omg this is finally done. happy early halloween lmao. sorry if it feels rushed! <3

“So, you’re a fashion designer?” Hyukjae asks two weeks later, when Donghae comes to tell him about the contest and how he had planned to join (though he’s submitted his designs already and results come out in a few days). They had already silently agreed to meet up every night, Donghae talking to Hyukjae while the latter continued to paint the large mural. Honestly, Hyukjae really enjoys Donghae’s company.

Suddenly, there’s a small breeze (it had been getting cold lately) and Donghae shivers, snuggling into the jacket Hyukjae had lent him that night at the art gallery, refusing to hand it back because of how warm and cosy it was. He exhales a little, and delights in the small puff that appears, and then turns to Hyukjae.

“Well, sort of? I haven’t really done anything big enough to be considered a fashion designer…but I studied fashion in university and came here to pursue my dreams.” Hyukjae smiles at the passion in Donghae’s eyes as the man continues to talk while he simply continues to paint the smaller details of the bubbles. “That’s why I entered the contest in the first place - to get recognition, improve, and then get more recognition. I guess that’s… the reason I moved to Seoul in the first place.”

Hyukjae widens his eyes and leans back, turning to look at Donghae as he pulls his paint brush off the wall. “You’re not from here?”

“No, I’m not,” Donghae says simply. He feels a small pang in his heart that he categorises as homesickness, but ignores it and continues talking. “I’m from Mokpo. I actually just moved, like, less than two months ago.”

“Oh,” Hyukjae exclaims. He puts down his paintbrush in the water and swirls it around a bit, making sure it’s fully clean before dabbing it on a tissue. Donghae smiles warmly at the fact that although Hyukjae had just been so engrossed in painting, he’d halted just for him. “I should take you around then! If you want to, of course.”

“I’d love to, Hyukjae,” laughs Donghae. Hyukjae wipes down his paintbrush and Donghae takes the cup of water and pours it into the drain a little bit away from where they sit, something he’d started to do to help Hyukjae pack up, then hands it back to the artist who wears a grateful smile on his face. “Are you free, uhm…on Friday?”

“Yes!” Hyukjae smiles and stands up, packing up his things. Donghae follows and stands up, grinning in excitement at the thought of hanging out with Hyukjae. “You’re still coming tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course,” says Donghae easily. “I would never miss out on watching you paint!”

Hyukjae laughs and his hand is brought up to his mouth to cover it habitually. His grip on the bag full of his supplies tightens as he drops his hand.

“What are you, my biggest fan?” Hyukjae teases, and Donghae sends him a suggestive eyebrow wave before his straight face is broken by a loud, choked laugh as he slaps Hyukjae on the arm.

“You wish, loser.”

After moments of simple, teasing banter, Hyukjae leaves and Donghae turns the other way to walk back to the apartment. He feels a slight chill and pulls his sleeves a bit more so that they come over his wrists and touch the tips of his thumbs, and notices a spot of dried up pink paint on one of them. Rubbing at the paint to see if it’ll still flake off, he smiles at the reminder of Hyukjae and goes home with a warmth in his heart.

Donghae is woken up from his nap by a banging on his door from his roommate along with the call of “you’ve got mail”, then a small whoosh of something being slid under the doorframe into his room. He sits up groggily and looks over, heart practically stopping in his chest when he sees the pale pink envelope on the floor in front of the door. It practically glows in Donghae’s hopeful eyes.

He makes a dive from where he slept in the bed to the edge of the door, grabbing the pink envelope and gasping when it is indeed from the fashion show. Prying the envelope open with clumsy fingers, he pulls out the sheet of paper and drops his mouth when he reads the content over and over again in disbelief.

Clutching the single piece of paper in his hand, he runs with a bright smile on his face to go find Hyukjae and tell him the news.

“I’m not getting anything done,” Hyukjae says when Donghae finds him, laughing as the man leans against the mural happily with the paper still in his hand. “You keep distracting me!”

“Sorry!” Donghae says immediately. “I’ll shut up, promise!”

He mimes zipping his mouth, and Hyukjae hides a smile because he doubts the man will be able to stay quiet; Donghae is really quite talkative. Suddenly, as if someone read his thoughts, Donghae yells out a small “oh!” and Hyukjae laughs.

“What is it this time, Donghae?”

“I forgot to mention,” Donghae smiles bashfully and hands Hyukjae the sheet of paper. The artist takes the paper in one hand and puts down his paintbrush, running his eyes over the words on the sheet. “I was accepted. I made it to the fashion show.”

Hyukjae suddenly throws the paper a small distance away and leans in happily, pulling Donghae into a small hug. Donghae revels in both the warmth of the gesture and the warmth of the artist himself. When Hyukjae pulls back, he has a giant smile on his face.

“I was thinking,” Hyukjae starts as he reaches for the sheet of paper again, another proud smile blooming on his face. “Could I see your designs and everything? Like, your portfolio? You’ve been watching me paint this whole time and I haven’t even seen any of your work! I mean, I’d be the worst artist if I didn’t even know my own number one fan.”

Donghae scoffs and bumps against Hyukjae’s shoulder, enjoying the way Hyukjae is opening up more and joking around, because there’s just something about Hyukjae that makes Donghae giddy inside.

“Friday?” he suggests, and Hyukjae nods in excitement.

In a short moment, Donghae realises this is the happiest he’s ever been in his life. The revelation comes less like a harsh, crashing wave and more like a soft ripple that grew (and is growing) exponentially.

He looks at Hyukjae and thinks of foamy bubbles overflowing in celebration.

Donghae adjusts his coat and runs his finger through his hair one last time. He spots Hyukjae by the tunnel, who straightens up and starts to walk towards him, and Donghae just prays he looks okay, because Hyukjae sure does.

“Hey there,” Hyukjae says charmingly. It’s a plain greeting paired with a bright smile that sweeps Donghae off his feet like a gush of wind.

“Hello,” Donghae says in return. Hyukjae turns on his heel and holds his hand back for Donghae to take and look up at him expectantly, with a cheeky glint in his eye. “I wasn’t aware this was going to be a date, Hyukjae,” he remarks. Nevertheless, he takes Hyukjae’s hand and is led through the tunnel – Donghae takes a moment to admire Hyukjae’s mural again – and to the path Hyukjae usually takes home, one that’s in the opposite direction to the one leading to his own flat.

“Is there anything wrong with a date?”

“Not at all! I’m not complaining! Not at all.”

Distracted from Hyukjae’s animated guiding (“this is where I used to celebrate my birthday every year until I was twelve!”), Donghae barely realises that they’ve made it to a street market that seems to be just popular enough to have to squeeze between the crowds in order to make your way around. He marvels at the bright red lights of each stall, and finally registers that he’s rather hungry.

“It’s usually less crowded than this,” starts Hyukjae, bringing his free hand to his nape. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine! I’ve never been to anything like this, so I’m really excited.”

“Really?” Hyukjae asks, as he begins to pull Donghae through the crowd and to the food stall at the side.

They sit at a table with plastic seats just outside a small stall that miraculously happened to have no people at it. Hyukjae turns to the lady that comes up to them and she widens her eyes in recognition and a bright smile blooms on her face.

“Hyukjae?” she inquired incredulously. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

She and Hyukjae have a brief conversation and Donghae takes a moment to admire Hyukjae with his elbows rested on the table and his chin in his hands, relaxin