Can you...

make love

with one glance?

Fleeting and shy, hasty and framed with small, black, naturally curled eyelashes.

Can you...

die

with one touch?

Hesitant yet meaningful, leaving scorching hot burn marks only viewable with your own opinionated eyes.

Can you...

be reincarnated

with one kiss?

Be reborn, as a bird soaring in the open, blue skies. The tips of your once grey wings preparing to dip into light and fluffy clouds, their frame bursting into flames like an ancient phoenix waiting to come back, reinforced with hardened neon gold.

Can you?

He'd tell you yes, why of course. Junhong would answer yes in a heartbeat to all of the above and more. And if the conviction gleaming bright in his eyes wasn't enough to turn you into a whole-hearted believer, well, his pulsating heart would bear glad witness. There is always something about the presence of Yongguk. The fact that he is. Changing but never changed. It sets off a raging storm of conflicting feelings, a shiver down his seemingly straight spine, a rosy cheeked smile, a... Well... In essence, a hot mess.

And that's what he sets out to convey, bit by bit, step by step on the mundane stretched material laid out in front of him. It is always a challenge, and it was a struggle from the minute he made the decision. Alas, he is an artiste. A little more refined than the next artist. And what do artistes do? They make art. They breathe it.

But he hates thinking about it. The next exhibition.

And that buyer in his mid forties who was always there. Dressed head to toe in dry-cleaned cream -- cream coloured hair, a woolen cream sweater, cream chinos, cream penny loafers that made him age another ten years or so. Buyer number one, Junhong calls him... The artist could picture it as clear as day... At the next convention he'd be standing there, idly kicking the ground with his feet as buyer upon buyer waltzed passed his quaint stand without giving it a second glance or a second chance. Eh, he's too used to it to ever be truly disappointed. I mean, you would be used to it too if you'd spent several years just being ignored--

We digress.

He'd shiver, feeling the presence before he physically saw it, whipping around immediately to suss out the source of discomfort.

There was something alarmingly sinister about the development of buyer number one's smile. It unfurled, slowly, painfully and deliberately, to it's maximum of a satisfied smirk, and a short hum of approval would escape his lips as he scrutinized Junhong himself, not the art that Junhong had cried blood, sweat and tears to produce.

It scares Junhong. 

Not that it took much to make his knees chatter on a normal day but -- he had to admit that there was something specifically off about him. Buyer number one is not normal.

"How much is that one?" Buyer number one would always ask, looking Junhong straight in the eye, and not pointing to anything in particular. In fact, not pointing to anything at all. And the answer Junhong gave was always the same, closed and short.

"It's not for sale."