he paints with lies ❆ kookmin

1 • 하나

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❁ཻུ۪۪⸙͎.'◦• ⊱›────── January 12th 2020

Snowflakes fell effortlessly in the calm, dry air of the night. The wide pathway was almost invisible under the newly fallen snow, but the low torches guided him toward the entrance. There, standing in front of the open, grand, double doors was a man he knew well. As he stopped in front of him, he took his silver mask off to reveal his face.

"Welcome, Professor. You may enter," the guard said as he stepped aside, hands behind his back.

"Just call me by my first name, Gyo. Don't be so formal with me," he chuckled as he stroke his bangs away to put the mask back on, taking a step inside. "Did appa arrive yet?"

"Yes, indeed, and so did your eomma," Gyo told him over his shoulder.

"Really?" His voice rose an octave in surprise. He never expected his mother to leave work for anything. That way he avoided disappointment. "Well, thank you."

He made his way to the door leading into the ballroom, hanging off his winter coat along the way. Two guards let him in, and he bowed before he walked through. A tiny shudder of excitement travelled up his spine for the first time that night as he did. Perhaps even the first time that week. Though he had the job of his dreams, even that had become something that went more or less on repeat. But tonight would be unlike the other days of the week. He was determined of that.

The grand hall was a sight that had to be seen in order to grasp its beauty. It was decorated in cold tones, pearly white covering the walls. The high ceiling allowed grand crystal crowns to hang from it, sparkling beautifully.

On the short side, to the right, was a stage that glistened from the fairy lights. The parallel side held an exhibition of paintings in the same theme as the room. There were likely a dozen paintings on the vertically facing display stands. Only the center piece horizontally faced the room, and it was mesmerising.

His gaze swept over the couples dancing to the soft music coming from the stage. It was easy to find his father, since the man had taken his mask off. The sight of him made a small smile tug on his lips as he stepped around the dancers, gracefully crossing the floor.

"Jimin," his father said as he looked his way, and their eyes met. The man had a childish grin plastered on his face, protruding the inevitable wrinkles. "Come meet the newest partner in the firm."

The man standing in front of his father turned around, and Jimin met a black mask. His hair was even darker, and his pale skin contrasted quite beautifully.

"Park Jimin," he greeted with a smile, holding his hand out to him. Jimin expected nothing as he met new people, whomever they were said to be. He never believed in rumours; only his own interpretation of people.

"Min Yoongi," he replied as he shook Jimin's hand with a firm grip that hinted at a surprising underlying strength. The deep, raspy voice was unexpected as well, but pleasant. Perhaps Yoongi was contradiction itself.

Jimin's smile widened and his eyes crinkled, and at that he could just make out the faintest blush under Yoongi's mask. He found the man quite peculiar; he was as short as himself, though slightly slimmer, and held the posture of a butler. It was different from most lawyers, whom dislayed superiority, while Yoongi looked ready to take orders with his hands behind his back.