in which ji changmin falls for a portrait of a boy with a bright red rose pin on his jacket.
or
in which choi chanhee gets his picture drawn every year at the university art fair
highest rankings:
#1 in nyukyu
#1 in kyunyu
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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱 : 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 ❝ we can be more in love together. ❞ ⁻ ʳᵒʸ ᵏⁱᵐ ⁻
ᵕ̈♡˳೫˚∗
contrary to the dreary feelings chanhee had in his heart, the day was bright and warm, so much so that the boy felt irritated, shielding his eyes from the rays of sun.
the day had come for him to pay his respects to the people that had raised him into who he was and every year, he avoided the processions and the ceremonies his family held, knowing full well that the thoughts and feelings they harboured for him was nothing close to affection.
he stood outside the hall, nervously fidgeting and tightening the grip his mask had over his nose, slowly being overwhelmed by thoughts of how perhaps it was a mistake to be there.
but he felt a comforting warm hand take a hold of his and looked sideways to see ji changmin smiling gently at him. he didn't know what it was about the dancer but everything about him offered chanhee with a peacefulness he thought was only within his reach in his dreams.
with a sigh and a squeeze of changmin's hand, chanhee entered. the second he did, all eyes fell onto him as though they were waiting for the day he would return and fall right back into their grasps.
"you finally showed up," his aunt said, lacing her voice with concern when her expression told an entirely different story. "we thought you had joined your mother you murderer."
murderer.
that was a name he had so often been called back in his childhood days, his grip on changmins' hand instinctively tightening the second he heard that title being thrown at him once more.
"and he has the audacity to show-off to the dead that he has a boytoy now. how polite!" his other aunt's voice rang in his ears, every word pricking his skin and leaving invisible marks that refused to go away.
he heard a scoff as his uncle stood up, towering over him and changmin as he folded his arms. "choi chanhee, you've always been a disgrace to this family-"
"why're you tossing such words and insults to chanhee? i don't think you're paying respect to the deceased by picking fights unprovoked," changmin said, chanhee's relatives immediately frowning at his intervention. "h-he just wanted to pay his respects."
some of chanhee's older cousins chuckled at changmins' voice cracking while his aunts and uncle rolled their eyes.
chanhee knew he shouldn't have bothered. he knew he shouldn't have tried and yet, it still hurt him knowing that his family had discarded of him the day his mother could no longer shelter him from them.
he felt weak. he felt uneasy. he felt powerless as guilt gnawed on him when deep down he knew that he had nothing to do with her passing.
"i'm sorry chanhee," she had said back then and those same words were again repeated by his grandmother when she died a few years after her on the same day. their words rang in his ears, tears threatening to spill out at the memory.
