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A few days pass, leaving the weekend to flurry past with subtle warmth, giving way to an onslaught of text messages, phone calls, and an abrupt outing to meet Hongjoong for coffee.

Seonghwa was fully entranced by Hongjoong and how calm he made him feel, always eager to leave his home for the sake of seeing Hongjoong, appreciating how tender and gentle he became at any mention of Seonghwa's mother. Seonghwa had expressed that he went back to see his mother every weekend, explaining the routine, the paperwork, the sense of finality in every visit, wondering when the last one would come. Hongjoong had been supportive with every word, calming the male down and offering affirmations that seemed to act as a balm to his soul.

Hongjoong was persistent in his behaviors and mannerisms, remaining close and providing Seonghwa a shoulder to lean on when the tides of the world felt to be too much to bear. They talked often, over text, through a call, even in person, spending as much free time as they were able. They hadn't kissed again since that night near the river, but Seonghwa could tell that Hongjoong wanted to, but he couldn't hide how much he wanted to, too.

Today, Seonghwa was on his break when he eyed the time, noting that Wooyoung's class had just been released for the day. So, he rises from his chair, taking his phone along with him as he saunters over, leaving his door ajar, peering into Wooyoung's classroom with a smile. There he was, just like Seonghwa had thought, settled at his desk, his brow furrowed, watching something on his laptop.

"You look focused," Seonghwa murmurs, watching as Wooyoung's eyes dart upwards, a smile soon smoothing over his lips.

"Watching the practice footage from earlier," Wooyoung replies, taking a breath as he reaches a hand down, pressing a button on his laptop. "It's heart-warming to see the student's growth in such a short period of time, that's all. Even in just a few months."

"I can imagine," Seonghwa replies, tilting his head slightly as he observes Wooyoung, nearly hesitating in his question.

"Well, what brings you by, Hwa? Something important?"

"I– uh, yeah–" Seonghwa forces a smile, trying to think about the proper way to initiate any of this. He was new to this whole friend thing, and coordinating something as small as this, felt incredibly alien. He wasn't completely sure if Wooyoung would even want to, nor if he was available to, but he figured it was worth a shot, anyway. "I was just stopping by to ask if you wanted to, uhm– head for lunch with Joong and I? San can come too, if he wants."

For a moment, Wooyoung contemplates, standing there idly as he ponders, but it doesn't take long at all before a smile weaves its way onto his lips. His smile is infectious, his eyes alight with a friendly glimmer that somehow wove a smile onto Seonghwa's lips absently. Wooyoung had always been an overly friendly soul, graced with a heart of pure gold along with a comedic tongue, his sarcasm being one of the brightest parts of his personality. Seonghwa didn't know what happened in his past, but he could tell that San seemed to have some sort of grounding effect on the male, both calming him down and inspiring him, but always seeming to support his ideas, both crazy and exceptionally ridiculous. But, that's just how Wooyoung was, Seonghwa supposes. He was spontaneous and loud, but overly affectionate and sarcastic. That's just what made him, him.

"Of course!" Wooyoung replies, moving to round his desk, approaching Seonghwa with some newly forged vigor. "Sannie needs a break, anyway. He's been drinking too much coffee and brooding around in his office, so it's a perfect excuse for me to force socialization on him today."

"You act as if he hates socializing," Seonghwa responds with a quip, earning a chuckle from Wooyoung in turn.

"He doesn't, you're right, he's just particular some days. But, he needs a break, and he'll come regardless of if he's in the mood or not, especially if I ask him to. He never says no to me," Wooyoung says with a near-proud smile, leaning closer to Seonghwa. "Plus, his class just got out I think around an hour ago, so he's got nothing on his agenda."

"How can you be so sure?" Seonghwa asks, watching as Wooyoung's smile widens.

"Like I said, he never says no to me, and I've gotta keep an eye on him, making sure he takes care of himself. He's a workaholic, and without me, he'd run himself into the ground."

"He sounds like Joong, maybe a bit more extreme since he's a business professor."

"Oh, they're very similar. It's a bit scary," Wooyoung comments, reaching for his pocket, freeing his phone. "I'll call Sannie and ask for him to come to the Arts building. Is Joong free yet?"

"Yeah, he is. I'll go let him know that we'll be leaving soon." Seonghwa offers a smile as Wooyoung offers a thumbs up, pulling his phone to his ear as the line rings.

Turning on his heel, Seonghwa moves out of Wooyoung's room and heads down the corridor, spotting the familiar ajar door of Hongjoong's class, purposely left open as soft music leaves the space, floating out into the hall. Peering inside, Seonghwa spots Hongjoong at his desk, scribbling something down in a notebook of his, something that seemed like a diary, almost. He never did tell Seonghwa what was inside the notebook, but he was adamant that they were genius secrets.

"Hey," Seonghwa says, taking a few steps closer. Hongjoong pauses his scribbling, looking over at Seonghwa, a smile softening on his lips as he watches the male's approach. "Wooyoung is calling San about coming along. Still okay to go out for lunch?"

"Of course I am," Hongjoong replies, leaning away from his notebook after closing it. "This is almost like a double date that you're setting up, Hwa."

"What if I want it to be?" Seonghwa teases, slightly tilting his head, stopping a pace or two away from Hongjoong's desk.

The male smiles, placing his hands on the arms of his desk chair before he rises out of his seat, approaching Seonghwa slowly, reaching a hand out to gently entrap the male's within his own. "Then it can be. I won't say no to that."

"Do you think they've caught on?" Seonghwa asks, smiling when he hears Hongjoong chuckle.

"Oh, absolutely not. Wooyoung is oblivious."

Seonghwa nods, nearly about to speak again when he hears Wooyoung's laugh emanate from outside in the hall. Hongjoong shakes his head, almost in disapproval, earning a soft laugh from Seonghwa. He turned back to face Hongjoong, wetting his lips before speaking again.

"So, another date, huh?" Seonghwa asks, raising a brow. "That's, what– number four?"

Hongjoong nods, squeezing Seonghwa's hand. "It is, in fact. Why do you ask?"

"Just. . . curious about how we're labeling this when we tell Woosan," Seonghwa explains, feeling a trickle of nerves bundle on the back of his tongue. "I mean, it doesn't have to be labeled, but I just kind of figured. . . after all these dates and what not–"

"I'd say we're dating, wouldn't you?"

Seonghwa's face floods with color, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he looks away, feeling as Hongjoong pulls him closer. He assumed that exact thing, he just never truly wanted to speculate without hearing confirmation, especially since his last relationship had gone so awry. Hongjoong was different, though. He wasn't anything like his ex, and likely never would be.

"I mean, I– didn't really want to. . . assume."

Hongjoong's expression softens, squeezing Seonghwa's hand again before raising his opposite hand, cupping the side of Seonghwa's face as he leans closer, letting his eyes lull and his voice tumble into a murmur. "Well, I want this. Don't you?"

"I do–"

"Then we're dating, Hwa."

Seonghwa smiles, faintly and softly, nodding his head slightly. "Okay."

"Good," Hongjoong replies, leaning an inch closer. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Who said you ever needed permission?" Seonghwa asks with a slight arch of his brow, earning a smirk from the other in return. Assured, Hongjoong leans through the remaining distance, allowing a delicate, effortless kiss to connect their lips, momentary and chaste, but affectionate all the same.

"You're growing bold," Hongjoong murmurs as he leaned away, watching Seonghwa with a glimmer of warmth. "I'll admit it, though. I think it's a good look on you."

"Was I not bold before? At least. . . somewhat?" Seonghwa asks, earning a soft smile, something tinged with light jest and familiarity, yet so utterly soft that it made his heart melt.

"Hesitant? Yes, but bold? Not quite. But seeing you like this, so sure, so suddenly confident, it's a fair contrast to how I first met you, and I'm glad that you feel comfortable enough to act like this," Hongjoong explains, reaching up, brushing a strand of hair behind Seonghwa's ear. "It's not a bad thing either. Any of it. Not being bold, or being overly bold. You're just you, and I like that the most about you, Hwa."

Seonghwa feels as his cheeks deepen in blush, causing a smile to break out against his lips, curving upwards as his eyes seek and search for some sort of answer, something that urged Hongjoong deeper into this moment. The connection, the slight tether and growing bond; it was overly apparent to Seonghwa now that this wasn't just a fling. There was something real burning here, something that needed to be catered to, burning away between them with a tender care that was mutual on both ends.

"Thank you," Seonghwa says quietly. "Hearing you say all of that, it's relieving in a way."

"Relieving?"

"Yeah, I just–" Seonghwa takes a breath, pausing, trying to figure out the correct way to word any of this. "My ex. . . he was never great with words in the way you are. Hearing you say this, even just something stupidly cute about being bold, I don't know, it warms my heart. That's all."

"Well, then–" Hongjoong says, almost with a cocky, brazen smile. "I will keep flattering you, no matter how much blushing or shying away you do. You've unlocked a door that withholds all of my charm, and now prepare for it all to be unleashed upon you."

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "God, what did I bring upon myself? You? Charming your way into scoring another date with me, especially after dealing with two of the most in-love people we both know?"

"Woosan has nothing on us," Hongjoong says, raising a brow, smirking all the same. "We're quiet, keep our relationship to ourselves. They're overbearing at times, overly affectionate, and kind of gross. We're just us. That's all we have to be, right?"

"Right," Seonghwa replies, taking a step backwards, pulling Hongjoong along with him by their entwined hands. "Now, c'mon. Don't make me face Woosan alone."

"I can barely stand them alone, and I would never make you do that," Hongjoong says, earning a chuckle from Seonghwa.

"Then come on, quit procrastinating," Seonghwa pleads, leading him further, letting his teeth sink into his lower lip.

"Alright, alright–" Hongjoong surrenders, falling into step, carefully drawing Seonghwa back towards his side. "You've convinced me."

"You already agreed to go," Seonghwa mutters, which earns a nod from the other.

"I did, didn't I?"

"Yes–" Seonghwa glances at him, pausing right before the elder's doorway.

A sudden flurry of steps rings closer, almost in a manner that was too quick for Seonghwa to properly react before he turns, watching as Wooyoung rounds the corner, phone in hand, eyes widening as he looks down to see Hongjoong's hand entwined with Seonghwa.

"You're–?!" He pauses, lips parted to speak before deftly closing, a smile soon weaving through afterwards. "You sneaky boys. I knew something was going on."

"Did you?" Seonghwa asks. "Was it that obvious?"

"He took you to his special spot," Wooyoung says with a dramatic pout. "I don't even know where it is."

"One day, Youngie," Hongjoong says in a soft murmur, trying to defuse the ticking time bomb that was Wooyoung's child-like patience.

"Sannie is on his way." Wooyoung puts his phone away, gesturing back to his room. "Just came by to tell you hooligans that the plans were on, but it seems like you two would've had plans regardless."

"Maybe," Seonghwa attests. "Go get your stuff. We'll meet you in the lobby."

Wooyoung nods, a soft roll of his eyes followed by some sort of mischievous smile completing the look, explaining all that needed to be said wordlessly. With a breath, Seonghwa tugged Hongjoong out into the hall, watching and listening as the male reached for his door and locked it, placing his small keyring into his pocket before falling into stride with Seonghwa. They lazily walk down the campus corridor, listening to the faint murmurs of footsteps and machines humming in the distance, causing a slight smile of contentment to curl on the edge of Seonghwa's lips. It was oddly quiet at this hour, though Seonghwa didn't really mind it. The peace that came from just being with Hongjoong, especially in a manner such as this, had been everything he could ask for. He didn't really wish to be left alone to deal with his mind anymore, and he was sure that somehow, Hongjoong could sense that, which made their relationship all that much easier to settle into.

"What do you want to do after lunch?" Hongjoong asks, adjusting his hold on Seonghwa's hand lightly, though not daring to remove his hand from the other's.

"Well, I've got no other classes today, so I think I need to try and paint something, only so I can prepare for final exams and whatever. I need to have something physical for them to match or draw inspiration from, and the things I've done before or painted recently are just. . . not up to par."

"Lucky for you, I just wrote a song recently, and I need your artistic opinion on it," Hongjoong replies, leaning closer, nudging his shoulder against Seonghwa's. "Sound like a plan?"

"The best plan," Seonghwa replies, smiling warmly at the other. Leaning closer, Hongjoong breaches over the distance, allowing their lips to meet in another kiss, something chaste and soft, but it somehow must've been enough for a gasp to stir them into turning around, watching as Wooyoung stood completely still, wracked in awe.

"YOU TWO–" Wooyoung begins, a hand coming up to cover his currently-agape mouth. "Kiss in private, you weirdos."

Hongjoong laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Seonghwa, his eyes alight with obvious affection. "Ignore him. He'd make out with San while in his lap, right in front of everyone, if he could. San just won't let him."

"I HEARD THAT–!"

Seonghwa laughs, shaking his head. "C'mon, you dramatic little boy. Lunch is on me, okay?"

Without another word, Wooyoung rushed forward, turning around as he began to talk, his words too fast for Seonghwa to bother to understand. He simply held Hongjoong's hand tighter, followed Wooyoung's steps, allowing the world to somehow guide him without worry.

For once, it was all he needed, in some weird sense. But, he wouldn't bother to question it.

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After a riveting lunch with their favorite couple, Seonghwa found himself sitting back in his classroom, settled on a stool, chewing on his lip as he once again stared at a blank canvas. He had asked Wooyoung and San to give him a few inspirational words, something that might spark his creative mindset alive, but nothing had come. Not yet, anyway.

Sun. Pink. Fence. Flowers. Wooyoung seemed to be some sort of dictionary at the mention of needing nouns and adjectives to help create a visual painting within Seonghwa's mind, and though he'd normally feel nothing from those four words, something did seem to alight a fire within him, something hopeful, something that was a better comparison than what he had felt in weeks, let alone months.

The weight of a paintbrush in his hand was familiar, something grounding, preparing him mentally for the battle that he needed to wage on himself. It was a necessary thing, trying to fight back all of the negative thoughts, the anger and the sudden quell of sadness, trying to brush everything aside in a fight for emotional freedom. But, in staring at his canvas, something new tingles at the edge of his fingertips, slowly beginning to urge him into a trance, guiding him closer, making his heart thump anxiously.

Curious steps plant Hongjoong closer, though Seonghwa doesn't pay any mind, settling into the other's desk chair, watching and waiting quietly as he gets himself comfortable. He had his usual guitar with him, resting carefully on his lap the moment he sat down, the scribbles of a notepad sat down to his right, likely marking the notes and lyrics to a song he had just recently made. Seonghwa reached for his tubes of paint, grabbing titanium white, allowing the color to bleed onto his paintbrush as he closed the cap and sat the bottle aside, lingering closer and closer to the canvas, feeling the weight of Wooyoung's words etch into his vision.

Slowly, he drags the paintbrush down, watching as the white melts onto the canvas, quietly glimmering back at him from the reflection of the overhead lights, yet again offering some sort of peace in knowing that he was taking a step further, reaching for that part of himself that he long abandoned because of every single crisis he felt himself drowning into. But, he allows himself to thoughtlessly spread the white against the canvas, providing as a base, a perfect blend of colorless white to help blend everything smoothly, covering the ridges and bumps of the primed and stretched canvas.

Reaching back down, he grabs crimson red and sunflower yellow, chewing on his lip as he smears the colors on his palette, looking down at the small globs with a sense of contentment, though the lingering anxiety sends him slightly unsure, causing him to pause. He twirls the paintbrush in his hand, wetting his lips, now feeling the weight of everything come surging back towards him. The uncertainty, the nervousness, the fear of failure; this was why he didn't want to step closer in doing this. His mind was a conduit, an endless current of things that he wanted to avoid, and somehow, in just sitting in front of a canvas like this, he was unlocking every single door that he forcibly shut in a show for peace.

He takes a breath, letting his arms lower slowly, studying the tight corners of the canvas, the easel, the way the silence of the room seemed to pull him deeper, trying to just soothe his thoughts to a bitter stance of pure and utter calamity. Yet, there was something about these colors, about the brush and the canvas, that all seemed to be belittling him. They were laughing, mocking him in every sense of the word, joking and pointing out all of the obvious flaws that he spent months trying to ignore. He was losing his interest in all of this, feeling as the passion that once flowed through his veins suddenly dissipated, vanishing from his grasp while he held onto the strands of who he used to be. He wasn't the man he tried to be anymore, succumbing to the pressures of a society that was ever-changing and overly competitive, but yet, he didn't want to stop. He wanted to try, if anything at all. To try again, to create again, to just be himself again. He'd do anything to have just a fraction of that back.

But, the sudden strum of a few strings causes his gaze to shift. Hongjoong's fingers, delicate and practiced, began strumming against the wood of his guitar, humming along to a song that seemed well in development, though finished enough to be presented. He sat, he listened, allowing the melody of Hongjoong's guitar to force his mind into silence. It was working, if just for now, but somehow, the soft melody, followed by Hongjoong's subtle hums, brought him into a state of near-hypnotic movements, allowing the paintbrush to draw him closer. He drug yellows and reds onto the canvas, smearing the colors together, highlighting with shades of mixed-in pink, followed by white and tones of grey, slowly beginning to paint the beautiful rapture of a delicate sunset. The clouds, low and gentle, hung against a warming sky, coloring the painting in a blur of gentle orange tones before settling into the elegant hues of red and fuschia.

Every single note of the guitar seemed to spark every single flick of the brush, encouraging Seonghwa further, almost in a silent plea to keep going. So, he does. He doesn't stop. He allows himself to dive into it, to be swallowed whole, to continue capturing the image in his mind even as he brings forth other colors, nearly demanding himself to continue this not just for the sake of his students, but for his mother. With a hardy, earthy green and a deep umber, he began to accent the setting sky with a field of flowers, followed by the wooden posts of an older, slightly-broken fence. Maybe from a farm, an out-lived and out-dated field of sorts, or maybe the remnants of what used to be; he didn't know. The flowers, not quite wilting, though bright with color, beaming yellow petals matched with a brown center, the obvious cast of a brightening field of elegant sunflowers, somehow bright against the deep hues of a pink sky, bringing forth a comfort of something that felt similar to home, yet not completely there. It was almost as if there was a wordless semicolon there, a pause, a not-yet-complete story begun within the delicate strokes of paint placed onto the canvas, signaling for more words, more paint, more of whatever Seonghwa was crafting, urging a deeper understanding than just a simple sunset.

Hongjoong's strumming had stopped, but Seonghwa didn't seem to notice. Even after an hour or so, Seonghwa just continued, biting his lip, pinching his brows together, allowing his mind to completely take over, stilling his nerves and silencing his doubts, for once giving way to the creative section of his brain and allowing it to take over completely.

The sudden flash of a camera causes Seonghwa to not quite pause, but to rather glance over his shoulder, watching as Hongjoong lowered his phone, almost with an apologetic smile.

"What's that for?" Seonghwa asks, continuing his smaller, meticulous details on the rigid fence post.

"Memories," Hongjoong insists, putting his phone down. "It's a breakthrough, Hwa. You're doing it, do you even realize that?"

Seonghwa smiles, nodding slowly. "I do, I'm just. . . enjoying it."

"I've been enjoying it." Hongjoong adjusts the way he's sitting, leaning a bit closer, but not enough to intrude on Seonghwa's space. "It's. . . incredible."

"It's just a landscape, Joong–"

"You're amazing, you're talented, and you're just–"

Seonghwa arches a brow, his hand stilling, turning to look at Hongjoong.

"I'm what?"

He stills, then he smiles, biting his lower lip as he shakes his head, letting a small breath break through as he leans back into the chair, his eyes glued to the painting before flicking towards Seonghwa. "You're you."

"Is that. . . a good thing?"

"Yeah–" Hongjoong pauses, something warmer bleeding through his gaze. "An amazing thing."

Seonghwa shakes his head, turning back towards the painting, tilting his head to the left. He tries to ignore the feeling of Hongjoong's eyes on him, but even without glancing at him, he can sense him. It was strong, and yet, oddly endearing. He didn't mind it, at least, not really.

Even as he continued his efforts to detail the fence posts, he couldn't help the smile that curled on the edges of his lips, somehow giving him even more courage to confront Hongjoong, playing into their banter once more.

"What are you staring at?" Seonghwa asks, turning his head, twisting and twirling his paintbrush lightly in his other hand, watching as Hongjoong smiles, allowing not a single ounce of dishonesty to bleed through his words.

"You," he comments, keeping his voice soft. "You're beautiful."

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