Chapter 1: Vitruvian Man

Jaehyun stared.

Not at the painting but at the boy; the boy with pink hair. He’s been staring at that particular piece for fifteen minutes now and Jaehyun wondered what he sees in it. But at least Jaehyun didn’t look weird staring in the first place. It was an art gallery, after all, wasn’t that the purpose of these places? - To stare vacantly at beautiful things?

Besides the fact that the boy was exquisitely stunning like an Old Master’s; he was also standing in front of the last of Titian’s work, his ‘Pieta’, his pink hair so bright against the dark sombre depiction of the Mary holding a dying Jesus Christ in her arms. He wore all black and Jaehyun thinks that's insane considering the fact that it was summer in Italy. He was studying it so intently that Jaehyun felt a misplaced stab of jealousy of that stupid painting. If only he could have had the same undivided attention of that boy.

Snap out of it Jung Jaehyun. He mentally chided himself, brows furrowing in annoyance. When he turned back to look at the boy he almost jolted in his seat to find him staring back.

Jaehyun tries not to swear under his breath because in all the many places he’s been to (and in his line of work, he doesn’t even remember all the places he’s been too) he swears he’s never seen eyes like those. Those big expressive eyes that look like obsidian pools deeper than the pits of hell. 

Yes Jaehyun was in hell.

Dante was right. Hell is cold because Jaehyun shivered, physically, he shook like there was a ghost walking through him or something, his teeth clatter, his bones rattle. But there’s something else that shifts within him when he meets eyes with that stranger. It's cliché and it makes him want to throw up in his own mouth but Jaehyun thinks he’s in love.

Or maybe he’s just really really attracted to the guy with the pink hair.

The moment is loaded; Jaehyun must’ve been flushed because he felt the heat spread up his neck and his ears. He hates the fact that he’s too transparent sometimes. Johnny often tells him he’s in the wrong profession. 

The stranger looked away back to the painting with a small secretive smile, tugging his crooked beanie back into place and Jaehyun thinks that’s enough of an invitation.

He thinks.

But it. He was a fool if he didn’t even at least try. 

So he stood and walked over, awkwardly shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis, shuffling towards the Pieta with weary steps.

"It’s a beautiful piece. Depressing. But beautiful nonetheless.” He spoke out loud next to the mystery guy and then he wanted to slap himself. He was never an intellectual, not when it came to art. 

“Like most things in life then.” The man chuckled, responding to him in their native tongue and it warms Jaehyun up strangely.

“I’m Taeyong.” He held his hand out and Jaehyun grasped it, surprised by how thin and callous they were. Now that Jaehyun’s up close he can see him clearly and it takes a moment for his eyes to digest how really beautiful Taeyong is. He looks like he could've inspired both manhwa artists and Michelangelo at the same time. 

“Jung Jaehyun. It’s nice to see a fellow Korean. It’s been awhile.” He sighed, it really has been awhile. Part of Jaehyun just wants to go home already. 

“You work in Venice?” He asked, quirking his eyebrows. 

“No... I’ve been working at Lyon for the past few months or so. So I’m a little... homesick.” That's really and understatement. He doesn't know why he's being so honest with a stranger but it's the way Taeyong asked. As if he wants a real response.

“Then why didn’t you just go back home?”

“Well... you see... I tend to overwork and get myself really immersed in my work so when it was finally time to go back home... the next thing you know my boss sent me to Venice with a complaint lodged in HR saying that he didn’t want burned out employees that disobeyed orders and worked overtime. So... here I am- on an enforced vacation of sorts.”

Jaehyun was kinda of sick of Europe, to be honest. The fresh air was nice and the architecture and art was lovely and he liked hearing the words roll off the tongues of the colleagues; how they spoke so rapidly, joining one word to the other like a song. A chanson really. It wasn't that hard to pick up the language. He had managed fine, picking up a more natural sounding accent when he spoke french.

But he had missed Korea, he missed hearing his mother's voice excitedly chirping about the littlest things and the food she brought him in large Tupperware's when he was too swamped with work to cook for himself. He didn't want to admit it but he kind of missed his co-workers too, the ever so loud Seo Youngho, his boss, who was loud and boisterous and generous but also kind of a pain in the . He even missed Doyoung, his beady-eyed desk mate who always had files stacked on his table and some sharp witted reply to his everyday . He missed his little apartment that overlooked a busy street in Seoul. He missed his bed. He missed the taste of soju. He missed the late night jogging by the Han River he also missed. Heck, he even missed the fat cat that was usually perched on his balcony every other morning, meowing forlornly and rather gratingly loud until Jaehyun slid the glass windows open and let him in. 

“You seem committed to your job.” Taeyong smiled and Jaehyun almost doesn't respond because he's too distracted by that smile.

“Yes. I suppose I am.” He's never really thought about it but now that he has time to ruminate about the things he has sacrificed for his job... his family, his time, his health, his safety... his non-existent love life... then yes he probably is too committed to his job. Perhaps it is best for him to take a break, maybe he can pick up a normal hobby like pottery making or... bird watching. Though it was clear that the only thing he wanted to watch now was Taeyong.

“Did you see the Vitruvian man?” Taeyong asked, referring to the special exhibit on display. The gallery had finally opened it's office of drawings and prints to the general public and the piece that immediately caught rapt attention for only being display once before, in 2013, for the masses was Da Vinci's sensational Vitruvian man. Jaehyun never understood the public interest. He appreciated the art, naturally, but the Vitruvian man wasn't a work of art. It was more of a work of science, or perhaps more accurately of mathematics. To him there were many more interesting paintings in the Galleria. Maybe he's overzealous and overthinking but to him it was just a flimsy piece of sketch Leornado probably doodled with no clear intention. Of course, he's now staring at Taeyong who might really be the real life ideal of the male anatomy. Jaehyun doesn't believe in god but clearly some higher power had some insane vision to create that. That's when the word left his lips before he could finish his thought and he cringed inside when they are out in the open.

“I’m looking at him.” He appraised the beautiful man shamelessly.

“Subtle." Taeyong chuckled, not even bothering to hide his smile. "I like people like that.”

“So Taeyong... what are you doing in Venice?"

“I’m here to find inspiration.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he glanced back at the Pieta. It was so secretive and lucid and just goddamn attractive. Maybe he really deserved this break after all. Who was he to complain?

“For what?”

“My next painting.” 

A/N: Wooooooo I'm excited for this. Thank you, guys! Like sometimes when I browse for some fic recs on tumblr and twitter and see you guys hyping Spring like it just makes my day guys. I'm also posting this AO3. I've been very sad and stressed and sick these days lol so please feed me some enthusiasm guys.