho said from where he was sitting at his desk, learning back in his chair. “Chan called it white noise. I have to agree. It’s calming.”
“Chan?” Hyunjin asked. “Seungmin’s boyfriend?”
“Yup,” Minho replied. “We should all hang out sometime. Maybe you can bring your friends along.”
Hyunjin smiled. “I’d love that.”
He walked over to Minho, swaying his hips, and made himself comfortable on the CEO’s lap. Minho’s hands came to splay over Hyunjin’s ass, squeezing it, and Hyunjin grinned.
They kissed once, slow and tentative. Hyunjin pulled back, studying him.
Minho murmured, “Again.”
They shared another kiss, and Minho kept whispering for more, to which Hyunjin happily obliged.
“You’re dangerous,” Minho whispered.
Hyunjin shrugged with a smile. He lifted the glasses from Minho’s face and perched them on his own nose.
Minho’s eyes darkened at the sight, and he growled, “You look too good in those. Take them off before I forget myself.”
Hyunjin grinned at him and wrapped his arms loosely around Minho’s neck. “You should let me ride you. Right here. Right now. In your office.”
“Jisung might hear,” Minho said, not even declining the offer.
“I’ll be quiet.”
“We both know that’s a lie.”
Hyunjin laughed. He moved his hips, slowly, and Minho was gone. He guided his rhythm with his hands locked around his waist after Hyunjin was prepped and stretched open on his cock.
“Look at the painting while I ride you so you don’t only associate it with meetings,” Hyunjin teased him and whispered more filth into his ear.
Of course, Jisung made some jokes after Hyunjin left. But Minho just smiled, happy and satisfied. He was a bit worried, though, that he’d pop a boner now whenever he looked at the painting.
Several weeks later, after countless dates and after Hyunjin had called Minho his boyfriend in front of his friends, Minho invited him on a trip. At first, Hyunjin resisted, insisting he didn’t need to be spoiled and wanting to share the cost.
It was something that happened occasionally, and Minho made sure Hyunjin never felt inadequate and let him pay as well without arguing.
But this time, he didn’t budge.
“I want to spoil you,” Minho told him gently. “You deserve it. Let me, please. You can pay next time.”
In the end, Hyunjin agreed, and they set off together for a nearby city where one of Minho’s hotels was located. It was one of his favourites — luxurious yet welcoming, not too large, and undeniably beautiful.
They strolled around the city, spent time at the pool, enjoyed a spa day and often lazed in bed to have sex and cuddle.
Minho’s finger trailed over each bump of a rib and came to circle a peeked nipple. Hyunjin breathed out shakily.
“Your parents don’t like what you do?”
Hyunjin offered a soft smile. “They don’t work against me. But they don’t exactly approve.”
“But you’re doing so well with your art…”
The smile saddened. “I guess they just didn’t believe I could do it…”
Minho brushed a kiss over Hyunjin’s sternum. His lips wandered further up to suck a bruise just above the painter’s collarbone. Hyunjin let out a soft hum, slightly writhing under him.
“You proved them wrong,” he whispered, planting more kisses on Hyunjin’s skin. “I look forward to your next exhibition. I need to buy another one of your paintings.”
“I could just paint you one and give it to you.”
“I’d love anything you paint for me, free or not,” Minho said. “But you’ve worked too hard just to give any painting away. Please let me honour that by paying what it’s worth. That way, every time I see it, I’ll know I’m not just lucky, but that I was smart enough to invest in something priceless.”
Hyunjin gazed at him. There was a shimmer in Hyunijn’s eyes, too raw to be only a trick of the light.
He cupped Minho’s face and kissed him softly. His lips brushed against him as he whispered, “You make me feel like what I do matters… Like I matter. I can’t tell you how much that means…”
“You matter,” Minho promised. “You matter more than anything. And I love your art.” He grasped Hyunjin’s hand gently and brushed kisses over each tip of his fingers.
Hyunjin smiled. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Love? But that’s such a big word…”
Minho laughed softly. “It’s not big enough…,” he whispered. “Not big enough to explain the way I feel about you…”
Hyunjin stared at him, cheeks turning pink.
“Does that scare you?”
The painter shook his head. “No… No, it doesn’t.”
Minho leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. “Good,” he murmured against Hyunjin’s mouth and kissed him again. “I intend to tell you every day…”
Hyunjin gazed at him, lower lip caught between his teeth. “Tell me what…?”
“How much I love you…,” Minho murmured.
Hyunjin smiled at him, bright, precious and beautiful. “I love you, too.” He giggled. “I think my heart is going to burst.”
Minho released a breathless laugh. He took Hyunjin’s hand and guided it to his chest, letting him feel the frantic rhythm beneath.
Hyunjin gnawed his lip and sprawled over Minho, resting his ear right where his heart was with a soft sigh, and closed his eyes.
“I'll stitch this into my next canvas…”
Minho tightened his arm around his boyfriend. He had never understood why people fell in love so fast, but then he had met Hyunjin. It didn’t need to make sense. It just had to feel right.
He didn’t want to imagine a life without him. It wouldn’t be the same anymore without his laughter and kisses, his voice and his gentleness, his scent of paint and coffee.
“We should get married,” Minho said, absentmindedly, almost, fingers trailing over Hyunjin’s spine.
Hyunjin chuckled. “Yeah, we should.”
Minho smiled.
He had never expected to fall in love with a stranger he had met in a gallery, but that was the beauty of it. What had begun with a red thread stitched through a canvas now felt like fate itself — a connection had sparked between them, pure and unforced, as if it had always meant to be.