Author’s Note

Hello, everyone ! As a part of trying to reintroduce myself into writing again, here’s an updated version of this fic. I’m keeping the original fic up just because I think it’s kind of cool to see how much growth I’ve had since when I first wrote this little story. Anyways! Hope you guys enjoy~!  

If Seulgi were a superhero, love would be her archnemesis. The art major absolutely despises the stuff. Romantic comedies with the predictable plots (boy meets girl, boy gets girl, bleh) always made her gag. She cringed internally and externally at the sound of pet names. Exhibit A: once, she almost elbowed Moonbyul in the face after overhearing Yongsun calling the silver haired girl ‘My moon’. Exhibit B: she actually did end up slapping Seungwan in the face when a kiss scene in a movie they were watching popped up. Exhibit C: you get the idea, right?

Seulgi absolutely loathes Valentine’s Day with a fiery passion that could melt all the chocolate hearts in the world. But most of all, Seulgi couldn’t stand the cheesy, greasy pickup lines her peers so frequently used to hit on each other. In fact, just yesterday, Seulgi had been subjected to such brazen treatment. Some guy she’d never seen before in her life had walked up to her table in the student union with this annoyingly large smile nearly splitting his face in two.

“Seulgi-ssi?” He asked, wringing his hands together nervously. Somehow, he knew her name. But Seulgi paid him no mind. She’d been so engrossed in chowing down on her food that Seungwan, her best friend, had to nudge her a few times to grab her attention.

“Mm?” She glanced over at Seungwan with positively stuffed with a mouthful of her black bean burger. She followed Seungwan’s extended index finger and narrowed her eyes at the young man. Seulgi narrowed her eyes as she sized him up, trying to figure out if she’d ever seen him before. Not even a flicker of recognition came over her as she glanced over him, but that didn’t come as a surprise. Seoul National boasted a near 30,000 student body and Seulgi was just another face in the crowd. All of them were, really.

“Oh. Uh, what’s up?” Seulgi questioned, feeling slightly irritated at the intrusion. She’d just come from her chemistry class, one of her hardest courses that semester. Why she had chosen chemistry as her science credit, she will never understand but she had to get through it. Her professor had passed back their midterms and Seulgi had received a less than stellar test grade.

She wasn’t in the best of moods if the way she aggressively shoved another handful of Pringles in was any indication. What could this boy possibly want from her? Her friends had picked up on the oddity and were quietly waiting for the scene to unfold. Eunhae was whispering in Eunji’s ear, who was whispering in Seungwan’s ear. Yongsun and Moonbyul watched on in silence, munching on their food, though they seemed interested in what was going on.

“Uh, I, um…,” he trailed off sheepishly. Seulgi raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not amused at whatever the boy was trying to get at. Was this going to turn into some kind of public confession? Seulgi despised those. She felt the prickle of her friends’ eyes on her as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Look. I’m sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of-” but before Seulgi could even finish her sentence, she was cut off by the boy.

In an apparent burst of courage, he in a deep breath and bellowed, “Ah! Seulgi-yah! Vogue just called, they want you on the cover!” The entire second floor of the student union building stilled at his outcry. Everyone seated at Seulgi’s table exchanged wide eyed looks, clearly shocked at what had just occurred. Nothing seemed to move. Until Moonbyul smacked Seulgi on the shoulder with a loud wheeze, that is.

As if on cue, the rest of Seulgi’s friends erupted into fits of laughter that ricocheted off the building’s walls while the rest of the student body slowly went about their business again. Seulgi clenched her fist, sending a shower of Pringles crumbs over her plate. She was acutely aware of the increasing number of eyes trained on her and her table. Seulgi wanted to track down that boy and give him a good wringing out.

She hadn’t seen that boy since that fateful event, but Seulgi knew he was out there somewhere. And if she ever spotted him on campus...well, that would be a story for a different day. There were fewer things in this world Seulgi hated more than cheesy pickup lines. Yes, indeed.

Even as a child, Seulgi had shied away from any form of affection. At the age of five, she developed an uncanny knack for refusing hugs and avoiding kisses from relatives. Eventually, everyone got the hint Seulgi was not the same touchy-feely, lovey-dovey child her cousins were.

Although her parents assured others their daughter was merely going through a phase she would come to grow out of, Seulgi proved them wrong time and time again. After a few years, they let her be and she stopped dodging family gatherings when she became old enough to put up a fight.

Her aloof attitude towards love and affection is the main reason why Seulgi damn near walks out of her art history classroom the next day. Her professor finally announced the class’s assigned art studies for the semester and Seulgi finds herself filled with rage. The piece she’d been given to do her project on was The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, arguably one of the most critically acclaimed romantic themed pieces of all time.

Seulgi had been hoping for one of Van Gogh’s or Picasso’s numerous works to save her from dealing with anything too amorous in nature. The Kiss was the epitome of everything Seulgi’s ever stood against: love, romance, affection, all of the above. Perhaps that’s the reason why her professor assigned it to her, to force Seulgi into studying the blatant romantic themes surrounding the piece. After all, Seulgi had been pretty blatant about her disdain for all things tenderness and passion throughout the duration of the art history class.

Seulgi wasn’t one to back down over something she believed in so firmly. She often spoke out against her peers and her professor during class discussions over the matter. Seulgi likes to argue that Soojung, one of the peers she usually butts heads with, starts it half the time.

**

At the beginning of the class, they focused on artists and their muses. It wasn’t uncommon for artists to be enraptured by a certain figure in their lives and base their art around them. But Seulgi kind of curdled up and died inside during this section of the class and frequently rebuffed the idea underneath her breath.

“Everyone has a muse, Seulgi,” Soojung muttered. “What’s your deal?” Seulgi watched with steely as she shook her head, the corner of her lip curling up in disagreement. Fair enough, Seulgi thought to herself. She was more than ready for a challenge.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Soojung,” she quips, the underlying tone of her voice a tad bit snarky. “I’m merely saying that not everyone’s muse has to be a person. Especially someone they’re romantically involved with. It’s possible for inspiration to spark from everywhere, right?”

“That’s quite enough,” their professor spoke up from the front of the studio. Her voice effectively silences the bristling girls into dropping their argument. But ever since that day, Seulgi swore the professor brought up more romantic themes just to gauge her reaction towards it. Or perhaps she was merely imagining things - Romanticism had been a genuine artistic movement, after all. She swore to Seungwan that the professor truly was keeping an eye out for her, though.

**

Whatever, Seulgi told herself, gritting her teeth at her assignment sheet. At least I won’t have any issues making the five page minimum. Seulgi was certain she’d have loads to discuss in her paper.

By some of a miracle, she manages to keep her emotions in check for the rest of the class. She opts for silently fuming as her professor goes over examples of the assignment to give the class an idea of what they were in for. The moment she and Seungwan step out of class, Seulgi groans.

“What the actual ery is this?” Seulgi exclaims, unleashing her frustrations. Even in the overly crowded corridors of the art and architecture building, her dissatisfaction rings loud and clear to anyone milling about. But Seulgi could genuinely care less about the confused looks being thrown their way. She had The Kiss to deal with. “Why does the universe continue to prove it’s out to get me?” She yells, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Seungwan snorts, struggling slightly to keep up with her friend’s long legged pace. “You know, usually, art majors are absolutely ecstatic to be studying...art,” the Canadian says, tossing her a lopsided grin. “What do you mean? I love my major. I’m just not a huge fan of all the romance-y bull, that’s all,” Seulgi rolled her eyes. She pulled out her phone and typed something out quickly. “The Kiss seems like one of the world’s biggest cliches out there for all those fanciful notions.”

Seulgi s her phone into Seungwan’s face, Klimt’s piece flashing across the screen in bright, bold yellow hues. “Look at it,” Seulgi scoffs in disgust, jabbing an accusatory index finger at the artwork. Seungwan squints her eyes at the display, trying to avoid getting a phone screen straight to the face. “It’s gold leafed for god’s sake.” Seungwan pushes her hand away, giving her a pensive look as they push out of the building and into the chilly autumn air.

“Aren’t art majors supposed to be a little lovey-dovey and romanticize all sorts of things? Like how some of those really famous pieces depicting historical events aren’t actually how they went down at all?” Seungwan retorts, expression turning thoughtful. “Anyway, wasn’t it Klimt who proclaimed that, ‘All art is ’? In the lessons we had over his stuff last week?”

Seulgi lets out another inhumane groan. She fixes her scarf to cover half her face in a feeble attempt to protect herself from the unrelenting cold. “That has to be the cheesiest I’ve ever heard,” Seulgi complains. “Also, I hate that cliche about artists. I mean, just because I can draw well doesn’t automatically mean I can win somebody’s heart or something.” Seungwan side-eyes the taller woman and snickers, “Yeah, because your sunshine attitude sure does get you all the girls at Seoul National, huh, Seulgi?”

They join the throng of students moving from class to class, making their way to the student union for lunch. “What...what’s that supposed to mean?” Seulgi mutters, jamming her hands in her jacket pockets. Seungwan whistles through her teeth. “Nothing,” she responds quickly. And then to change the subject, “What do you want for lunch today? Chipotle? Or did you want to hit up the Thai place nearby?” Seulgi’s still giving her an incredulous look as Seungwan steers them down the street and towards the corner store restaurant.

**

“I can’t ing believe you got Van Gogh,” Seulgi mutters sleepily. It’s the next day, bright and sunny on a Thursday morning. She and Seungwan are waiting at the bus stop near their apartment complex, waiting to make the trip over to the Seoul National Art Museum. It was best to start working on their assignment as early as possible, seeing as they wouldn’t have as much free time within the next few weeks. But that didn’t mean Seulgi had to like it.

The dull autumnal sun had yet to peek out from behind a thick swath of clouds. The gloomy sky matched her disposition perfectly. Seulgi woke up still fussing over her bad luck at getting The Kiss and grumbling over the fact she hadn’t had time to grab any coffee before they walked to the bus stop. Luckily, Seungwan had the foresight to bring along a trusty set of earbuds to drown out her friend’s complaints.

She pretended to nod along to what Seulgi was saying, though she was really bobbing her head along to the beat of Kim Taeyeon’s latest released album. Realizing her friend was tuning her out, Seulgi huffs in frustration. She watches as a brown, tattered maple leaf stubbornly slides across the street. A frown weighed down on her features.

Her mood wasn’t only being affected by The Kiss, it was also the chilling cold that was creeping up her extremities. As much as Seulgi adored the changing of the seasons, she always seemed to forget just how cold Seoul could get this time of year. She cursed at herself internally for forgetting to snag a pair of gloves before heading out. At this rate, her fingers were going to freeze off and she’d wouldn’t be able to take any notes at the museum.

She scowled, her mood somehow managing to sour further than before. Seungwan innocently scrolled on her phone beside her, seemingly completely immune to the biting weather. Seulgi cast a sideways look at her friend, noting the thin windbreaker Seungwan had pulled over her cream colored cable-knit sweater with a sense of respect washing over her. It had to be the girl’s Canadian roots that allowed her to still feel so warm in such withering conditions. Seulgi was shivering underneath her wool overcoat and thermal turtleneck.

Thankfully, the bus pulls up to their stop a few minutes later. Its rumbling engine and churning wheels send batches of fallen leaves twirling through the air like a band of ballerinas. Seulgi’s fingers itch to sketch them out, but she refrains. If she drew everything she had an urge to, she’d never stop drawing. The pair ascend the steps and relish in the dizzying humidity of its heated interior. Seulgi can’t help the feeling of impending doom that crashes over her as she and Seungwan slip into a set of seats near the back of the bus.

“Seungwan, will you please switch pieces with me?” Seulgi asks for the thousandth time. The desperation in her voice is plain as day as Seungwan winds and unwinds her fingers through the thin cord of her earbuds. She swallows a lump building up in . “I’m not even sure I can start this assignment without throwing up,” she whines. It’s a half truth. Seulgi had once been so repulsed by a particularly cheesy k-drama scene that she’d actually thrown up. At the time, Seungwan was excitedly shoving mouthfuls of popcorn in her face and elbowing Seulgi in the ribs.

“Look, look!” Seungwan had sung, completely oblivious to the way Seulgi’s face was turning a sickly shade of green. “Seulgi! They’re finally about to kiss, oh my god!” According to Seungwan, she’d merely thought Seulgi was expertly reenacting the sound effects of throwing up. When in fact, Seulgi had actually rushed over to the bathroom with a hand clamped over .

“Seungwan, I will literally buy you an entire boxed set of the latest Copic pens if you switch with me. I’d take anything over The Kiss! Please!” Seulgi whined, fingers weakly gripping Seungwan’s shoulder. One of Seulgi’s many, many quirks was that she was always used to getting her way. Seungwan bit back the urge to start giggling at the forlorn expression on Seulgi’s face. “You know, I would, but our professor told me after class before you barged out that if you tried to swap with anyone else, she’d fail you,” Seungwan warned.

Seulgi’s eyes widen comically in fear, her confidence rapidly deflating. The one thing Seulgi treasured in this world was the spotless 4.0 GPA she’d maintained for the past two years of her college career. She’d somehow equated graduating Summa Laude as showing her family she wasn’t just some airheaded artist. Seulgi couldn’t afford to fail, let alone get a B or C. With her GPA at stake, as much as she hated to admit it, Seulgi knew she had no other option than to stick with the cursed The Kiss.

“So I’m stuck with Klimt and his romantic bull?” Seulgi murmurs weakly, peering down at her friend with defeat shining in her eyes. Seungwan bites at her tongue. “Yep.” She turns to stare out the window, popping her earbuds back in. “It’s just you and all the romantic bull today,” she murmurs underneath her breath.

Seulgi leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest, brooding quietly. “This might be good for you,” Seungwan offered up, trying to boost her best friend’s morale. “I mean, you obviously have a lot to say about the painting already. It might not be so bad.” Seulgi grimaces. “Maybe you’re right,” she says lamely, though she doubted it.

**

Although Seulgi recognizes she’s being a complete, utter baby about completing this project, she still refuses to let go of Seungwan’s arm. She clings to her as a child clings to their mother during a temper tantrum, begging Seungwan not to leave her. It’s not one of Seulgi’s proudest moments per se, but her stubbornness doesn’t falter. Her fingers remain tightly wrapped around Seungwan’s straining bicep, holding her friend in place even as she struggles to break free.

“Seulgi, I have to. The Van Gogh exhibit is on the other side of the museum!” Seungwan hisses, prying desperately at Seulgi’s vice-like grip. “You’ve got to face Klimt all by yourself, anyway. It’ll build character,” she grunts out. Seulgi was much, much stronger than Seungwan anticipated. “Look, how about we meet up after we’re done taking notes?” Seungwan offers. “I’ll even buy you something from the gift shop if you’ll just let me go. For chrissake!”

The pair of college students are causing a bit of a scene at this point. Two fully grown women struggling against each other in the middle of the museum’s vast lobby. They looked like toddlers fighting over the possession of some toy on a pre-school playground. A family of four walks by and even the youngest, an actual toddler, throw them concerned looks.

After a few more minutes, Seulgi lets go because deep down, she knows Seungwan is right. The Canadian had threatened to throw both her notebook and sketch pad at her if she didn’t let go. But Seulgi was more concerned with the security guards eyeing them from behind the check-in desk.

Finally free from Seulgi’s ironclad grip, Seungwan smooths the creases out of her dress shirt. As if comforting a child, she reaches out and gives Seulgi a light, supportive squeeze on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” Seungwan murmurs, peering up at Seulgi’s sulky pout. She rolls her eyes at her friend’s antics and playfully punches at her arm. “Look, I promise looking at one romantic painting for half an hour isn’t going to kill you,” Seungwan laughed.

With one last smile, the Canadian strode across the lobby toward Van Gogh’s exhibit and disappeared around the corner. Seulgi watched her retreating figure with a tiny scowl tugging at her lips. “That’s easy for you to say,” she mutters underneath her breath. Taking a deep breath to ease her nerves, Seulgi turns in her heel and sorrowfully follows the signs pointing out Klimt’s display. Dread slowly pools in her gut with each tiny shuffle she makes towards her final destination.

Much to her surprise, the exhibit is practically empty when she walks in. Save for the lone security guard standing alert in the back of the room, Seulgi is Klimt’s only spectator. It was insanely early in the morning, Seulgi reasoned with herself. That must be why the museum seemed so echoey and empty. For some ungodly reason, Seungwan insisted they arrive the moment the museum opened for the day. It was barely nine o’clock now and Seulgi was still fighting back the urge to let her eyelids droop shut.

Finding some solace in being alone, Seulgi let herself wander into the middle of the room in search of The Kiss. The security guard seemed to pay her no mind, staring ahead at the wall with a blank look in his eyes. It was probably early for him, too, Seulgi smiled. Finally, she spots it, mounted on the far right wall right next to the exhibit entrance. It’s almost larger than life, much bigger than Seulgi anticipated it.

The photographs she googled really didn’t do The Kiss justice. Although Seulgi hated the primary subject matter (aka, love, gross) she found herself drawn to the vibrant colors, the gilded frame, its glittering gold leaf, and slivers of silver and platinum. She had to hand it to Klimt, he really knew how to take someone’s breath away. She ambles over to the giant painting and flips her notebook open. With her pen poised at the top of a blank page, she stared up The Kiss in all its glory.

The goal of her assignment was to write about what emotions the artist successfully (or unsuccessfully) encapsulates in the piece they created. She’d have to go in depth about how the artist’s work affected others starting from its completion date to modern day audience. Seulgi was also required to describe what emotions she felt while studying the piece. Quickly, she jots down her first honest impressions of the piece.

She’d done a bit of cursory Google searching on the painting before today and quickly recalled what she’d read from the few websites she’d clicked on. “The Kiss depicts an embracing couple kneeling in a grassy patch full of