—  his teacher

there was only one class jeongguk genuinely attended. not because the teacher was the most beautiful man the nineteen year old had ever seen. absolutely not. but because jeon jeongguk loved to paint and he was effortlessly good at it too.

westcross memorial was a living, walking and breathing hellhole. the college itself was made as a tribute to the founder of this damned city. arthur lee westcross. the city however was another story whatsoever. 

you see, jeongguk's got his mother and no one else except (of course) his sister who was busy with her hippie band and hard rock music. which makes the adult mostly alone. he hardly has friends cause jeongguk has taste and an amazing talent of being rude-at-first-sight. but you simply couldn't blame him. almost half of the living population at westcross memorial were jerks.

a familiar blanket of quiet hushes and soft giggles settled in the classroom as the familiar figure of the teacher walked in. 

jeongguk simply would never stop admiring the man before him as mr.kim looked eagerly at the blooming artists before him, eyes full of those unending enthusiasm. jeongguk sometimes wished fervently for those eyes to look at him only. maybe he was selfish that way.

sitting in front of his canvas and stroking the rough, textured paper, the young artist could feel it. 

the pair of eyes staring at him but jeongguk dare not look up.

twirling the brush in front of his palette, the smooth voice of his professor's "you can paint anything you want", reached his ears. 

for a split second, jeongguk really wanted to delineate the gorgeous man before him.

drench him in shades of pastel pink and oranges with flecks of beige and dash of glitter. 

jeongguk always had perceived humans around him by the myriad shades of colours. like, his mother was a pristine grey and royal purple with her strong mind and early ageing. his sister, a bloody red and magnanimous black while his forever sad neighbour, his partner-in-crime, a monday morning blues.

oh how he just wanted to drag the brush across the canvas and paint what his heart yearned for. paint every single thing he craved for. the bright starlit sky. the foamy cerulean. the lush green meadows with mauve lupines sticking out and of course, his professor.

"you haven't started anything yet, jeongguk?" 

hues of red bloomed in his cheeks as he looked up at the fond face of his teacher. 

my god.

jeongguk felt his heart almost stop. the usual shaggy brown hair was pushed back. a sleek suit settled on his tall frame, glistening pale skin. 

jeongguk clearly resisted the urge to glide his brush through his sharp cheekbones bleeding fuchsia and lips bloated red.

"uh..sorry, mr.kim i-"

"ah, young man. how many times have i asked you? its namjoon. mr.kim sounds dumb, okay." he smiled, making pretty crescents pop from the side of his cheeks.

jeongguk bit his lip and looked down, nodding shyly as he felt the older walk past him, the smell of sandalwood and crisp paper reaching his nose.

the brunette exhaled heavily as he turned his attention on his work, running the paint dipped brush lazily on the bland canvas to create something stupid and vague. 

...

[a/n]

your least favourite author is back.

this chapter is kinda like a gift for all those who helped me surpass 2K in Conflict, i love ya'll.

my exams are ending tomorrow (yay!) and i will be updating Conflict spontaneously (be ready for that). 

i hope ya'll liked this (shit asf) chapter.

lots of love.

cassandra.