ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, Beomjun

027

A week after Beomgyu developed the label 'boyfriend', he's back in his art class painting on a canvas. The room is mainly quiet, conversations whispered and people pinching their brows in concentration as they formulate ideas or bring them to life. Some artwork dries on racks at the back, others sit void of owners as they bustle around the room sharpening pencils or searching for equipment.

He picks up the tube of paint with the sticker labelled, 'green' and squirts out a fresh dollop of paint over the flaky crust that's dried up from previous times, dipping his paintbrush into it. He pauses, biting the side of his lip in concentration and leaning back to gauge where the paint should go to best compliment the lighting of his painting.

As he puts paint to canvas, he listens inconspicuously to the group next to him, deliberating over which colour would compliment the others best, pointedly avoiding asking him like it may pain him to do so. Their eyes flicker over to him before they return to their discussion.

Beomgyu hums as he swipes at his canvas, each brush stroke practiced and precise. Then he steps back and admires it before joining the others, glancing at the painting. One of the people from the group, a girl with short black hair (he can tell by the shade, too intense to be a dark brown or red) and paint on her forearms, glances at him before shifting her gaze.

"I think you should go with your initial thoughts," he tells the boy sitting down, pressing a finger to his chin.

"What was that?" The boy turns around in his chair, curious to hear Beomgyu's views.

"May I?" he asks, gesturing for the piece of paper that has three thin strips of different shades across the very top, so they can be hovered near the painting for comparison." The boy nods and hands him the strip. "From the way I see it, this shade blends the best with the others." He points to the one on the right. "This one might dry too dark, and this one—" he points to the one in the centre— "is already too dark, but the middle one should dry nicely."

Beomgyu passes the strip back to the boy. "That's the one you were originally thinking about using, wasn't it?"

The boy nods, then smiles. "Thanks, Beomgyu."

Beomgyu smiles back. "No problem. Your work is really good, did you start painting young or does it come to you naturally?" He teases, a smile on his face.

It turns out maybe they wanted to have another's opinion but were scared to ask. Beomgyu hasn't been the most sociable in his class in the past, wearing a 'don't approach' expression or too engrossed with his work.

A part of him wonders if talking like this would've always been so easy using his perception of shades to help, rather than scowling over the lack of colour he could see. Maybe him being so miffed is why they never approached him. However, he's glad Yeonjun took the time to teach him, he'd still feel out of touch with it all without him.

"Ah." The guy blushes, a little embarrassed. "My family used to say I was good as a child, but it definitely comes with practice."

The girl from earlier chimes up, Beomgyu feels bad that he doesn't know their names. "That's high praise coming from this one." She laughs, nudging Beomgyu's hip with her own, playful. "Have you seen Beomgyu's artwork? I wouldn't be surprised if I saw it in a museum," she praises, glancing over at his canvas. "You have to tell me where you got those brushes, I've never seen such precision."

Beomgyu flushes, face growing warm. He shifts, embarrassed by the obvious tell on his cheek. "My boyfriend got me them," he says while scratching his head, and he definitely didn't use the word boyfriend as an inadvertent brag.

He likes bragging about Yeonjun, being able to call him his boyfriend still causes his heart to palpate. Beomgyu doesn't know if it'll ever stop. "They were a Christmas present."