Chapter One
Coffee Talk
There is a paintbrush in Donghae's hand. There is also a palette in front of him, while his work in progress sits directly in front of him on its easel. For once in his lifetime, Donghae has no idea what he should be doing. Well, he knows he should be painting, but just what should he be painting?
He's not feeling depressed at the moment, so he knows that he shouldn't use too many blues. He's not angry, therefore reds and oranges wouldn't be the right fit. He also isn't exactly happy - in that case, yellow would be just all wrong.
Sighing to himself, he sets the painting utensils down on the table next to him and just stares at the blank canvas.
This is not what was supposed to happen. Donghae had specifically left this weekend open - free from any visits from friends or family or anything involved with his college studies - for himself to relax and paint. He was supposed to be using his emotions to free himself; Donghae doesn't really have emotions at this point.
That last part sounds completely strange to anyone who knows even a little about artists - all artists show their emotions in their artwork. It's what makes their art successful. So why doesn't Donghae show his emotions in his work? Well, Donghae doesn't quite know the reason.
Thinking he needs a break, Donghae quickly covers the painting palette with plastic wrap and leaves the rest of his utensils laying out on the table. Within seconds he has his jacket, hat, and boots on and he's out the door. He had no real plan, but he did know he wanted to go some place that was warm. After all, it was below 0 degrees outside. Now that he thinks about it, he really shouldn't be walking outside, alone might he add, in this weather. Anything could happen.
As if on cue, a woman stumbles into him as he's making his way towards a coffee shop a block away from his apartment. "Sorry," Donghae quickly bows.
The woman hardly acknowledges him, throwing him a glare before hurrying down the sidewalk. Rude, Donghae thinks to himself.
He enters the coffee shop, inhaling the thick scent of coffee beans. He almost sighs in relief when he looks around and sees that there are very few people occupying the tiny shop. The walls of the shop are a light brown color, not quite beige but also not your usual chocolate-brown. Hanging on the walls are a few Christmas decorations and photos of the owner and past workers who've retired. The tables are round and most of them do not have any more than two chairs. That's what the booths are for. The whole place looked very antique but elegant at the same time, Donghae noted. After living in his apartment for almost two years, you'd think Donghae would've seen this place before.
Donghae ed his jacket and took his hat off - it was getting too warm for his liking. He then began scuffing his way towards the counter, where a boy (who looked about 13) was standing near the cash register.
There's no way a 13-year-old works here, Donghae thinks, but Donghae was proven wrong when the boy looked at him and, rather blandly, said, "Hi. What can I get you?"
"Just a coffee, black," Donghae replied, pulling a bill out of his wallet and handing it to the boy.
The boy glances at Donghae and hands him his change, as if judging him for going to a coffee shop and ordering a black coffee. He was probably thinking about how boring Donghae might be, and honestly Donghae didn't know if he could disagree.
Before Donghae knew it, another boy - older than the first boy, maybe about Donghae's age, (also about ten times more attractive) sets a coffee in front of Donghae. "Thank you," he mumbled.
The boy who gave him his coffee smiles at Donghae and nods. But his smile was not a regular smile - in fact, it was huge. It showed every tooth, every inch of his gums. And Donghae couldn't help but think that he quite liked that.
•
It's two weeks later. Since the night at the coffee shop - the coffee shop with the beautiful blond boy who had a very distinct gummy smile - Donghae has completed almost thirty paintings. He has spent all of his free time painting, only stopping for school, eating, and sleeping. Though most of the paintings were of the blond's perfect teeth, Donghae still liked to think that he accomplished something.
No, Donghae does not find it weird that he's painted a stranger's meat-grinders over twenty times (he used to paint his art teacher's nose every day during lunch for no apparent reason) but he knows that others may find it weird. Maybe even strange. So he hides them in the closet in his bathroom. Donghae doesn't have many friends, but he knows that the friends he does have would never feel the need to go into his bathroom closet. They only came over to eat all the food in his fridge, anyway.
Donghae cleaned up the rest of the supplies left out in his dining room (when Donghae moved into the apartment, the dining room immediately became his painting room - he never needed the room to begin with).
What Donghae didn't want to admit to himself is that he had been thinking about the blond over the past couple weeks. The brunet was pretty much obsessing over his smile - perfect, plump lips. Pearly whites, which complimented his pink gums. The strange thing is that all the boy did was smile at him, and he already got Donghae riled up.
Donghae ran a hand through his hair and contemplated going back to that coffee shop. But for the coffee, not for the pretty male who made his coffee last time.
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