"Lee Hippie" || minsung || ENG

2. Watercolorist and haiku fan

covered heart
watercolor and acrylic
golden glance

✿❀✿

"This dickhead has destroyed my painting!"

He slammed his fists on the store counter, being rebuked with his eyes by a woman with a child strolling between the shelves. Fortunately, they apparently did not find what they needed, because they fastly escaped from the building. Eventually, the woman was outraged by his behavior and already at the end of the day will get an unpleasant review on the company's website, for which the boss will cut his salary. He sighed patiently, combing his fingers through his tangled hair.

"You said yourself that you don't like it, right?" a blond man answered him, turning one of the albums on promotion in his hand.

"Well... yes," he mumbled, casting his gaze to the glass door where a woman and child had stood a moment ago.

"So he did you a kind of favor," he acknowledged, opening the plastic package. "Why won't you go into watercolors and pastels like you wanted?

Jisung sighed again.

"It's not that simple... In the academy they prefer oil works,"

"Then change the academy,"

Jisung snorted under his breath this time. After an incident a day ago, when a madman on the street destroyed his painting, he went to the office empty-handed, explaining the situation. The man in charge of recruitment fortunately understood Han's helplessness and moved the deadline for turning in the work to next week. The only problem was the lack of any idea of a painting. He could paint the last work anew, on a new canvas, emphasizing all the details even more, but that was not his style. He had to create something new, especially for the occasion.

Hyunjin didn't understand this, instructing Jisung to shuffle out what he thought was the best work from the rented studio and hand it over to the brunette recruiter.

"This is a huge opportunity for me, Jinnie. If they accept me into this academy..." he dreamed. "Can you imagine that? Taking lessons from the greatest artists in a private academy that combines tradition with innovation?"

Hwang nodded a moment, as if to say 'yes, yes, I know about it' in this way. He had heard enough about that academy, as his friend was able to list to him for hours the great teaching personae of the art world there, as well as every point of the entire first-year academy's curriculum.

He put the album back on the metal stand and returned his gaze to the boy leaning against the tabletop.

"Do you have a portrait of me?"

Han nodded and reached under the counter, from which he pulled out a hand-decorated artwork folder, a gift from Hyunjin. He pulled out a piece of paper, which after a moment was in Hwang's slender hands. The man parted his lips, then smiled radiantly.

"I don't know why you need something like that," he commented, tucking the folder back into place.

"It's simple. Once you become the second Picasso, I will sell this marvel at auction for fat thalers,"

Han snorted with laughter, glancing at his work again. The drawing was made with acrylic paints and depicted Hyunjin's profile. Warm shades of orange and yellow chalked up the neatly styled hair, brownish irises turning into gold, creamy caramel complexion and rosy lips and cheek contours. He was in the habit of painting portraits with acrylic paints, although he was only just becoming familiar with the form, remaining faithful to watercolors and possibly oil pastels.

"So this is the 'obstruction' right?"

"Jesus, Jinnie, an abstraction!" he let out disgusted, rolling his eyes.

Llama laughter left the perfect lips of the blond-haired man, who looked at his painterly face with appreciation. He sat with his friend for a while longer, sipping his iced coffee with ice cream and whipped cream, and when only an ice cube was left in the cup, he left the music store, leaving Jisung alone without a drink.

Painter sat on a stool at the cash register and pulled his phone out of his pocket to browse social media. He doubted there would be a large number of customers at these hours, after all, it was barely thirteen o'clock, so he wanted to somehow kill the unmercifully long work hours. Bored, he was swiping his finger across some musician's profile on Instagram when someone tapped on the store counter, wanting his attention. He turned off the phone and raised his eyes, rising from his chair, but just as quickly as he got up, he regretted it.

Amused eyes gazed at him from behind tinted glasses, and his hands, on whose wrists dangled linen bracelets, clutched a small package of vinyl.

"What are you doing here?" burbled a surprised Han.

"Destiny brought me here to see you again, daisy," he chuckled. "Well, and I want to buy a record."

Inhale with your nose and exhale with your mouth, Hannie - he repeated in his head, then counted to ten. With an uncharacteristically artificial smile, he seized the plate and checked it out, asking for the calculated amount of money.

"Do you know this band?" he asked, searching through his pockets for his wallet.

Jisung looked at the vinyl he was holding, shaking his head negatively. He liked practically every genre of music, and most often rock solos or rapper freestyles sounded in his headphones, but the name 'Jeffersone Airplane' only flashed in his ears.

"Not really."

"Then why don't you play it?" he suggested with a sassy smile.

Han shrugged his shoulders, answering quietly 'Why not?" and gently slid the vinyl out of the package. He opened the gramophone and started it up, and a guitar riff rang through the store. Minho leaned his elbows against the oak tabletop, resting his cheeks on his hands.

Don't you want somebody to love?
Don't you need somebody to love?
Wouldn't you love somebody to love?
You better find somebody to love
Love

He began humming a tune, after a while joining the singer, gaining the interest of a store employee.

Jisung raised his eyebrows, finding that Lee, child of the flower Minho, had a really pleasant voice to the ear.

"When the garden flowers
Baby, are dead, yes
And your mind, your mind
Is so full of red"

Along with the chorus, Han uncertainly sang the next lines, already orienting himself with the repeated text. A small smile crept onto his lips, highlighting his squirrelly cheeks. Minho shamelessly looked him in the eye, sliding his glasses down to the tip of his nose. Jisung broke off his singing and almost choked for air, feeling how the drilling gaze of Lee's warm eyes almost stared into his soul. There was something strange, intriguing and at the same time so warm in his gaze that a person wanted to sink into it, like into a sea of hot chocolate, and never go out of it again.

Don't you want somebody to love?
Don't you need somebody to love?
Wouldn't you love somebody to love?
You better find somebody to love
Your eyes, I say your eyes
May look like his
Yeah, but in your head, baby
I'm afraid you don't know where it is

"Hippie folk rock, right?" he remarked, running his eyes to the side and tucked the disc back into its packaging.

"True, true. Do you listen to rock?"

"Oh, yeah. Punk rock, thrash metal..." he began to list.

"You looked like a punk to me," he admitted with a mean smile on his pink lips.

Han put the package down on the counter and pressed his fingertips to the edge of the countertop. Minho was creating himself as a hippie, but Jisung was sincerely beginning to doubt his veracity. He destroyed his painting, knocked it over on the sidewalk, made him pay for the laundry and, for dessert, mocked him. The man shifted his glasses on his nose and caught his purchase in his hands. He headed for the exit, disappearing after a while behind a glass door.

And Jisung realized that Lee, child of the flower Minho, had not paid for the album he bought.

***
Song: "Somebody to Love" - Jefferson Airplane