He hurried through the corridors of his university, weaving through students heading to their respective classrooms, his arm securely holding his painting against his body to avoid any damage in the crowded hallways. Finally reaching his classroom, he took his usual seat in the center of the amphitheater. Though he rarely had theory classes here, spending most of the year in workshops for practical work, today was different.
His class seemed to drag on so slowly that he wondered if the slender second-hand needle was mocking him, taking its sweet time to painfully complete a full minute. Before the bell even rang, he stood up, heading towards his professor with a canvas under his arm.
It was time to show what he was made of, to reveal the artist within him—Jeon Jungkook. Fueled by frustration from the previous day, he had spent the entire day and night perfecting his canvas. Placing it on a chair near Mr. Kim's desk, a proud expression adorned his face.
The painting depicted a starry night as seen from Jungkook's window, showcasing the beauty and precision of the young student's brushstrokes.
- So? Impressive? I worked on what you asked. The dull blue sky for sadness, the night for melancholy, the stars for dreams, and—
- You haven't understood, my dear. Tell me, where do you get all this? Who told you that dull blue represents sadness? Who said the night is melancholic?
Jungkook looked perplexed, not understanding where his professor was leading.
- Everyone knows it, it's everywhere, in books, poems, movies—
- No! I don't want to know what books say; I want to know what you say. Your painting is empty, Jungkook. What did you feel when you looked at that night sky?
What did he feel? Well, nothing particularly impressive. He struggled to comprehend how a night could be melancholic or how stars could symbolize dreams. It was just the night and stars; they were visible every day. What was so poetic about pure logic? He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He had read all possible books on the subject and followed the rules; he had conveyed the emotion. His expression, slowly turning into a scowl, made his professor chuckle, patting his shoulder gently. The old man had rarely seen talents as significant as Jungkook's, but also rarely encountered such ignorance.
- You see? You don't know. And that's the problem.
- I know! Very well!
The old man sighed, acknowledging his stubborn student.
- I feel nothing, sir. I don't understand what I'm supposed to paint if nothing comes to my mind. The sky is just the sky, whether it's blue, black, or starry! It's just the atmosphere; there's nothing to say about it!
A moment of silence followed, Jungkook's cry echoing in the now-empty room for quite some time.
- You think you see, Jungkook, but you are completely blind. You may have hands that can create gold, but if you can't see it, how do you know if what you touch is gold or heavy metal?
He turned slowly to grab his bag, heading towards the exit.
- You should try new things, things you don't understand or know. Have fun, my boy; it might help you open your childlike eyes. Those of adults are too old and weary to see the beauty of this world.
Jungkook watched him close the door, leaving him in deafening silence. He disliked being talked to as if he were a child. The concept of "childlike eyes" was illogical to him. He didn't want to change; he wanted to have the eyes of Jeon Jungkook, possess the style of Jeon Jungkook, and paint like Jeon Jungkook. Why were they insisting he should never lose his essence while forcing him to see and feel what he wasn't?
The world was so contradictory; it sometimes drove him mad. Art made him so crazy that he was almost certain to end up like Van Gogh. He lowered his eyes to his canvas, looking at it with an indescribable expression before picking up the scissors on the professor's table. He slid them from the top of the painting to the bottom, splitting his artwork in half. If only he could fix his mediocrity that way. After another sigh, he tremblingly put the scissors back on the table, leaving the room without even turning to look at the result of his efforts lying on the floor like a corpse. Everyone told him he wasn't enough.
Jungkook wasn't the only one restless that day. Jimin had a date. Not just any date, a date with Taehyung, his best friend and crush since forever. His usually expressionless face displayed a mix of excitement and nervousness as he exchanged his usual overalls for more polished attire. After fixing his orange hair for the umpteenth time, he sighed and left his house, grabbing his keys and phone, eagerly descending the stairs. Once in the building's lobby, he immediately recognized Taehyung's sleek black car, and Tae, with a wide grin, greeted him from behind the lowered window.
They hadn't seen each other for a few days. Jimin had to finish a painting, and Tae was on the other side of the country for a photo shoot. But only God knew how quickly the painter would cancel everything if his best friend wanted to see him. Jimin could follow him to the ends of the earth and even farther. He sat beside Tae, on the passenger side, and was immediately attacked by his counterpart, pretending to protest. Taehyung had always loved Jimin's chubby cheeks, claiming they were special, the softest, and that his freckles on his fair skin made them even better.
- So, Chim? What's new since last time?
- We saw each other just a week ago, Tae.
- I know, but I missed you so much. Feels like an eternity!
- You're really insufferable.
Jimin turned to the window, hiding a small smile as the car started. He was so lost in thought that he forgot to ask where they were going. But deep down, even if Taehyung took him to the middle of a volcano, he would agree, as long as they were together. About thirty minutes later, the vehicle stopped in front of a restaurant Jimin easily recognized: it was their usual spot to celebrate important moments in each other's lives. It was their best friends' ritual, and Jimin loved such things. With a big smile on his face, he stepped out of the car, catching up with Taehyung, who was already waiting at the entrance.
Jimin wondered what he could say. Maybe Tae got a promotion? Or wanted to tell him he adopted another puppy? Or was it... something else? He was aware it was wrong to hope like this, to see a sign every time his best friend's hand brushed against his, or when he smiled that peculiar rectangular smile, or when he said Jimin was the most important person in his life. But his heart had belonged to the younger one for years, since their childhood, since the first time Taehyung had caressed his cheek, saying his dimples and freckles made him adorable. They made their way to their usual table, reserved in advance by Tae. Jimin felt his heart beating so hard against his chest that he feared it might leap out and land straight into his plate. He even wondered how Taehyung couldn't hear it, or perhaps he ignored it? His stomach twisted in all directions, fingers fidgeting as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. So many thoughts were swirling in his mind, losing himself completely. But as always, when Jimin couldn't find his way back to reality, he felt Taehyung's hand slipping onto his, and when he looked up, he met his best friend's gaze with his usual gentle smile. Was this the face of a man in love? Would he finally confess that his love was mutual?
- Jimin... I'd like you to meet my girlfriend.
There was the sound of shattering glass. It was Jimin's heart.
YOU ARE READING
IMBER | jikook
Fanfiction"- What do you know about art apart from your little color sheets, hm? I'm a student at the biggest art school in South Korea! - I'm glad I didn't go to college then, if you're the elite."
