Chapter 1

Donghae knew he was going to be married to someone three years before the matter was put into motion. He had been told after he received his degree from a local art college, at the age of twenty-three.

“Why?” he asked while seating in the vast living hall of his parents’ house, his face was a blank canvas.

His parents reminded him of the fateful day when his father had been saved. He knew the story well, in fact he was at the scene when it happened, seated in his father’s car on the other side of the road. Lee Donghae was fifteen when he watched his father crossed the road, his phone at his ear – not seeing the car speeding toward him. But Donghae saw it, with his very own doe eyes. His brows creased, his mouth agape, and he banged on the window with his fists, his sketchbook dropped onto the carpet and his pencil broke into two in his tight grip. If it had hurt, he did not care. He was in utter panic. When he was able to think with some sense, he rolled down the window and shouted.

It all happened in a space of three seconds. One second when he panicked, one second when he shouted, and one second later his father was out of the car’s way, thrown to the ground forcefully.

Donghae did not see anything else except for his father and he ran out of the car, all the while his mind was in haywire. No, it could not happen, no, no, no! His mind was screaming. He could not lose someone. Not anymore, not now, not ever.

He did not lose anyone. His father came out of the incident with a sprained arm and a few scratches, superficial injuries. But, someone’s father had lost his ability to walk. A man had pushed his father out of the way but ended up wounding himself, and it was not reparable.

Donghae had seen the man once, when the ambulance had come and lifted the man onto a gurney. He grabbed the barely conscious man’s hand and placed his forehead against the back of it, thanking him profusely. The man, about his father’s age, smiled and said it was alright. Donghae had no words to say as he watched the emergency unit brought the man into the van. His father had told him that even after permanently crippled, the man and his family never blamed anyone. Since then, the family had remained close; his parents would visit and have dinner with the man’s family at least once a month.

Donghae never went with them, first few times because he was traumatized and seeing the man would make him hyperventilate as the incident was still recent, among other reasons. Other times, he made himself busy, wanting to erase all memories of that day. His parents understood him.

So, he was going to marry the son of the family, purely to keep the two families intertwined. Despite the good deed that the man had done, Donghae rejected the proposition at first. It was not until his father proposed another advantage did he agree. He would be given a gallery of his own, funded entirely by his father, and both of his parents would use their connections from their international clothing line to market Donghae’s existing and later works.

The deal was sealed and his parents stayed true to their words. A year later, his gallery was opened and another year later, he was one of the new artists to be on the lookout for. His most famous work was ‘Midnight Blues’, a painting of shadows of a man and a child with one hand outstretched toward the shadow of the man – who was walking away – while his other hand was held to pull him back. Besides the shades of black and grey for the shadows, everything else was painted a magnificent blue, varying of shades from light blue to almost black.

For three years, everything ran smoothly. He had almost forgotten about the deal. He had his own life going on, despite still living in with his parents. Sometimes he would come home; sometimes he would sleep at his gallery, which had a stack of comfortable mattress for him to rest in his personal drawing room, if he ended up wearing himself out until dawn there. He had his fair share of ‘special’ friends, nothing lasting longer than a few months. He had his fun.

Then, the time was up. Once again, the topic of marriage was broached. He only rolled his eyes, only half listening to his parents telling him about this man he was going to marry, how he was so nice to them when they came over for the dinners, how he had a very talented hand when it came to cooking, that he had furthered his study to the United States for a bachelor’s degree – reason why they had waited for three years to get the wedding into motion – and he was now a sous chef at his mother’s restaurant. They pointed out that if Donghae was a star in the paint arts, this man was a star in his career, culinary arts, that both of them appeared in magazines sometimes.

This man’s name was Lee Hyukjae.

That night, Donghae had a reservation made at a 4-star restaurant, to negotiate prices with a client who requested to buy one of the exclusive arts at his gallery. When the meeting was done and an agreement was made, the client left before him. Donghae was taking a sip from his champagne glass when out of sudden a waiter came and delivered a dessert he did not order.

“Compliment from one of our chefs. It’s a caramel glazed tiramisu.”

Donghae nodded, his face void of any expression, as usual. When the waiter had walked away, he looked at the glass. It was layered perfectly, looking mouth-watering. Strawberry was seated on top, right in the middle of it, and the top was glistening as rich caramel covered it except for the red berry. It was like an art. Donghae shrugged slightly to himself, took his spoon and indulged himself.

***

Unknown to Donghae, his soon-to-be husband was the one who made it, and Hyukjae was right behind the doors to the kitchen, peering through the round window latched on the door.

“I found you,” he whispered to himself, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“We do not serve what’s not in the menu here.”

Hyukjae turned and saw his colleague for four months now, Myungsoo, had his arms crossed on his chest. He straightened up, fixing his sleeves professionally, “It’s my signature dish, and I chose to make it. It’s a gift, not something to be paid for. I don’t think it’ll be a problem, Myung-ah,” he gave a half smile with a brow lifted.

Myungsoo sighed, “Then at least get back to your work. You’ve been all giddy for over an hour now.”

“You go to your station, Myungsoo. I know how to do my part of the job,” said Hyukjae, sounding authoritative. His colleague left and Hyukjae thought he would took another peek before heading back to his work bench to supervise the cooks. But, as he looked at the other side of the window once again, he could not find the boy he once fell in love with. He sighed, heading back to his place.

When the restaurant was closed and everything had been tidied and double-checked, Hyukjae went to his car. The first thing he did after letting the engine ran was open the dashboard and took out a laminated piece of paper. The paper had creases on it, and there was a short strip of cellophane tape on the one of the edge, having been accidentally torn years ago. But, the beauty of the drawing on the paper was preserved well. Hyukjae ran his hand on the drawing, tracing the outline of his body drawn on the paper. His hand travelled down to the corner where ‘L.D.H.’ was written.

He smiled, “L.D.H. I finally found you.”

A few hours ago, Hyukjae was walking toward the kitchen, after a visit to the loo. He had grabbed the handle of the back door to the kitchen when he heard someone said, “Reservation for Lee Donghae.”

He knew Donghae. He had been told countless time about him. Donghae was the name of his soon-to-be-groom. He had never seen him, though. Not once. There was a big chance that this Lee Donghae would not even be the one he would be marrying soon. But, his curiosity peaked, and Hyukjae strained his neck to look at the customer just a few feet in front of him in the corridor.

The man was stylish, with his shining black leather shoes, his pressed grey pants snugly hugged his legs, a soft turquoise suit jacket on top of a black V-neck shirt and his metal black watch completed the look. A stark contrast with Hyukjae, who usually put on high top converse, ripped skinny jeans or pants, jackets and shirt, with his leather strap watch that he had been wearing for four years. The sous chef almost snorted just thinking if this would be the man he would marry.

Finally, Hyukjae’s brown eyes looked up at the face of the man. First up the soft jawline, then to the cupid bow’s lips, then Hyukjae was stuck staring at the eyes. He knew those eyes, would never forget them even. Recognition dawn on him, but he just could not believe his luck. He stayed there; stock still even after Donghae had already been let inside the dining area.

A moment later, Hyukjae hastily grabbed his phone from his pants pocket, going onto Google and searched of the name. This was Lee Donghae, the famous uprising artist he had been told about, the one he was supposed to marry. But, for it to be the same boy he had fallen for more than a decade ago, his monkey’s love, the chance was zero. Then again, it all clicked.

Lee Dong Hae. The acronym would be L.D.H.

L.D.H had a skill hand for arts; Lee Donghae was an amazing painter and sketcher, based on what he had been told.

What confirmed it were the eyes. The soft and dewy eyes had tugged his heart once before and apparently once again because it seemed those eyes had stayed the same; saddened and soulless.

Hyukjae had then proceeded to do his work, replacing the head chef, his own mother. His shoes seemed to have grown wings as he walked, casually going to the door as if to check on the satisfactory level from the customers’ expression, but actually just landing his eyes on one figure for a few seconds. In the usual bustling of the kitchen crews, he managed to make the tiramisu for Donghae while still focusing on his real duty.

Hyukjae drove out and headed home, content, more so than usual. Suddenly, the arranged marriage plan that had been in-the-making for three years now did not seem to be such a burden anymore.

***

Donghae only met his fiancé of four years twice before they said their vows and signed the marriage paper. Once, when the two families properly introduced their sons to each other, Donghae finally was forced to go to the dinner visit. The second time was two months later, on their wedding day, as they prepared to walk down the aisle together, hand in hand. They did not even go for fitting together.

On the first meeting, Donghae had forced himself to smile a few times, just to please his parents and in-laws. When he had shook Hyukjae’s hand, it was more like making a business deal rather than a meeting of two people who would be bind in a marriage very soon. He did not know if his soon-to-be-husband was playing the same trick as him or was such a -up as he watched Hyukjae acted hospitable with him and his parents. At the end of it, both parents were pleased.

On the wedding, they wore matching grey suits with black bow for Donghae and a black tie for Hyukjae. They had matching cufflinks – Donghae’s had ‘L.H.J’ carved on them while Hyukjae had his initials. It was Donghae’s mom’s idea – and black Oxford shoes. Instead of looping their arms, they had both agreed on holding each other’s hand. As they walked, cameras flashed. Aside from the photographers they had hired, there were reporters attending as well, wanting to get an interview from them once the vow had been said.

“I do.”

“I do.”

“You may kiss your groom.”

At the same time Donghae placed a hand on Hyukjae’s left cheek, the other also placed a hand on his. Hyukjae shut his eyes but Donghae’s remained opened as he kissed the corner of his husband’s lips, lingering for a few seconds. Besides the two grooms, no one else knew about the fake passionate kiss. The thunderous claps that followed confirmed it. When they each pulled back, Donghae gave his newly wed husband a sly smile before he took Hyukjae’s hand and faced the cheering crowd. He noticed a falter in Hyukjae’s grin, but ignored it when the brown haired man grinned wider.

They had a small photo session outside the wedding venue and in front of their house – which was previously Hyukjae’s. They both played their part as the happily married couple well, in Donghae’s opinion. They shared another fake passionate kiss that they were sure the camera caught it at the right angle to make it look real. Mostly, the pictures were of them smiling and grinning at each other, or kissing each other’s cheeks. They were interviewed a little, and Donghae was thankful to have had good hearing and memory as he was asked about Hyukjae. The praises his parents had given to Hyukjae helped a lot.

The ceremony that started at 11am ended 9 hours later for them. They waited for every family member to leave the house before Hyukjae led him inside. Once inside, all traces of smiles were gone from Donghae’s features.

Donghae took off his coat as he looked around the white and clean living hall. He laid the coat on the back of a white couch before addressing Hyukjae, “Which room?”

The man smiled at him, puzzling Donghae as to why he was trying to act nice, “Upstairs, first door on your left. The bathroom is in the closet. Just go in and you’ll see a door leading to it. Your clothes that your mom sent are all on the right side of the closet. The kitchen is right behind here and the –”

“I’ll look around tomorrow,” Donghae cut him off, heading toward the stairs. He climbed up but stopped mid-stair, “Hey?” Hyukjae looked at him expectantly. What he was expecting, Donghae did not know nor did he bother to know. “Good acting just now. I bet everyone believes that we are in love, at least mildly. You are so good at being a fake. Now, since you are good at it, I think it would not be too hard to keep the façade up whenever you are outside, right?” He smiled mockingly before heading up the stairs, leaving his husband without hearing what he wanted to say.

[IMPORTANT: I changed Hyukjae's hair colour from black to brown] 

If it feels a bit slow, it's because it's the first chapter and I want to give a proper opening to the story. Hope it did not bore you. I appreciate arts such as paintings and stuff but I have zero talent in it and I don't really have enough knowledge on it, same goes for cooking though I can cook and have bake before. I don't even know if that caramel glazed tiramisu even exist xD I made that one up, just like I made up the Midnight Blues painting. Hopefully though, I do justice for both. I do want to show that both painting and food plating are arts. Until next time! HAPPY NEW YEAR!