“And why are we back in this dusty room again?” Kibum wrinkled his nose while poking the back of Taemin’s easel, his steps slow and uncertain--like he didn’t want to be there in the first place. “I thought I’ve made it clear that this place is cursed?”

“It’s not cursed, Kibum. You’re so dramatic.”

“It is! What if you’re back to your old self? The one to succumb to work without reprieve and get compulsive when you’re uninspired? I’m highly convinced that this classroom stores all the evil spirits of the spiteful students from many years ago.”

Taemin only snorted at his friend’s assumption, partially amused that he could think that far for a scaredy-cat. Yes, he returned to the abandoned classroom to finish his portrait, but that was only because the main art room was overcrowded. Plus, he didn’t fancy the idea of his friends seeing his unfinished artwork while he strived to complete it.

“It doesn’t feel professional,” Taemin reasoned out.

Kibum only tutted in response. “But you’re aware that you still have to present this in front of the class, yes? Professional or not.”

“Yes,” Taemin answered glumly before leaning back, skimming over his submission once he’d finished the last shadows. The mere thought of presenting Minho as a cellist in front of thirty-something students somehow made him feel apprehensive now -- would it be okay? The professor only cared about everyone’s artistic practice, so that part was bearable. But the rest? His classmates?

“There’s nothing wrong about being gay, you know.”

“I know. I am gay, Kibum. I don’t care what they want to say about me. All I want to preserve is this,” he pointed at the portrait and frowned. “This person in my drawing is an actual human. He’s a cellist with a high reputation. What if I don’t do his career justice with my barely-there skills?”

“Firstly, don’t you dare talk about my friend’s skills like that,” Kibum grunted, not having the self-degradation so early in the morning. He knew Taemin was not someone who enjoyed thinking so low of himself to boost someone else’s pride, but he certainly had something that others couldn’t achieve even after years and years of practising. It hurt Kibum every time he shook then crumpled–most of the time from the force of his own artworks.

So, instead of saying anything more, the taller man rounded the easel to take a peek at the portrait with a long, thoughtful hum. Taemin only watched him anxiously from the side, heart thumping and fingers fiddling in an uneasy pattern.

“This is good. This dude looks like Minho.”

The comment punched a helpless laugh out of Taemin, and he pinched his temple in surrender as the latter grinned. Something about Kibum’s antics never failed to make him feel better, even during the toughest of times when he so badly wanted to shut everyone out and away from his life. 

“Yeah, I’m very sure I didn’t draw Jinki.”

“I’ll catch your gay if you did draw my boyfriend, Taemin.”

The addressed man grinned easily, shook his head and brought the board closer to leave his signature on the bottom right side of his pad. It landed perfectly next to Minho’s leather shoes on the portrait.

“Don’t worry so much about it. Think of it like a fanart. Some people draw Lewis Hamilton to learn human anatomy; you draw Choi Minho to enhance your already-on-par-with-the-professionals ability. It’s normal, Tae. The world is not ending.”

Taemin straightened up and sighed. “I sure hope it doesn’t.”

Yet, the nervousness didn’t die there.

Taemin sat on the front row in the classroom as different faces showed up and started expounding brilliant ideas behind their arts, each time adding another layer of insecurity on the already insurmountable one. Most of the students resorted to scenic images and surrealistic art, all cool and unique. It was an incredible choice, given that they didn’t have to elaborate so much on practicalities and focus more on explaining language through perception.

Right after that, a girl came up with her pop artwork. As expected, she earned muffled whispers from all four corners of the classroom. They didn’t judge, no. The most they could do was stare anyway, but even that was enough to embarrass the creator.

“Great,” Taemin bit the inside of his cheek as the same girl returned to her place. That meant he was next. “They’re going to laugh at me.”

“Thank you so much, Anne.”

“Anne with an E!”

Someone yelled from the back, and everyone except Taemin snickered in unison, more with gusto.

“Yes, be quiet, Wook. One more noise and you’re out of my class. Tell that to your friends as well,” Prof Shim warned sternly. He waited until the class quieted down before continuing, “Now, please welcome our last presenter – Le