SOME - SOYU & JUNGIGO

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-FhDScM_2w

By the time Mingyu had arrived home, it had already been late into the night with the moon hanging brightly above the sky. Seeing that the whole house was pitch dark, Mingyu turned the keys silently to the door and crept inside so that he wouldn’t wake you up. To his pleasant surprise, once he kicked off his shoes he had noticed the door to your room was slightly creaked open. Seeing the dim light spilling out from the open doorway, Mingyu quietly walked over to see why the lights were still on. Usually Hari would be in bed by now, tuckered out from whatever she had spent her day doing.

When he peaked inside, he noticed a familiar figure seated in front of her easel, staring at the canvas that was presented in front of her with a deep look of concentration on her face. He could see that she had already started her painting, though he hadn’t any idea what she was trying to go with it. As far as he could see, the canvas looked as if it was nothing but a portrait of smeared paint lines. Hearing her mutter her annoyance to herself made Mingyu’s lips tingle, as he straightened himself up to get a better observation of what was going on.

All at once, when he realized what she had been doing, he started to chuckle. Hari had lifted one of her feet up, and stuck between her toes was one of her paintbrushes. Ah… so since she couldn’t use her right arm, she was attempting to use her feet instead of practicing with her left hand. That makes a lot of… sense?

Mingyu crossed his arms, smiling wider when he heard her let out a frustrated huff. Hari was a patient person, but when it came to her own things, she had tendency to rush through her work. Maybe it’s time he chided her for her short fuse, since a short fuse would not be good for an artist. On Earth, you would need to have a strong fuse to survive or else the fire will burn out with a simple touch.  

“I can’t do anything right. I might as well join the damn circus and live my life serving to monkeys,” you muttered, staring at the crap that was in front of you. After coming home from your hangout with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, you had been left with a sadness that you couldn’t quite explain. As much as you tried to force yourself to sleep, sleep refused to come. So, recalling the conversation back with Rijin a few days ago, you decided to do some research on some artists who painted without using their hands.

One man in particular caught your interest. Huang Guofu was a well-known artist in China who did not paint with his hands, but instead mastered the skill of painting his portraits with his mouth and right foot. According to sources, Huang had lost both his hands in a childhood accident, resulting to the amputation of his arms. As you researched on all the portaits he had done, it inspired you to try out the technique as well. You set up the easel, cleaned your paintbrushes, and began to dab away.

Even though Huang had lost his arms, he had never lost his will or spirit to follow his dreams. Despite the loss of his arms, Huang greatly believed in the theory that ‘when life closes one door to you, it must have opened another at the same time’. With that in mind, you decided to give painting with your foot a try. Since you hadn’t been able to focus on your paintings for a while, this would be a great practice for the future. 

As you flicked and dab and smeared away, the canvas in front of you eventually turned into a muddy swamp of colours that seemed to look more like swirls of diarrhea than a portrait of yourself. As the minutes went by, the canvas grew darker in colour and was beginning to turn into something opposite than what you had hoped it to be. If anything, it looked as if you were trying to paint back an LSD trip.

It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat loudly did it steal your attention away from the LSD trip portrait. You gasped from the surprise noise, wondering when the hell did Kim Mingyu step through the door and why hadn’t you heard a thing?

“Mingyu, you scared me!” You pulled a face, holding your good hand to your heart.

Slowly, Mingyu opened the door wide so that his entire face could be seen in the light as he stepped in. The smell of chrysanthemums welcomed him in as he breathed in your scent, feeling every part of your warmth seeping into his skin as his body adjusted to the house temperature.

Your scowl faded away, as you noticed all the dirt stains and grease on his face as he grinned at you. His boyish features, seeming to have matured slightly since the first day you met him.

Instead of sitting down on your bed, in case he got your sheets dirty, Mingyu walked over to where you sat and stood next to you. His eyes darted towards the canvas, studying the foreign image as if it was trying to convey something to him.

“This is nice… I’m really getting an edgy feel to it, noona. It’s very dark… I can almost sniff out the musky scent emanating from the canvas. I am impressed,” complimented Mingyu, his face a serious mask.

You reached out and gave him a slight punch in the arm. “Liar! What do you mean you are impressed? This is . I don’t even know what I was trying to go with it,” you sighed, staring back at the swirly poop that you saw in front of you.

“Assuming that this is your first time painting with your feet, I will give you acknowledgement that it isn’t… the greatest. But… I can really see where you are going with it…” He glanced down at you and grinned widely, making your heart falter for a millisecond as you stared into those warm brown orbs of his. “You were trying to paint yourself, right?”

Your mind went blank for a moment, entranced by that smile of his. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Wait, hold up, how did you know? This looks nothing like me… it looks like poop on a stick or something.”

Mingyu studied your face, then the portrait, then back to you. He nodded affirmatively, “Yeah it looks like you.”

You let out an offended gasp, “Are you saying I look like poop?!” You wanted to throw something at him, but nothing was in your reach.  Plus with the paintbrush between your toes, you couldn’t really move in fear that it might drop and send the dirty brush across the room, smearing your wooden floors along with it.

Seeing the puzzled look that had crossed your features as you stared at your foot, Mingyu put two and two together and laughed. Bending down, Mingyu helpfully took out the paintbrush that was wedged between your toes and laid it down on a newspaper that was on the ground. He was waiting on a thank you, but instead all you did was glower at him. Smirking, Mingyu raised an eyebrow and said, “You see this? This is what nice people do.”

A wave of deju vu hit you, reminding you that this was one of the first few things that Mingyu had said to you when he first landed on Earth. Instead of b