pride and feathers
purples and pomegranates
love and peace
✿❀✿
He sighed quietly, looking through a carton of small, colorful bottles. He wasn't satisfied with the fact that the bottle of yellow paint was practically empty and stuck among the others, confusing his vision that he didn't need to go to the nearest plastic artist at all to fill up his supply. He pulled out the navy blue shade and looked at the already prepared glass vase, on which the delicate outlines of a beautiful peacock were shimmering.
"Damn it," he burbled under his breath.
"Fucking birds chirp over our ears in the morning, Jisung. A fucking oasis of peace and harmony of spirit," replied Minho, sitting in a recliner, gesturing. "So, additionally, don't curse."
Annoyed, he threw the empty bottle against the tiles on the balcony.
"What are you even doing here? Somehow I don't remember inviting you here, so keep your mouth shut!"
Minho laughed, smiling radiantly. He put his foot down, watching a pair of arguing teenagers walking by the block. On a small table on the balcony stood a vase with daisies still holding well.
"Ugh, why don't you make yourself useful for something and go get some paint for me!" he called out from the living room.
He chose a suitable brush, taking a moment to apply blue pigment to the peacock's feathers. Minho exclaimed something like 'I'm not your servant, daisy,' but quickly denied his words, appearing in the balcony door. Jisung pressed the deducted money and the bottle thrown earlier into his hand.
Minho left Jisung's place and used his phone to quickly find his way to the art store, which turned out to be closer than he suspected. Han, meanwhile, was applying blue paint in precise motions, humming the chorus of 'Killing In The Name' by Rage Against the Machine under his breath. His energetic twitching while washing his brushes was interrupted by a ringing phone. He wiped his hands in a small towel by the kitchen sink and answered the call from Minho, sighing internally. Surely Lee was so dumbfounded that he didn't know what kind of paint to buy, holding up a bottle with the exact name and shade of the pigment.
"You've already lost on your way?" he sneered, leaning with his back against the tabletop.
His good mood, however, was quickly abandoned by the elder's interrupted breathing in the earpiece.
"Minho? Is everything ok?"
"Jisungie, can you come here? Please..." he almost broke down, and Han was sure he was shaking.
His heart squeezed in his chest, but he grabbed his keys and walked to the hallway, where he put on his shoes and threw a leather jacket over his shoulders.
"I'm coming, are you in that plastics shop around the corner?" he asked, running down the stairs with his heart beating fast.
"A little further on, under the old cinema. Hurry up, Jisungie," he whispered.
Han violently opened the cage door and ran outside.
"Calm down, tell me what's going on," he asked, running across the crosswalk.
"I think someone is following me, Jis..." he snapped, and the connection ended.
Jisung quickened his step, clenching his fingers tightly on the black phone case. In a minute he found himself in front of the old movie theater, looking anxiously from side to side. Anger rose in him at himself and at this stupid hippie. After all, he lived in a quiet neighborhood, so how could he have predicted that someone would attack Minho? He could have gone to get the damn paint himself, and told him to stay on the balcony!
YOU ARE READING
"Lee Hippie" || minsung || ENG
FanfictionHan Jisung's a young watercolorist, who set himself a goal of entering the circle of the outstanding painters. Until recently, each of his works highlighted fragments of his soul, but after colliding with different requirements, he lost himself amon...
