The days pass, light grey and drizzly. Thursday arrives though, clouds having made way for the sun to gently kiss through my windows, waking me up before my alarm. It's a calm morning, brewing coffee and changing shirts twice before even calling Kim.
I hadn't spoken to (y/n) since the day after we'd picked her dress; she'd put herself into complete isolation, saying she needed to be completely free from distraction until her gallery. I chalked it up to a bizarre albeit charming 'artist' thing and let her be, preparing myself to be seen with her in public. Our day out hadn't gone unnoticed though; plenty of articles had sprung up with photos of her and I in a heap on the boutique floor, courtesy of the snake-like attendant I'd failed to notice during our breakdown. Jaehee insisted on making some sort of statement but I decided any publicity was good publicity and if anything, the rumors would draw more people to her show.
I walk into the office a bit after nine, a quiet atmosphere making me breathe easy. There's hardly any paperwork waiting for me at my desk when I sit down, and before Jaehee enters I'm almost suspicious of how smooth today seems to be going.
"Good morning, Mr. Han," she walks in, closing the door behind her. "You seem to be in a good mood today."
"What makes you say that?"
"You have a look about you," she smirks the tiniest bit. "Are you ready for (y/n)'s gallery tonight? It seems like it's going to be a very high-profile event."
"It does, doesn't it? I knew she was very well-known since she's done shows internationally, but it's hard to imagine just how many people will be there." I glance down at my phone and see a text message, shifting it away from me for the moment.
"It's you and (y/n)'s first official appearance, you know," She adds quietly, looking down.
"I know. It's going to be good." I smile to myself for a moment; (y/n) convinced me to match my suit to her dress, and as much as I may have protested I secretly couldn't wait to be seen with her.
"Now I know the world has turned upside down. Jumin Han is blushing to himself over his girlfriend," Jaehee scoffs, rolling her eyes as she lets herself out. "Don't forget you have a conference call at eleven today. I know you're on cloud nine but there is still some work to do."
I nod, slightly embarrassed as she leaves. I look back down at my phone and see the text is from my father, which is unusual because if he needed something from me he would simply come to the office, or just pass the message on through Jaehee. It's short and simple: Please call me when you can. It's an ominous and anxiety inducing message, my fingers shaking a bit as I clicked call. I'm brought to his voicemail, my heart dropping into my stomach as I sat there quietly before hanging up. Every nerve tells me to go to his house, to make sure he's okay, but I decide to stay put and wait for him to return my call.
The conference call is long and boring, most of it spent on mute as everybody else droned on about company initiatives and a change in hiring policies, and what colors are suitable to wear when meeting new clients. Once the call is over I'm left in limbo; I could go home and get ready for the gallery then wait six hours, or I could wait for my father's call here. As I'm pouring myself a cup of coffee my cell phone buzzes in my pocket.
"Father," I answer, heart stopped in my chest. "Is everything okay?"
"Jumin? Yes, everything's fine. Did you think something was wrong?" My father's voice on the other line is business as usual, the adrenaline slowly but surely leaving my body, relief replacing it.
"It's unusual for you to ask me to call you without an explanation. I guess I expected the worst."
"We're okay, son," I hear a woman's voice in the background, with some muted electronic buzzing and beeping. "Katy and I were out and she slipped on some ice and hurt her ankle. The doctor is still examining the X-rays, but she's in good spirits."
"Katy? Who's that?" I ask, confused.
"You met Katy when you came over on Christmas, Jumin. You don't remember?" He sounds almost hurt in his reply.
"Oh, her. Yes," I remember the way she folded so nicely into my father's arm on the couch that day, their closeness strange to me. "I'm glad she's okay. Did you need something?" I'm ready to pack up now that the looming danger is gone, even though there isn't much to do until the gallery. I want to be completely prepared, and I'm hoping (y/n) will break her silence to speak with me before we're surrounded by wolves.
"Actually, yes. I'll be tied up here for a bit, but I'm supposed to have lunch with the CEO of the company we signed off the partnership with last week. I need you to go in my place."
"No problem," I begin to pack up my things, a little relieved at my father's request since it's something to do in between waiting to go see (y/n). "Where am I meeting him?"
"It's not near the office," he says. "You'll be having lunch a few towns over; I'll send you the exact address. It's about a two hour drive, I believe."
"Two hours?" I repeat in shock. Two hours both ways, I hoped. "You mean two hours here and back, right?"
"No," he says matter-of-factly. "Two hours there and two hours back. It's a bit of a drive but it's important we keep a very good relationship with this family now that they've signed with us."
I curse myself for not getting all the details before agreeing, saying goodbye to my father so I could get a move on with this meeting. Knowing these corporate lunches, it'll be more than a soup and a salad before I can say farewell, and as I wave goodbye to Jaehee worry sits heavy on my chest. The backseat of Kim's car is lonely as I sit trapped in my own thoughts, knowing I'd be up against the clock to make it to (y/n)'s show on time.
-
Six o'clock. Six o'clock sharp I was supposed to be holding (y/n) on my arm, matching all black outfits as she showcased her best gallery yet. But now it's six thirty-one and I'm sat on the edge of my bed, hesitant to button up my vest despite the countless missed calls piling up in my phone. I arrived home over half an hour ago and as I began to put on my clothes that we'd already laid out days before, something inside of me came to a halt. Every fear that I'd tried to bury in the back of my head suddenly demanded to be felt violently, no room for logic or reason.
So I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing the buttons of my vest absentmindedly as I stared off into another universe, when a cold wetness dripping onto my thigh pulled me back to reality. I raise my hand to my cheek and I'm crying, the sensation strange without (y/n) here to tell me it's okay. I stand up and finish putting myself together, the tears still easily flowing as I get into the car and tell Kim the address. It's not a long drive but for some reason I wait in the car for a long time, quietly crying to myself while Kim tries to snap me out of it. I hear "Mr. Han?" about a thousand times but all it takes is a knock on my window to pull me away from my thoughts. I look up and it's V, talking to Kim through the front passenger window. I open my door and let myself out, furiously rubbing tears from my eyes before looking directly at V.
"Jumin," he breathes, taking off his sunglasses and looking at me closely. "Where were you? Everyone was calling you."
"I had to help my dad with something," my voice is half-whimper, half-sob, trying to cover it up with a loud cough. I try to push past V into the venue but he blocks me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"You're not going in like this, Jumin. This is (y/n)'s night and she isn't here to work out whatever it is you're going through," he speaks, his voice firm. "You've already made a scene by not showing up and she won't let on, but you've really hurt her."
"Are you kidding me, V?" I scowl, emptiness being filled with a bubbling anger. "I'm fine, okay? I want to go in, so move."
"Jumin, look at yourself!" He's practically pleading me, looking exasperated as he points to the car. I turn to see my reflection in the tinted windows and he's right; I can't go in like this. My tie is crooked, my hair a mess from running my hands through it, my cheeks tear-stained and one of my buttons is undone on my shirt. Beyond looking the part of a midlife crisis, I know I'm exuding absolute self loathing and anger, which (y/n) wouldn't be able to miss. I take a deep breath and look up at the starless sky, exhaling slowly.
"Here," V takes out a tissue and ask Kim for a bottle of water. He drips some of it onto the tissue and hands it to me; I look down at it, clueless.
"Put it against your eyes so it doesn't look like you were crying. Here's another one to blow your nose," he pulls out another one from his pocket and I curiously wonder why V carries around tissues with him. "Forget about whatever actually made you so late and go enjoy the gallery. It really is breathtaking."
"I'm not that late," I grumble as we make our way inside.
"It's eight o'clock now, Jumin," V says, my heart dropping at how much time I spent unable to get out of my own damn head. Two men open the doors for us, leading into a short, pitch black corridor. A curtain opens into a big, open space, and once the cameras stop flashing I'm able to see just what V was talking about.
The walls are bright white; everywhere I look there are life size sculptures of couples dancing, colorful and full of emotion as I weave through them. I approach one of them, two little girls holding hands like they're spinning in a circle. As I lean forward I see they're not wax, but stone, perfectly carved and sculpted as if they were real life people. I step back with V and I truly am breathless as I see all the couples dancing, all of them full of so much life it's a bit startling.
"There's more, believe it or not," V says, motioning me to follow him. We walk into a smaller room, with a bunch of long tables lining the walls. Dozens of books are displayed, people flipping through them curiously. As I get closer I see they're all of (y/n)'s sketchbooks, the one I'm flipping through dated over ten years ago. I proceed through the line of people, V close behind me.
"Look at this one," he chuckles, showing me a sketch of him, only his hair colored in with a thick turquoise marker. "This is from one of the first times we met. I never even knew she did this."
As we approach the last few sketchbooks I see the woman in front of me do a double take between myself and the pages in her hands, her eyebrows creasing together. Once she exits I grab the book and see pages filled up with drawings of me; my cheeks burn as I gently flip through the book, V appearing over my shoulder. A part of me almost slams the cover shut, but I know that hundreds of people have already seen these drawings of me. I'm unable to form a coherent sentence as I continue to gaze down at the pages, V giggling in my ear.
"We all saw this earlier," he laughs. "How do you feel?"
"I want to be embarrassed but I really just feel... I don't know," I say, placing the sketchbook back down on the table. "It's strange that she shares something so valuable with the whole world. I'd want to keep all of this beauty for myself."
He gives me a warm look as I flick my eyes up to his, feeling the anticipation of what could possibly be next.
"Why don't we go see the star of the show?" He smiles, leading us out of the room. I want to spend the rest of my life flipping through the pages, wondering what every line and curve could possibly mean. I follow behind though, ducking through a soft pink curtain into a smaller room. The walls are a softer white, the lights calm, almost like the sun was filtering through somehow. I look up and see seven paintings hung at eye level, two each on the left and right walls and three in front of me. Before I can properly look at the paintings though, a long, black dress catches my eyes.
She stops her conversation when our eyes meet, her glossy lips opening the slightest. She holds up a polite hand to the people she's speaking with, crossing the room to meet me. When we're face to face I feel everybody's eyes on us, but her's are locked on mine; it's a seemingly long few moments, silence spreading across the room as more people entered, watching us.
"You're late," she says quietly.
"I know. I'm sorry." I want to reach out and close the distance between us but she's nearly statuesque in front of me, like the figures she sculpted in the other room. It feels like a taboo to put my hands on something so precious, like touching the art.
"But you're here."
"I am."
"You're here," her head turns and she finally smiles, tears glazing over her eyes. They sparkle in the light of the room, and I can't help but frame her face with my hands, a masterpiece. "You're here."
"Don't cry," I lean close and press my forehead to hers. "Don't cry. You are so breathtaking, (y/n), so don't cry. I'm sorry I wasn't here but now isn't the time to try and explain. This is your night and you deserve everybody's eyes glued on you like they are now."
"They're looking at both of us," she laughs, cradling my face in her hands.
"I promise that it's just you they're waiting for," I smile, pulling away. She looks around the room, the space packed with people, jaws dropped, expectant. She looks just as awestruck, though, her lips parted a bit as her eyes make their way back to me.
"Come on," she takes my hand, pulling me through the crowd and out of the room. "You're the final piece."
I follow her as she starts running through the countless people, pushing past them through all the rooms, camera flashes and shouts following us every step. We enter the room with the dancing sculptures and as people form a circle around us she places a hand on my shoulder, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers with the other. My free hand falls on her hip, all eyes on us as her eyes quite literally sparkle up at me as she takes the first step, leading me through a dance to the murmurs and clicks of the crowd.
We keep in perfect step, dancing and twirling among all the figures together, the real people moving out of our way when we approached. Even though there was no music playing I felt something connecting us, and as we danced faster and faster I found myself letting go of every gnawing thought, not caring about all the photographs and articles and lies, no longer hiding my smile. She grabs my other hand and we begin to spin around, the pretend music only we can hear picking up even more.
"You're smiling!" She shouts over the crowd who'd began chanting and yelling, the camera's flashing reaching a crescendo.
"I know!" I laugh, pulling her in close to me and lifting her off of the ground, spinning her in the air as people gasped and screamed.
"I love you!" I yell over all the noise, bringing her back down and holding her in my arms, just one of her feet touching the ground. She's breathing heavily through her huge smile, tears pricking both of our eyes.
"I never doubted it," she whispers, placing her hand on the back of my neck and pulling me down for a kiss. If the people surrounding us didn't have enough to talk about, they certainly did now. We're surrounded by strangers and friends who've now seen me at my most vulnerable, tears in my eyes as I struggle to suppress giggles spilling from my lips. The best part is I'm not worried about it; I don't care if I'm not the cold corporate heir I've been painted to be, because I like the way (y/n) has painted me much better.