Chapter Text
“Hello everyone, I hope you guys enjoyed the winter break to its fullest, because we have a lot of work to do this last semester!”
Baek Jeyoung was everything Hongjoong ever wanted to be. The man was in his fifties, working full time as a university professor after making a whole career out of his own clothing designs. He worked under the name of important national brands and was able to even get his hands into the international industry for a little bit when he was still a student, helping out an artist from Japan. His career was a dream come true to every single student and it was a pleasure to work under his guidance and to learn with his experience. He made it seem easy, at the same time he made sure to challenge them to create something meaningful.
Hongjoong was his best student, at first.
He was one of the most engaged, enthusiastic and energetic students in the class. His first and second years were all filled with beautiful and inspiring creations that made every other professor interested to see more. He had good grades and loved both practical and theoretical class subjects. Fashion design came easily for him; the entire course fitted him like a silk glove. He felt, in the beginning, that he was made for that. Still during his freshman year he secured a full time job as an assistant in a small family company that designed and sewed handmade formal attires for both man and woman. It was a lot of work, but he loved every minute of it, always staying up late to finish a dress or waking up before sunrise to start drawing the patterns for his next suit.
But then his third year at university came around. It felt like a bucket filled to the brim with cold water had poured all over him and his designs.
He felt heavy, soaked wet with everything he had ever done all ruined around him. The job was an internship the university had provided and while he begged them to continue, they couldn’t hire a real employee because it was too expensive for them. The owner was sad to let him go and he said they would make sure to call him for freelance work whenever they needed so he could keep an income, even if it was just a little bit.
He found another internship after a while, but it could never compare to his last experience. His boss was nice enough, but she left him with way too much work and way too little instructions. He liked the freedom to create but they started clashing with their differences very soon. He couldn’t understand nor anticipate what she wanted him to do, all while she made little to no effort to explain what she wanted from him.
The company was bigger than the last one, but a lot less organized, and they had way too many people around all the time, so work became overwhelming and unfulfilling soon enough. They also made it clear that they would not hire him as well, so he saw no need to keep working if he was getting nothing out of it, in the end.
His grades started dropping a little. It wasn’t anything too significant to worry his professors or family, but he knew it would not get better if he didn’t change anything. That said - he quit his job at the very start of his fourth and last university year. At first he thought it would be for the best, and it was, actually.
All the delayed things he had at home were done, so he cleaned and cooked homemade food for the first time since forever, he finished a few personal projects as well, and he focused on getting the final university project finished, at least, for the first semester. Professor Baek was interested and took him under personal guidance to finish the final work and finally graduate. He liked the idea, the concept he created and the sketches he made to show what he wanted to do. That was at the end of his third year, and for the first six months of the fourth year, they worked together to write a paper with all the research they used to come up with the idea, explaining the motivation behind every single detail for the three full designs he would need to make from scratch.
But the winter break got to him like the last hit on the nail. It sank him deeper, it made him suffocate, it trapped his body and mind in between dark and sharp wood, splinters pinning him down in sharp pain. His grades fell a little more, his overall points dropped from almost 100 to 80-something, and his will to attend classes was close to none.
Leaving the house became hard, listening to class subjects that didn’t interest him felt like a burden and his friends weren’t as interesting to be around anymore.
He found a regular job as an assistant in a textile factory that was just as boring as life itself, and everything he had started was now stagnant. His own project had become too much to handle, his classes too boring to attend, his final project too shitty to finish. Every day he would arrive late for work but no one could complain - because who else would ever want to work there anyway - and he would leave early after finishing the bare minimum they asked of him.
The text message Professor Baek had last sent him three weeks ago felt as heavy as a brick every time he opened his email, so he never checked it again. His friends were all dispersed in their own lives, almost none of them would even graduate with him anyway, because he still managed to keep his grades high enough to never fuck an entire year of classes, but now he regretted it a little. He didn’t want to be the only one of his small friend group to be standing dressed all in black with a nice hat and a piece of paper.
He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. It was all very boring, all his hobbies long forgotten, all his work amounted to nothing and locked away in the spare bedroom.
He was reading a boring erotic manga someone recommended on Twitter when a few text messages started coming up.
Wooyoung
Are u coming?
He ignored it, as he usually did.
Wooyoung
You’ll fuck this class over if you don’t
He knew that, but at that point, he did not care one bit about it.
Wooyoung
U can’t possibly fuck this over right on the 45 of the last match, get your ass up, I’m calling an Uber for u
He groaned into his pillow, feeling ever so sleepy.
He didn’t change from his sweatpants and tank top, he didn’t look in the mirror, he didn’t care about the weather or the class he was going to, he just didn’t want Wooyoung to waste money on him again.
Throwing a zipper hoodie over his shoulder and thanking himself again for the effort to never untie his shoes, he made his way outside with only his phone and headphones, calling Wooyoung on the way to the bus stop.
“I’m at the bus stop. Cancel the Uber.”
“Nope, I called it for the bus stop next to your apartment for a reason. Take the damn car and get your ass here, it’s too late for the bus, you would arrive right in the middle of the lecture.”
“As if they would care whether I arrive on time or not.”
“You know very well that they would. Mrs. Jung is just too kind to let it show. Now, the car must be arriving there, it’s a white Nissan.”
Sure enough, he saw the car slowly approaching. He didn’t think twice before getting inside and hanging up the call without a goodbye.
“Wooyoung?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t correct the driver.
“To Seoul University, right?”
“Yep.”
“Ok. Tell me if you want me to close the windows.” Hongjoong just nodded at the man, watching just his eyes from the rearview mirror.
He was only 10 minutes late for the class when he arrived.
Wooyoung greeted him with a small wave that turned into a peace sign and a smile. The class was about ethics and business management, as far as he knew, but after working for so long already in the industry - considering he was just a student, he was aware of all the bullshit Mrs. Jung was teaching them. In real life, that never happened. In real life the quality of his work dropped if his boss wanted it to, in real life he couldn’t attend all the expectations of the clients, he couldn’t deal with bridesmaids, neither with moms; in real life he couldn’t handle requests he found ugly and he worked under pressure everyday just to make sure Susan was satisfied with her ugly ass dress just so her husband could rip it off for their honeymoon. In real life he couldn’t hide his face and he couldn’t be nice, he couldn’t work with something he didn’t enjoy to its fullest and he was always sleep deprived, overworked and underpaid.
Nothing like what he once was, he felt no joy or excitement in life.
The class came and went, then the small break between periods started, and then another class started, but he learned nothing from it. He stayed there all morning, and nothing changed. He could stay there the entire day, and nothing would change. Hongjoong could glue himself to the chair and never again leave that classroom and nothing. would. change. He would learn nothing useful and he would never remember whatever he answered whenever Wooyoung asked him something. His morning was a blurry mess that took place at university rather than on his bed this time, and the difference between environments was just that at least, at home, Wooyoung couldn’t bother him.
“Let’s all take our seats so I can start. We have a lot to do today.” Professor Baek smiled at them, but his eyes never turned to Hongjoong.
The man, who was everything he ever wanted to be, couldn’t even look at him.
“I know it is the last class of the day, you guys must be tired, but I took over the class this year so I’m excited to start. It’ll be the first time I’m guiding the finals, so forgive me if there’s anything wrong, and please be sure to reach out to me through our online chat if you have any questions. Anyway! Let’s start now. I’ll show you guys the power points for this, and I’ll send it to everyone as well.”
The first thing Hongjoong saw when he looked at the slide presentation was a pretty looking design with only one thing written down: “Final Design Project - GCFD1000”. The name for the subject and their class code suddenly made everything real again.
This was his final design, the last thing he would do before graduating - and Mrs Beak still wouldn’t look at him.
“For this year, my colleagues and I had a few ideas and lots of fights over what the theme should be. We all know you guys have your three final designs to accomplish and we are very excited to see it, but I decided to make a small challenge instead of giving everyone just another research. I want everyone to create a fourth piece based on one of the themes we, your sterner professors, wrote down.”
He could hear complaint noises from all the students, a few small cries or grunts, everyone was already way too tired to make another piece in such a short period of time, but Mrs Bark only laughed.
“Don’t worry, this will be the only thing you guys will worry about among all the classes. We made a deal over the department to make sure this is the only hands-on project you have, ok? Now. One by one staring from my left side, come here to draw your theme from the mystery box! I made this one myself, isn’t it lovely?” The older man showed everyone a bright pink cardboard box with glitter on its sides, making a few students laugh.
It felt like an eternity until he could go and take the damn paper. Mrs Baek only faintly smiled as he got the paper.
Love.
He huffed. “Can I try again?” He asked, showing off the paper to the man in front of him.
“Nope, you can’t, and if you want my honest opinion, this theme suits you well.”
Mushing his thoughts and biting his tongue before he said something he would regret, Hongjoong went back to his seat, questioning where the fuck that would suit him.
“What did you get?” Wooyoung asked, tapping his shoulder.
“Some bullshit, and you?”
“I got sadness. And what the fuck do you mean by some bullshit?”
Hongjoong turned his torso to properly look at his friend and showed him the paper. Wooyoung’s first reaction was to burst out laughing. “Hahaha! I’m so fucking curious to know what you’ll come up with!”
“Im coming up with my first failed subject, just watch.”
“No, hyung! What have I told you, don’t fuck it up so close to the end, I don’t want to see you again next year, ok? Don’t be like me.”
“I’d be happier to graduate with at least one person I know.”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “I still can’t believe you spent four years of your university life working instead of making friends. Do you even know everyone's names?”
“Why would I?”
Wooyoung face palmed himself so hard the slap sound got the attention of a few people around them. “You’re a lost cause!”
Mrs. Baek called everyone’s attention to start explaining his idea and the rules they would need to follow for this design, such as the possible materials and some other things Hongjoong was already familiar with.
“So, I’m sure everyone saw just one or two words written down, right? For this particular case I asked everyone in the department to write down feelings, and I sorted everything out so nothing showed up twice. There's a few variations for the same thing but I hope everyone searches thoroughly for the real meaning and background for every term so you can represent it through a piece of clothing. I want you to be able to literally wear your feelings, and I want to be able to see it.”
In short, he was screwed.
Only when he was at work that he checked the slides for this fucking project again. He read the rules and the list of mandatory and suggested materials again and again, trying to think of something he could make out of just… love? Jesus, he was so fucked.
One of the rules got his attention the most.
- Make sure to have someone else as the model for your work. Contact me if you find it difficult to find someone.
He knew it would be easy to just contact Mrs. Baek and have him recommend someone, but he was actively ignoring the man, and it seemed to be mutual, so he decided against it.
That night, after work, he texted Wooyoung.
You know someone willing to sell their souls over credits?
Wooyoung
In need of a model for your work?
Yeah
Wooyoung
I called San to help me out
U could call Yunho, no? He’s already built like a damn actor or somethingYou know he’s busy and out of town more than usual lately, don’t wanna bother him
Wooyoung
He would do that for u tho
I know
Wooyoung
Well, I can help u find someone, but first, start you fucking design and show me at LEAST three different ideas before I call someone
Afraid I would give up?
Wooyoung
I’m afraid you would make someone else’s life as miserable as ur own
Get your shit together Hongjoong
I won’t be here to help your sorry ass forever
Shut the fuck up
Wooyoung
Than find whatever the fuck your looking for
And make sure to do that before you start crumbling down
Bc I won’t let u take me or anyone with u
Hongjoong didn’t answer him. No. He stared angrily at the screen for three seconds before he threw his phone over the room so strongly it got stuck inside the drywall.
And he screamed into his pillow.
He tore up his skin with his nails.
He bruised himself with the deodorant bottle.
But not a tear was shed, as he didn’t even have any more to give.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
It took him a month to draw three different ideas, only for him to hate the three of them in the end. The first one was of a heart shaped skin tight shirt and a long skirt that fell like flower petals on the back. He would use soft and light fabric to give the impression of it floating around, but hadn’t decided the colors yet. The second one was a mix of a suit and a dress, kind of. The upper body was inspired by something like the nutcracker, with a wine red and cream white color that just matched the dark gold from the buttons. The lower body had simple tailored wine red pants but there was a v-line open cream white skirt attached to it, with the same flowing idea of petals or clouds. The third one was a casual suit made entirely of knitted mismatched hearts, some complete and others with an empty space in the middle, as if they were broken. It was see through and the patterns would be a bitch to knit, but it would look good in the end.
These were just ideas, and he hates the three of them.
Nothing felt like love, nothing gave him the impression of love, nothing in those pieces reminded him of what love was like.
Love was bitter for him, because it didn’t remind him of anyone in particular, but rather of himself. Hongjoong, when thinking about love, was reminded of his lack of it. He did not love anything or anyone, he did not fall out of love with anyone but himself, or what he used to be, and, to serve as the cherry on top of the cake, he actually lost the passion he had to create, so what love could he even pour into those pieces?
“What do you have in there? I’m curious!”
Hongjoong signed while looking at the three ugly ass drawings he made, dropping it on the coffee table in front of the other man. Wooyoung was sitting down with San resting his head on his lap while he played a rhythm game on his phone, barely participating in the conversation. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was standing up in front of them. He got up to get the drawings and didn’t stay to check Wooyoung’s reaction to it, leaving to kill time in the kitchen while he pretended he was drinking water.
And for someone like Wooyoung, his silence spoke volumes.
Returning to the living room, he kept standing next to him with crossed arms to hide shaking hands. “So?”
“They’re not… they’re not bad, but it doesn’t feel like Hongjoong. It feels more as if Zara had created a fashion show and decided to launch it during Valentine’s Day.”
Hongjoong groaned loudly, throwing his body into the couch. “They’re so fucking ugly.”
“Hyung, you know they’re not, it’s just not really you. It doesn’t feel like what you like and it doesn’t give away the love it should. Have you thought about what you really want to convey in this piece?”
“It’s supposed to be love, but I don’t feel it. It doesn’t-” Hongjoong turned to his side and hugged the small cushion next to him. “I can’t do it. I’ll give up this semester and try again next year.”
“Nope, absolutely not. Hyung, what did I tell you, get your shit together! Even if you don't like it, you still need to give them something, anything will do, so choose the easiest piece and make it. You have little time to do everything.”
He stared at Wooyoung for a brief moment, then he turned around and found the smallest amount of peacefulness within the darkness of his closed eyes pressed against the cushion and the muffled silence that only a worried Wooyoung would give.
Love.
If Hongjoong were to ever define it, it would be a very generic explanation. Love is the name of the feeling you get when there’s something so special to you it can’t fit into your chest, so it flows out of your mouth in the shape and sound of an I love you. Love is the feeling you have for beloved parents or friends, it’s the way you cherish someone or the butterflies they give you in the stomach.
Bullshit.
Hongjoong had fallen in love once, but it was more of a teenager thing. He understands now that what he felt was special because everything he felt back then flowed into his veins and out of his eyes, it couldn’t be kept inside his mouth, couldn’t be held by his hands. The energetic way you feel everything hits twice as hard when you’re young. A simple ‘no’ can ruin your life and make you hate your parents, at the same time that a small ‘I made you your favourite dish’ can fix everything in the blink of an eye. It was during this irregular season of feelings that he fell in love for the first time.
He still remembers how hard it was to keep it within himself, how easy it was to see the hearts in his eyes and how fast his chest was moving. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel everything so immensely and so intensely it was overflowing into his music, his dreams, his drawings, his dance, his words. It was so good he was walking on the clouds and swimming in the air. He was 15 at the time, and the one he fell in love with was a classmate. A boy.
The boy was openly bisexual so Hongjoong couldn’t even stop himself from planning all their life together. It was so easy to be around him, so easy to talk, to laugh when they were close. He remembers the time they spent at the library in the silence of the books and the high volume of every story they shared. He remembers so clearly the day they could have kissed for the first time, and it would’ve been perfect. They were together, all alone, so happy to be there, laughing at whatever terrible joke Hongjoong had told him. They were sitting so close to each other, their knees touching, their hands on top of each other. It was the sweetest thing.
But nothing happened.
Next thing he knew, the boy, his first crush, first love, was texting him to ask for someone else’s number. A girl from the other class.
It was more of a teenager thing, the feeling he had at the time, the dreadful feeling of the world crumbling down around him, of the high clouds and smooth wind turning into hard concrete and the usual city polluted air.
The second time he fell in love, he was 19, at university. This time, it was more of a young adult thing, the feeling you get when you’re living for yourself and by yourself for the first time. The excitement of being free from your parents, the way the world changed its perspective overnight and everything seems brand new again. He could never describe it, but the nice atmosphere around him never dissipated, and he was lively, interested, he loved what he was doing and he found joy in life in a way no one seemed to do. He found the beauty around him that leaked into his designs, into his music, his dance, his face, the way he spoke and what he did.
But he couldn’t grasp that feeling anymore. It was something distant now, something that gave him a weird sense of longing, as if it was from his past life and not two years ago. He couldn’t understand how he managed to do everything he did before, how he could get up so early in the morning, how he attended every class and completed every task. The thought of it hit him like nostalgia usually did, nostalgia of his past self, of the things he liked to do, of the things he had created before.
Hongjoong felt bitter. He saw himself as a long extinguished flame of a match, with only the faint smell of the smoke left behind. His ambitions all burned away. He did not find beauty in the things around him as he used to do; Hongjoong did not find the world to be lovely, and he did not love himself for who he was, instead, he was ashamed of the person he came to be.
Wooyoung and San left his apartment after they ate dinner and watched the new episode of a drama the younger had been obsessing over because of the main actor.
He laid back on the couch and stared at the ceiling in the silence of the empty house. The lack of noise was so loud after Wooyoung left that it always made an uncomfortable feeling creep under his skin. His mind could never shut up, not like the way it did years ago.
It was so easy to just be back then.
Wooyoung
Hey, as promised
Cleaning freak 🤢
Message | Save contact
And why do I need a cleaning freak’s number?Wooyoung
You could use the help of a cleaning freak to make your apartment look livable again for sure
He’s the guy that might indulge into ur bs
His name’s Seonghwa
He’s currently trying to make a name as a model so he’ll take whatever you can give atm
Probably
Don’t make the ugly fucking ass suit/dress shit and everyone will be alright
Hongjoong sighed deeply and didn’t answer Wooyoung. Instead, he pressed the button to message the possible model, ignoring how late it was already.
Hello, sorry to bother you at this hour at night, but Wooyoung gave me your number saying you like to model
I’m a student at the Seoul University for fashion design and I need someone to model for me
There’s only one piece you would need to actually wear and walk with it, but I’m hoping we could work together for some other projects as well? Tell me if it’s too much trouble
The answer obviously didn’t come right away, but he waited anyway. He waited in the uncomfortable silence of his apartment, looking at the ceiling until the darkness became a dim light blue. He waited until the sounds of the street started coming through the open window and the cold air from the early morning started to give him goosebumps. He waited until the lights turned brighter and the sounds louder, until his alarm went off at the usual time and he had to leave again.
Except he didn’t leave, skipping another day of classes in order to rest, because the answer never came, just like his sleep.
It was dark again when he woke up, 12h later. His hair was greasy and his mouth had a bad taste, his jaw hurting from how much he pressed it when he slept without those removable braces to stop him from crushing down his fucking teeth. His head was hurting, his hand half dead under his neck in a weird position and his phone uncomfortable under his ribs.
The first thing he did was get up to take a quick shower, just to find himself in the same clothes again, now laying down on his bed for a change. Then he charged his phone and waited patiently for it to turn back on while he stared at a different ceiling this time, the silence bothering him again, but not as much as the anticipation of an answer from Seonghwa.
+81 080 1117
Hey! Sorry, took me a while to see your message. You must be Hongjoong, I assume. Wooyoung talked about you.
I’m so happy you contacted me! When can we meet to discuss this over? I’m free after 6pm every weekday and the entirety of the weekend.
Oh, I’m glad you’re this excited
Before we meet, there’s a few things I need to tell you about the project
First of all, I’ll send you a document with the rules I need to follow to make the clothes for every project and what my ideas are, it’s all written down with a few drawings so you can see what my style is
Secondly, would you be ok with being semi-nude for long periods of time? I would need you to be only with your underwear so we can adjust the pieces to your precise size, otherwise it could become a problem for both of us
+81 080 1117
Oh. This got me by surprise, but I don’t think it would be too much of a hassle, don’t worry.
And I loved your drawings! They’re all very pretty. The concept behind the first project is beautiful, such as the challenge for the Love piece. I’m excited to work with you! Thank you for reaching out.
Oh, great
We could meet tomorrow at 7pm, if you’re ok with it? I can send you my address
+81 080 1117
I would love to. Thank you.
Should I bring anything?
Yourself is enough
See you tomorrow+81 080 1117
See you! 👋🏻
And after the small talk, he decided 12h of sleep wasn't enough, so he turned around to sleep some more, hoping he could wake up in time just to take a shower and have Seonghwa over.
The only clean part of his apartment was the living room. Clean might be an overstatement, but it was at least organized. That being said, he was currently freaking the fuck out.
Seonghwa, nicknamed ‘cleaning freak’ was coming over for the first time and he didn’t want to leave a bad impression, firstly because he was born and raised in a house where you could never have someone over it if even the ceiling wasn’t shining bright and secondly- who would want to work with someone who’s this messy? He can’t have someone over like this, and he was at the very brink of canceling at the last minute when Wooyoung showed up by chance.
“Wow, what happened?”
“I’m cleaning.”
“…reeeally?”
Hongjoong turned to face the disbelief presented on his friend’s face. “I’m trying.”
“I can see that. Want some help?”
“No, I’m good.”
Wooyoung closed the door behind him. “No you’re not. I’m taking the kitchen, please put these things away.” He motioned his hand to the mess around him on the floor.
He tried to organize and clean the shelves that overflowed with the personality he once had. One thing led to another and now he's taking every corner at the living room to dust, clean, organize and dispose of what he didn’t want anymore, and there was a lot. He threw away books he didn’t like, decorations he didn’t need, photos he hated of himself with people he didn’t like anymore and lastly, he took away the things that reminded him too much of himself. It bothered him to look at things that were so lively when he was not, it hurts to want it back so badly but not being capable of having it.
Better in the trash than on his mind. He had enough emotional garbage to carry around.
“So, what made you clean so suddenly?” Wooyoung started making small talk over the kitchen, the open space between them making it easy to see and talk to him while they cleaned.
“Seonghwa asked to meet me in person. I only realized I shouldn’t have invited him when it was already too late. Forgot you nicknamed him ‘cleaning freak’, fuck.”
“Haha! I don’t think he would mind too much, to be honest. He’s more of a bitch when he’s used to being around you, and I know he wouldn’t judge your depressive tendencies.”
“I don’t have depressive tendencies.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re depressed already, it’s not a tendency if it’s already happening.”
“Wooyoung.” He warned him, stopping what he was doing for a moment.
“Hongjoong.” The man stared back at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We both know this isn’t like you.”
That was the worst thing Wooyoung could have said, really. It did hit the nail in the head, it proved what he was so afraid of to be true. “Leave, please.”
“What? No, I’m trying to help-”
“LEAVE.”
Hongjoong took what that wasn’t valuable from the shelf and started throwing everything away. It went all to the trash without a second thought or a glance. He did not care.
He moved to wash the dishes but ended up breaking a glass in pure anger, his hands trembling so much he could barely get the pieces from the floor, getting hurt in the process. He did not care.
He finished everything and took the trash away, getting into the shower and just organizing a few things he had displayed in the sink. Old products for his hair, a few things he used to dye it blond when he had the energy to do it. He box dyed his hair entirely black only two days ago so he wouldn’t need to deal with taking care of it anymore. He did not care.
He couldn’t care, he had Seonghwa coming over and he couldn’t dare to be this angry at someone who had nothing to do with the mess of his life. He couldn’t rationally be angry at anyone but himself, but now was not the time to rationalize anything. He was so fucking angry he couldn’t keep it within himself.
Hongjoong was overflowing.
And he screamed into his pillow.
He tore up his skin with his nails.
He bruised himself with the remote control.
But not a tear was shed, as he didn’t even have any more to give.
Everything he couldn’t fix he threw on the floor of his room and closed the door. Not even a second later, he heard his phone ringing.
“Hey, you here?”
“Yeah, sorry for calling, I forgot to ask the number of your apartment.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I should’ve told you before. Wait a second.” Hongjoong got another pair of sleepers and left it over next to the door. “I’ll open it for you.”
The intercom that connected his apartment to the lobby was broken so Seonghwa wouldn’t be able to get to his apartment either way. He texted the building doorman and quickly heard the buzzing noise of the outside door being opened through the phone call. “It’s on the fourth floor, door number 2.”
“Oh, thank you! I’m coming then.”
Seonghwa hung up and Hongjoong waited for him with the door opened, heating up some water in the kitchen to make them both some tea.
“Hello?” A deep soft voice echoed from the door.
“Seonghwa-shi? Come in. I’m making some tea.” Hongjoong moved to the entrance and greeted the man with a big smile. “Any flavors you like best?”
“Oh, thank you! I like sweet things the most.”
When Seonghwa took his coat off, Hongjoong actually paid attention to the man. He was stunning, in every sense of the word - no wonder the man wanted to be a model.
Seonghwa had broad shoulders and a thin waist, the plain black shirt tucked inside his also black jeans left nothing to imagination about his size and body shape. Long legs, long arms, good posture, nice face, long black hair, long nose, big lips. The man was a dream come true right in front of his eyes. Nothing was out of place with him.
“Wow, I’m so glad you want to work with me.” Hongjoong said without even thinking.
“Oh, really? What do you mean?”
“You’re beautiful! It’ll be like eye drops for my eyes to work with you. I hope you like the projects.”
His laugh was just as mesmerizing as him. “Haha! You flatter me! Thank you, and yes! I loved the projects, especially this genderless concept you have for everything.”
“Well, take a seat in the living room, I’ll make sweet tea for us.”
“Oh, where can I leave my coat?”
“There’s a place for you to hang in behind the front door, no need to lock it, it’s an automatic lock, just close it, please.”
After the tea was ready and sweetened with copious amounts of honey, Hongjoong took his portfolio with him to the living room and made himself comfortable in front of Seonghwa, on the other side of the coffee table.
“Here’s my previous designs. You can take a look at the second half first since they’re the newest ones, and there’s a lot of tests and textures I placed next to the drawings. While you take a look, what experience do you have with modeling? Oh, and why did you choose to be a model?”
“Haha, so many questions, no?”
Hongjoong wanted to hide under the table. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just curious.”
Seonghwa looked very, very interested in his designs, so it gave him a little bit of hope, at least. His hands moved to touch the small pieces of fabric, feeling the texture of it under his long fingers. His eyes moved up and down on every page with curiosity, at first in complete silence, but then he started talking.
“It is an old dream of mine to be a model. I moved to Seoul to try out for a few smaller brands as a model but got nothing from it. There were a few things here and there but nothing that paid the bills, so I started working at a hotel near the Hangangjin station out of pure luck, I guess.” They laughed a little, Seonghwa only glancing quickly before going back to the pages. “Then I started to also work a little around Instagram, so I’m more of an influencer than a real model, but I’m still trying.”
“Really? That’s really cool, social media is still a mystery for me.”
“I know.” Seonghwa smiled. “I wanted to see your account but there was nothing of you.”
Hongjoong was a bit shy, but he tried to laugh it off. “Well, there’s some nice clothes in there at least.”
“Yes, there are. Wooyoung showed me the first project you presented at uni, he was trying to show off his own clothes but yours got my attention the most.”
The piece he was referring to was a long dress he made with the inspiration of a hummingbird. The top was navy blue with a translucent silk-like shiny green on top and a long iridescent tail split in half, giving the impression of the wings that fell all the way from the shoulders to the floor. It was beautiful, and one of his favourite pieces to this day.
“Oh, thank you, it’s one of my favourites as well. I got to keep that one, actually, do you want to see?”
“Really? I would love to!”
“Wait here for a second.”
Hongjoong was dead nervous, but he wanted Seonghwa to see something he liked in person. It was a beautiful dress, and he would never forget how amazing it was to make it with the help of his supervisors during his first internship. Currently, the dress was inside of a plastic bag, tucked under the mess of the wardrobe in his spare room.
Looking at the dress now, it made him feel even more uncomfortable with himself.
“Here.” He smiled, giving the bag to Seonghwa, who took it between his hands very carefully, eyes full of wonder.
“Oh my… Hongjoong, this is beautiful…”
Hongjoong, instead of looking at the dress, carefully watched Seonghwa’s expressions. The way his eyes were shining with the sight of the dress, how he handled the light fabric so carefully, feeling it between his fingers the same way he was curiously holding the tests he placed on the portfolio. His mouth had an ever present small smile filled with a fondness he hadn’t seen in ages, at least not towards anything he created.
It was like a knife through his heart.
“Aah, I wish I knew you back then, I would’ve asked to be your model the second I saw the project for this. You can’t believe how much I nagged Wooyoung about not showing it to me before it was done.”
Hongjoong giggled. “Unfortunately we had a fixed size to make this so I’m afraid you wouldn’t be the model for this one either way, but in the future you can always commission me.”
Seonghwa laughed a little, putting the dress away. “I’ll keep it in mind when I have enough money for something handmade. Now, about your current projects, I have a few questions.”
They talked over the details for the clothes, how they would look like, what fabric he would use, what he had in mind for the three pieces collection and what the new theme would be. Seonghwa had a few ideas of his own, so Hongjoong made sure to take notes and question what he liked to wear, what he felt comfortable with, what brands he was inspired by. Talking about work was easy when he was focused, and it almost made him feel less anxious about everything.
“There’s a lot of things to do. The love thing is the most complicated part, but I think your ideas are good. I’ll try to make something out of it.”
“Thank you. Where did this love thing even come from? Your professor just randomly assigned you with it?”
Honjoong sighed. “Basically. Everyone got a different emotion and he wants us to show it through our eyes, I think. Love is one of the hardest ones, at least for me. I showed you the drawings but, honestly? I hate every single one of them.”
Seonghwa, instead of judging or making one too many questions, just happily laughed as if he had told a funny little joke. “I’m sure we can come up with something. What do you like to do the most?”
“I’ve been- well, I’m in an art block, and nowadays I think I don’t like anything about this, but it’s just the stress, with the deadline coming up and everything.” He laughed without humor.
“We could start with a few drawings, then. You could make these ones so I’m sure you can try again. Oh, please, could you draw me? I’d love to see the sketches of a few pieces with me as the model.”
Hongjoong was a little confused at first, but then he understood that Seonghwa just wanted to help out a little, so why not? He could indulge the man to stay a while longer if that meant he could shamelessly stare at him while he made a random sketch. It was easy enough.
“Get the dress from the bag then, I can draw you wearing it, since it doesn’t fit you right now.” The way Seonghwa was so excited for something so simple was almost cute. He quickly grabbed the dress again and Hongjoong made a quick walk to his room to get his art supplies. Nothing much, just paper, charcoal and crayon.
They moved the coffee table out of the way and Seonghwa sat by the couch. Hongjoong got the dress from him and started positioning it the best way he could to give the impression of him wearing it. It didn’t have any straps so he folded the upper part and placed only the long skirt on top of his legs, asking the man to move around until he was satisfied with the position and Seonghwa was comfortable enough.
He took a seat by the floor and decided to put on some music so the silence wouldn’t bother too much. “What do you like to listen to?”
“Oh, surprise me.” As the idiot he was, Hongjoong started playing some of his own music to play as background noise.
He made a few marks on the paper to frame where he wanted the sketch to be and then moved his eyes to look at Seonghwa. The dress fell nicely around his long legs, even if he couldn’t see properly because he was still wearing jeans, obviously. His lean arms, though, were displayed with the way he used it to rest his weight, positioned just a little bit behind him. He watched his slow breathing, the up and down of his chest, the way his hair fell over his eyes, but most importantly, he watched his eyes at the same time Seonghwa watched his.
Seonghwa had the type of face and energy that would make anyone inspired enough to create another Monalisa, if Hongjoong would ever be so honest.
Drawing the man came easily, just like breathing, because he was so beautiful that he wished to frame every second of this and fill his now empty shelves. Suddenly he understood what every photographer said about making only one second to last forever.
“Here, take a look.”
“So fast!”
“Well, it’s just a sketch.”
The way Seonghwa stared at the paper made him seem to be in awe. “Wow, Hongjoong-shi… it’s- I love it! Oh, I wish I could wear this! It’s the kind of thing you see at Paris fashion week, not a university project!”
Hongjoong smiled. “Thank you, but it’s not all of that. You’ll get to wear something way more beautiful at Paris fashion week one day.”
“Hah, I’d wish!”
“I’m serious when I say this, but you’re really beautiful. I’m excited to work with you just so we can play dress up.”
The model’s laugh was much better than whatever music was playing in the back.