Art Gallery ~ minsung

10th March

Jisung's POV

I looked at the table full of photos as I drank some hot coffee, leaning part of my back on the kitchen counter. I decided to put all of the pictures in a dusty brown bag I had forgotten in some corner of my garage. They were more than a hundred, just because I was sure to be utterly bad at taking photos and I had at least six of them for every single one of my works. 

It was still cold as hell, but another sunny day. The wind wasn't blowing too much, which assured me that my hair would be kept in place. I decided to look as good as I could because come on, that man outshined me so much that I was about to become practically invisible. I hoped makeup - and all of the strange beauty treatments I tried the day before - would help me hide away the tiredness and the laziness of my whole self.

I walked up to the bus stop. With no one by my side, I looked hot enough. Apart from that shitty brown bag that weighed more than me and made me walk weirdly, trying to balance myself to keep going. I swear luck had never been on my side. 

As soon as the doors of the elevator opened, I loudly dropped the bag on the floor, exhaling as I looked at the familiar grey walls. I was there, once again, with my half destroyed bag full of printed out pictures. 

Soon, I saw faces peeking from different doors, looking pretty concerned. Their eyes trailed down my figure, confused, and disappeared before judging. 

Finally, I recognised Jeongin between those faces. He smiled widely and walked out the door, coming towards me, his feet making absolutely no sound. I realised everyone in there was silent, I was the only one loud as hell.

"Jisung, how are you?" 

We both bowed lightly, already making a step forward in our bond.

"I guess I'm fine-"

"Jisung."

I looked up and saw him. I had to blink twice to be sure it was him. He wore specs, specs, and they looked fucking beautiful on him.

His voice sounded so amazing. I was pretty sure he didn't have this effect on me only. 

"Oh well, I'll leave you guys to your meeting, bye!" Jeongin giggled and disappeared in his office.

I stared at the man as if he was the only important thing in the world. He stared at me with a gaze I couldn't interpret. We both bowed before it could get embarrassing.

"Let me help." He muttered.

I felt a wave of a strange feeling as he came closer and was fast to lightly yell. "No, no, I'll do it, it's fine." 

I crouched down, picking up the messy bag as I made a strange noise. I heard him chuckle as he walked in the office. 

The office in the middle of the corridor. How amazing this man was. 

Walking slower than him, I watched as he pulled out another chair while I closed the door behind me, the bag trying to slip away from my hands once again. 

"Place it there." He affirmed, indicating the chair he just brought next to mine with a smile.

I wasn't as nervous as the other time, so I finally got to look around the room. It was neatly organized, until the tiniest detail, piles and piles of sheets of paper classified under an order I could not understand. He had a computer on his desk, the pair of specs he was wearing some seconds ago next to it, other bunches of paper sheets with numbers, numbers, numbers on them, some organisers and agendas covering the edge at his left. It had grey walls as well, a lighter gray than the one in the corridor. A cheap copy of "Thinking about death" by Frida Kahlo and "The three ages of woman" by Gustav Klimt hanging on the walls.