A/N: There will be an epilogue, but this is the last segment of the original story. Hope you enjoy it.

~*~*~*~*~

It’s been five days.

The door to the café chimes, and Kyungsoo’s head jerks up expectantly before dropping back down to foam the milk for a cappuccino. The loud chatter of teenage girls entering the coffee shop grates on his nerves more than usual. The gaggle heads to the counter, and Kyungsoo doubles down on his milk foaming task. He’ll let Jongdae take their orders.

Five days since his art exhibit. Five days since he saw Jongin stare at his painting with a stricken look on his face, and then promptly run away without even saying hello. He hasn’t seen Jongin nor his friend in the coffee shop since.

The brush off couldn’t be clearer.

Maybe it’d been a bad idea to invite him. Had the painting really been that obvious, though? The words had been on the tip of his tongue countless times in the café, but Kyungsoo hadn’t ever gotten to pay Jongin the compliment on the lively sparkle in his eyes. Had he interpreted the abstract art as an over the top confession of sorts? It was a bit presumptuous for Jongin to think it was inspired by him, wasn’t it?

Okay, so it was.

But regardless of how hard he’d tried, he was never fully satisfied with his attempt to capture the adorable bump in Jongin’s nose, or the fullness of his starlight lashes. The painting still pales in comparison to the real deal; he’d be surprised if anyone could really recognize it was Jongin. Or did he notice and get offended at his poor depiction? Maybe the boy is vain and Kyungsoo doesn’t need that kind of drama in his life anyway.

As he absent-mindedly paints the foam on the cappuccino into a bear face, Kyungsoo releases a deep sigh. No. Jongin’s not vain. He’s attentive, dashingly humble, and sweeter than pie, despite having the brilliant intellect of an honors student and devastatingly good looks of a supermodel… Kyungsoo squints his eyes closed to stop imagining his crush in all of his perfection.

Lazily, he draws tiny hearts in the foam, framing the bear face all-around. Damn, why does the rejection hurt so badly when they never dated— when he never even got a chance to pop the real question? You’re wonderful: Can we get dinner sometime?

“Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. KYUNGSOO.” He startles out of his daze and sees Jongdae giving him a pointed look. “Where are you lately, because it’s not here.”

“Sorry, I just— I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Kyungsoo apologizes. Between the dull thumping of his headaches lately and this personal distraction, he’s been off all week.

“Okay. Unable to stop thinking about the mysterious disappearance of tall, dark, and handsome?” Dae asks with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is,” Kyungsoo says, shaking off Jongdae’s hand. “He was just a customer. I was interested, he wasn’t, the world continues to turn.” He hopes if he keeps repeating it to himself, he’ll end up believing it.

The door chimes again and his head snaps up on reflex. Just an elderly couple. “Whatever you say, man. I’m here if you wanna talk.” Jongdae gives him a wry smile and pats his back once, apologizing as he accidentally zaps him. Dammit, when will this guy ever learn to harness his freakish static issue?

His shift drags on and on. Without Jongin to talk to, his eyes to drown in, his jawline to swoon over, this job kinda . He’d grown so dependent on his daily doses of sunshine in the form of Jongin’s blinding smiles and infectious laughter. He allows himself to daydream of the time two weeks ago when Jongin thought he'd lost a big assignment on his laptop. Kyungsoo, having accidentally deleted all kinds of on his art tablets before, showed him a helpful trick to restore the document. Leaning over the boy to use his touchpad, he'd been able to get so close, and when Jongin turned to thank him, Kyungsoo could've sworn they were being pulled together by an outside force... lips dangerously close and closing in...

Damn Dae's inopportune whining and refusal to ever fetch anything from the storeroom if a subordinate was around. Should've kissed him then and there, just gone for it. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

He’s sweeping the floor with only five minutes left before closing when the door chimes. Great, another last second head who’ll want a venti nonfat extra-foam soy latte with two pumps of kiss-my- syrup. With a death glare, Kyungsoo turns to greet the customer.

“Hey! How’s it--” The loud friend of Jongin’s pulls up short after taking one look at Kyungsoo’s scowl. “How’s it going?”

The pissy face disappears immediately as he recognizes the guy and stops sweeping. “I’m okay. How’s-” he stops himself from saying ‘Jongin.’ “How’s life?”

“Good,” the giant says with a mysterious smile playing on his lips. “I have something for you.” He produces a small, textured envelope with Kyungsoo’s full name on the front.

Kyungsoo politely accepts it with two hands and gives the guy a confused look.

“Jongin said you’d be getting off work about now. He’s waiting, but if you’re busy or don’t want to go, I can text him…”

Oh, so he’s supposed to read this now? He opens the envelope, enjoying the rough texture of the paper under his fingertips. Inside is a simple lilac card. In careful handwriting, reminiscent of the straight lines of the chemical model Kyungsoo’s selfishly kept hidden away on the chalkboard wall, are the words:

Special Exhibition for an Audience of One
(Sorry I’ve been MIA. I’ll explain. Hope you’ll come.)

There’s an address listed beneath it. “How long will it take me to get there?” Kyungsoo asks, already untying his gray apron and pulling up Kakao Maps on his phone.

Loud friend smiles. “It’s about a 10 minute walk.”

Kyungsoo grabs his backpack from behind the counter and pulls the giant out of the cafe to lock the door behind them. “Tell him I’ll be there in 5.”

He sprints the whole way, a goofy grin on his face and anticipation in his heart. He’s not sure what to expect, but somehow, he knows it’ll be good. Just like everything always is when he’s with Jongin.

He pushes through the wooden door that corresponds to the address and is met with a quiet, dimly lit hallway. It leads into an old theater that’s small with only about 50 seats in the room, each covered in worn red velvet. The overhead lights are off, the spotlights on the stage providing the only illumination in the room. The stage is empty except for a tall spool of white paper off to one side, and Kyungsoo’s not really sure what to do. Should he sit? Go looking for Jongin backstage?

Suddenly, there’s a tap of a microphone followed by an awful screech of audio feedback blaring over the speakers. “! Sorry! Sorry,” he hears a familiar voice filter through the room.

Kyungsoo eagerly scans the stage but still sees no one. He smiles, his lips, and yells back, “’s okay!”

“Um, thanks for… for coming. You can sit anywhere you like, by the way,” comes Jongin’s voice through the speakers again. It’s laced with nervousness, and the butterflies Kyungsoo always feels around the beautiful boy seem to flutter even faster, mimicking the giddy tension that permeates the room.

Silently, Kyungsoo chooses a seat in the middle that seems to beckon him. He sinks into the aged cushion and rubs the palms of his hands over his thighs a few times, itching with anticipation and uncertainty as he glances around the performance hall.

“First off, I’m