Heavy raindrops dripped onto the tile floor from Minho's overcoat and umbrella, overly loud in the quiet, empty vestibule. Dark gray light from the rainy dusk seeped through the sheer curtains and chilled the hall. Despite the warmth of his overcoat, Minho shivered as he shook the raindrops off of his umbrella and stuffed it into the bin with the others. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around, listening for which direction he was supposed to go.

When he heard the all too familiar cackle, he couldn't help but smile. Nor could he help but to follow the sound of it. A thought crossed his mind -- that Kibum's laughter would probably be his siren's call, if such a creature were to exist -- and it made him chuckle as he swept into the second gallery off the lobby.

Kibum's artwork adorned every wall, bright spots of color livening up the bland white room. Which, really, made sense to do for an art gallery, but Minho liked to think that his boyfriend's pieces were a step above the others that had graced the room before and after him.

Not that he was even remotely biased or anything...facts are facts.

Minho smiled to himself. He had always loved Kibum's work -- it had brought them together, after all. Who would have thought that him posing as a model for an art class for a little extra money would have found him the love of his life?

Life was funny that way. Not that he minded, of course.

He scanned the paintings as he passed them, having seen them all in detail as their apartment transformed into a mess of an art studio in preparation for Kibum's first art showing. As he stopped in front of one of the smallest pieces, he remembered the first day Kibum showed him his sketchbook.

"So," Kibum had said with a slight tremor in his voice as Minho flipped through the pages. "As you can see, my art style is like if Van Gogh and Yi Sumun had a love child that also painted."

He let out a nervous chuckle when Minho cracked a grin.

"That must make you the perfect artist, then." Kibum started to protest, but fell silent when Minho met his gaze. "These are really good, Bummie."

Even in the dim lighting of Kibum's apartment, Minho could see his face color. He smiled, his dimples appearing, and shook his head dismissively. "You're just saying that. To be nice."

Maybe it was the atmosphere that gave him the courage, or the glasses of wine he had had at dinner, but Minho reached out and slipped his finger beneath Kibum's chin, raising it so he could meet his eyes. "Why would I lie to you?"

When Kibum's gaze slipped from his eyes to his lips, Minho closed the distance between them.

A crack of thunder outside broke him away from the memory, and he cleared his throat as he looked around. No one seemed to notice that he got lost in the artwork -- not even Kibum.

He found his boyfriend across the room, talking to some of his guests about one of the pieces. He, like his art, stood out beautifully in any room he graced. Really, he was the focal point anywhere he went, given the confident way he carried himself and the vibrant clothes he wore.

Maybe that was his own bias talking again, but really, how could anyone ignore such a beautiful person like Kibum? He certainly didn't have the willpower...

Kibum looked his way, his polite demeanor breaking into fondness for just a second before he went back to talking to the guest. A potential buyer, hopefully. Kibum could do with a break after all of this. Minho knew he should look away -- they were in public, after all -- but he couldn't. Not right now. He just needed a few more seconds of watching Kibum in his element. When Kibum looked his way again, he gave him a smile, his eyes blinking slowly like Minho's cat used to do to convey "I love you" before his attention shifted back to his guest.

Minho turned back to the wall, his heart full as he looked at the next painting.