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A few hours passed.

Seonghwa had made a little progress: reorganizing the interior of his desk's drawers, cleaning the tops of his tables, drawing out plans for where he'd store certain items and gathering others. He knew he'd have to order a few things, bringing some decorations into the room, as well as personalizing the space in some sort of way.

Everything felt to be coming together, in whatever means that together implied, and with whatever small items Seonghwa had dispersed around the space, the vision he withheld in the back of his mind began to become overly apparent. He just hoped that his motivation carried through, pushing him forth to encourage the complete transformation of a room that was once abandoned. He didn't want to be over the top or overly grand, but making this space his own, adding a little bit of his own personality within the confines of four unfamiliar walls, the more he hoped that in doing all of this, his artistic spark might just return.

As he leaned against his desk, he allowed his eyes to rake over the entire vacancy of his room, chewing on his lip as he studied the vision he felt brewing within the folds of his mind. He knew that all of this would just take a little bit of finesse, maybe a touch of someone with a perfectionist taste, with a spark of hope mixed in. It wasn't that he didn't wish to embark on all of this, he rather did, but the motivation, the inspiration, culminated with the stress of everything happening back home, felt overly insurmountable.

With a sigh, Seonghwa placed his hands on the desk, leaning into the press of it, allowing his lungs to heave slightly before gathering himself. His chest felt slightly heavy with the burden of it all, but he knew better than to sit within it. He needed to keep moving, to keep preparing and to busy himself to stray away from the thoughts of it all. Cancer, sickness, hospice, estates and a passing of wills.

"Hey." A voice draws Seonghwa's attention upright, blinking twice before allowing a subtle smile to curl at the edges of his lips. "You seem down. Everything alright?"

"Yes, yeah–" Seonghwa breathes out carefully, straightening his posture. "Just adjusting to the new space, trying to figure it all out."

Hongjoong nods, approaching with a few tentative steps, keeping a respectful distance between them. "I understand, it can be overwhelming. But, you can always ask Wooyoung or myself for help. We've been done doing a majority of the work for a few days now. To be honest, I think Wooyoung is just hanging out here so he doesn't have to be home alone."

"Does he not like to be alone?" Seonghwa asks, to which Hongjoong shrugs.

"You could call it that," he expresses, a smile curled. "I rather like to call it separation anxiety from his boyfriend. If San is here, working away, Wooyoung would rather remain as close as he can without being distracting."

Seonghwa's features soften, wondering what it would be like to seek that much comfort from someone, especially with someone who rather cherished his presence and sought it out rather than hid away from him.

"That's sweet," Seonghwa muses lightly, tilting his head as he listens to Hongjoong scoff playfully, watching as he rolls his eyes. "What? Is it not? Is there some secret I should know?"

"It's just typical Wooyoung. Once he's your friend, or once he chooses that he likes you, prepare to entertain a koala for life."

"A koala?" Seonghwa asks, almost with a spark of intrigue.

"A sassy koala, maybe," Hongjoong clarifies, folding his arms against his chest. "I love him like a brother, but just know, he's overly clingy."

"I've never really had many friendships in my life," Seonghwa starts, pausing as he tries to gauge Hongjoong's reaction, though the male simply remains quiet, listening intently. "But, I don't know. . . the idea of someone being clingy, especially towards me, I can't say that I hate the idea of it."

"Even if you weren't fond of it, I doubt you'd be able to escape it." Hongjoong smiles as he talks, and for a moment, Seonghwa feels a sudden heat crawling over his cheeks. What the hell was happening? "Speaking of Wooyoung, though, I came by to ask if you were coming with us to lunch?"

"Oh, yes, yeah–" Seonghwa replies quickly, the words tumbling out, likely giving away that he nearly forgot about such plans. "I'm practically done here. Are we meeting now?"

"Yeah," Hongjoong hums, smiling small. "We always meet around two."

"Okay," Seonghwa says, offering a mirrored smile back. "Let me just grab my bag and we can go."

Hongjoong nods, allowing his arms to fall away, his hands at his sides, a warm expression falling across his features. Seonghwa turned around, reaching for his bag and sliding his phone into his pocket, briefly adjusting his cardigan before he turned, giving Hongjoong a small smile.

"Lead the way," he says, gripping the handles of his bag slighter tighter than he thought to, but he blamed it all on his sudden rush of nerves.

Hongjoong nodded, turning on his heel as he led the pair out of the lecture hall, turning to the left and down the quiet corridor, their steps echoing quietly as they walked in tandem towards the lobby. Seonghwa took a breath inwards, as subtly as he could manage at that, relishing in the idea of sharing a new experience. He wasn't necessarily labeled as a loner, per se, but he rather kept to himself most of the time. Intermingling with people he had never met, let alone with a duo he had met mere hours ago, felt like something his past self would merely gawk at, or make fun of. A group of friends, romance, a social life beyond the creative confines of his usual artistic office felt too similar to a mere dream, maybe even an irrational thought. Yet, here he was, following Hongjoong to an unknown cafe, preparing himself to meet five other individuals who were already well established into a friend group. He didn't wish to intrude, let alone become a burden to people who may or may not wish to bring him into the routine of close friends. But somehow, Hongjoong's reassuring smile made it all that much easier, guiding their steps with a casual pace, allowing the momentary stress to dissipate.

The lobby was quiet at this hour he noticed, left with the bright illumination from overhead lights that mingled seamlessly with the flood of inwards light dazzling in from the large windows. People walked around quietly, attending to a phone call or some paperwork, leaving the space mutually scenic, allowing Seonghwa a moment to further indulge in his thoughts as he followed Hongjoong out of the building and towards the left, away from the parking lot. The sun was still out, barely cast over by the threat of peaceful, wispy clouds, creating a serene atmosphere for their walk, for however long it'd be. Seonghwa wasn't entirely sure as to where they were headed, as he hadn't bothered to ask, but by the jovial expression on Hongjoong's face, accompanied by the smooth and subtle bounce to his every step, he assumed it was somewhat close.

"What's the name of the place?" Seonghwa asks quietly, hopeful that he didn't disturb such a tranquil setting. "I forgot to ask–"

"Whimsey," Hongjoong replies, turning to glance at Seonghwa. "It's a smaller corner cafe, but we've all loved it since we became a group of friends, you know? It's something San, Wooyoung's partner, had found. He always came into the office with this crumbled muffin and some sort of iced coffee. To say that his lecture room smelled heavenly all the time is an understatement."

"So, I've got San to thank?" Seonghwa muses, watching as Hongjoong smiles.

"Trust me, we all do. He's the one who controls Wooyoung's chaotic sprees of energy. There's plenty to thank him for."

"I'll keep that in mind," Seonghwa says, turning to look ahead of him, watching as the street melds into a heavier bout of traffic, which was typical for this part of the city, Seonghwa assumed. Having campus sporadically surrounding this area was interesting, as he felt it was nearly modernized in layout, but it rather felt open, free of a usual school setting, leaving him to wonder why there was such an absence of attendance within the Creative Arts courses. But, a part of him hoped that there'd be a change this year; a newly forged path that would hopefully save the department from crashing.

Seonghwa wasn't an overly optimistic person, nor was he graciously positive. He had his fears, his doubts, a wrack of personal turmoil that he rather chose to ignore for the sake of his own stability. But something about this job, this path in life, made him an ounce more hopeful that he usually was. Perhaps it had something to do with the liveliness of the area, or maybe it was just the simple task of surrounding himself with a better group of people, far from the likes of his ex and previous friends.

He didn't seek to be so open, to welcome people so willingly back into his life, but Hongjoong just had a way at breaking through his harsher exterior, sneaking past a multitude of walls, getting increasingly close to a part of himself that he would rather keep closed off. Hongjoong was easy to be around, at least, Seonghwa was beginning to realize that now. He was even-keeled, laid back, and apparently jovial in every aspect, which somehow drew Seonghwa even further into his orbit. Seonghwa wasn't always so keen on welcoming people into his life like this, but for once, that darkened part of himself ached to be someone else for just the day. He wanted to be free of the weight on his shoulders, to be away from the confines of the reality he faced back home, to be rid of the pain that came with realizing how soon his life would forever change in the matter of a few weeks.

"What did you do for a job before all of this?" Hongjoong inquires, spurring Seonghwa into glancing back towards him, letting a brief breath flow through his slightly parted lips.

"I, uh– I was a commission-based artist back home. I. . . had to stop recently, because of some things, but now that things are slowing down, I decided to get a more full-time commitment, to plant roots somewhere. I don't know," Seonghwa pauses, chewing on his lower lip before he continues. "I've never had such a committed job before, but I'm prepared for this."

"You've taught before, no?" Hongjoong asks.

"Yeah, a few years ago. I was a private classical painting teacher for those who are too rich to step into the threshold of a college classroom. I was young and naive back then, thinking that a job like that would fulfill me with the joy any other job wouldn't. I was wrong. It was a horrible job."

"We live and we learn, don't we?" Hongjoong muses, smiling small. "I wasn't the greatest in job selections either. I thought I could compose a few tracks, make a few songs, and burst into stardom without even bothering to look at those who doubted me. It. . . was harder than I imagined."

"How long have you been into music?"

"Oh, years and years," Hongjoong says, a soft chuckle bleeding from his tongue. "My father played guitar for me when I was practically a toddler. Now, I play everything I can get my hands on. Guitar, piano, percussion– you name it. Writing music gives me clarity, but crafting every part of it – the bass, the melody, the lyrics – that's what I love more than anything else."

Seonghwa's expression softens, the faint sound of traffic serving as a minor soundtrack to their soft, deepening conversation.

"I love that," Seonghwa confesses quietly. "I was like that too, once upon a time, except not with music, with painting. I've been drawing since I could remember, sketching animals and flowers, just anything that I thought about. When I grew older, I started painting feelings, emotions, putting words onto a canvas when I felt rather speechless. There was a beauty to it that I can't express–"

Seonghwa pauses, caught up in his thought, allowing the words to pass by his lips genuinely, hoping to convey the feelings he conjured so long ago, a feeling he hoped to get back. "It was almost as if each layer of paint, each stroke of white, each small detail would somehow just make it come to life. I could create anything my mind thought of, like an ocean scene but within the confines of space and planets. There were no limits, and that was the best thing about it."

"What changed?"

Seonghwa nearly pauses his steps at the sound of Hongjoong's question, turning to glance at him with his eyebrows raised.

"Changed?" Seonghwa asks subtly, almost wondering if Hongjoong could sense the tribulations of his past.

"You're talking in the past tense. That was the best thing about it," Hongjoong reiterates, gesturing with his hand. "Why did you stop?"

Seonghwa breathes out a quiet oh, smoothing out the fabric of his cardigan before he moves a little closer unconsciously, feeling Hongjoong's shoulder briefly rub against his own. "Family stuff, you know? It was hard, for a while. I mean, it still is difficult, but. . . I'm trying. I'm doing my best, even if it doesn't feel to be my best."

"That's all we can do," Hongjoong reassures, keeping his tone soft with a gentle hum. "Sometimes, even when things are hard, all we can manage to do is try. Because, in the end, at least we can say that we attempted it, right? We tried to do what we thought was too hard?"

"Yes, of course," Seonghwa replies back, smiling small as Hongjoong glances at him.

"You've got a spark in you," Hongjoong says softly. "It'll come back to you. I don't know what's going on, nor do you have to feel obligated to tell me, but I can sense it about you. You'll paint again one day, Seonghwa. I can sense it."

Seonghwa smiled, the words somehow having found the dull scraps of his heart, layering over it, providing a sense of warmth he hadn't felt in years. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Hongjoong smiles wider before he raises his hand, gesturing towards the right. "The cafe is on the corner up here. Ready to meet the group?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Seonghwa breathes out, feeling as Hongjoong nudges his shoulder, almost in a silent bout of encouragement.

"You've got this. Besides, they don't bite–" he pauses, albeit smiling. "Well, Wooyoung does, anyway. But he saves that attitude for San."

Seonghwa laughs. "Alright. Noted."

As the two round the corner, Seonghwa follows closely, allowing Hongjoong the chance for him to lead their trek into the acclaimed cafe. It was quaint, warm and bathed in natural lighting, a far contrast to the usual aesthetic this part of the city adorned. The moment Hongjoong opened the door, a soft chime wove through the quiet shop, sending Seonghwa's gaze to turn inwards, studying the view ahead of him as he tried to absorb as much as he was able.

The soft wood tones, along with the white and green accents made the room feel warmer, accented with gentle white lights, accompanied by the plethora of decadent potted plants and chalk-listed menu items, decorated in tune with the season. Leaves were scattered beneath the sill of the countertop, a decorative theme the shop had chosen to celebrate the season of autumn. Pumpkins, which Seonghwa assumed were fake, were placed in specific corners, all in preparation for the upcoming holidays. The floors were wooden in some places, tiled in others, crafted in a manner to keep the space cozy and practical.

Seonghwa followed Hongjoong carefully between the tables and booths, listening to the soft music playing overhead. He could hear the faint murmurs of chatter happening in the far corner, to which he assumed would be filled with all of Hongjoong's friends, talking and conversing without a single ounce of worry.

"There they are!" Wooyoung exclaims, a plastic travel cup in his right hand, likely filled with some sort of coffee. "Glad you made it, Seonghwa."

"Yes, everyone–" Hongjoong gestures with his hand, looking at Seonghwa. "This is our new Professor who will be taking over for Mr. Jeon."

Seonghwa nods, accepting the title as it was, watching as the group smiles and murmurs different versions of welcome in scattered unison.

"Seonghwa, this is everyone," Hongjoong begins, pointing to the closest male, who seemed to be the tallest, wearing a fitted button-up with glasses perched on his nose. He wore a silver watch, though his hair was a deep russet brown, slightly parted in the middle in a casually-messy manner, though his smile was bright, a sharp contrast to the deep hue of his brown eyes. "This is Yunho. He teaches pathology in the medical building. Next is Mingi–"

Seonghwa offers a smile as his eyes shift, focusing on the other tall male, watching as his smile curls, though softer than that of Yunho's. He was also wearing glasses, though black-framed to give him an edgier vibe, accented with a casual hoodie and a few necklaces adorning his neck, giving way to a different personality that he likely entertained outside of the confines of the college.

"He manages the campus gym throughout the week, but don't listen to him when he tries to give you advice on the difference between certain workouts, though."

"That was a one time thing, Joong'ah," Mingi attests, earning a laugh from both Yunho and Hongjoong.

"Next is San, and you know Wooyoung, obviously." Seonghwa glances over, spotting the male named San, who sat close to Wooyoung, who smiled small and offered a brief wave. Seonghwa offered a wave back, studying the male for a moment, taking a second to realize that he was rather. . . buff. His physique was no joke, causing him to ponder slightly at why the male had chosen business as his chosen venture, when he likely had talents in many other aspects. His hair was shorter, black, slightly roughed around the edges, likely from Wooyoung's adoring tease-filled antics, matched with a casual sweater and a watch, giving him a suave appearance that looked nothing less than the part he clearly played. Wooyoung was smiling gleefully, his eyes focused on San before they flicked towards Seonghwa, glimmering with some sort of mischief that Seonghwa easily recognized.

"Saving the best for last," Hongjoong teases warmly, earning a groan of disapproval from everyone else at the table. "Yeosang on the left, and Jongho on the right."

Seonghwa nods his head, taking in as subtle of a breath as he could manage, trying to ease the tempest of his ever-changing emotions. Yeosang was sitting comfortably, dressed in a casual sweater and lighter jeans. His hair was almost a mixture of auburn and brunette, dangling in front of his eyes as it cascaded towards his shoulder in a medium-length curl. Jongho looked like a bodyguard of sorts, dressed sharply with glasses perched on his nose, an arm around the back of Yeosang's chair, holding him close, leaving Seonghwa to believe that not only the pair were close, but they likely were together.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Seonghwa begins, clasping his hands together. "I look forward to working with all of you this year."

"We will guide you through it!" Wooyoung attests, raising his coffee in a near-toast, though with a glance from San, the male ends up laughing, placing his cup down with a faint dusting of blush coating his cheeks.

"You're so loud, Young'ah," Mingi chastises, furrowing his brow.

"I'm excited, I can't help it," Wooyoung replies, gesturing towards Seonghwa as he speaks again. "We've needed a revival of sorts in the arts department, and with him being here, I have a good feeling about all of this! This is exactly what we needed, don't you think?"

"I agree," San replies, moving to wrap his arm around the back of Wooyoung's chair. "But lower your tone, love. I'm sure half of the city could hear your excitement from here."

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, glancing at Hongjoong and Seonghwa, almost in a plea to be saved from his gentle reprimands.

"He's fine, San'ah. We're the only ones in here," Hongjoong interjects, trying to alleviate the small bout of subtle tension that arose over the threshold of the table settled between everyone. "Seonghwa, get comfy. Do you want anything? I can go grab us something."

Seonghwa feels his heart swell in his throat, the offer resonating something with a flicker of light and levity, something he hadn't bothered to feel in near-months.

"Oh! Yeah, sure, uhm–" Seonghwa reaches his hand out, gently curling his fingers over the back of the empty chair before him, one that would be seated right next to Jongho. "Tea. Whatever tea they'd recommend, I don't mind."

Hongjoong nods, offering a small smile before he turns, leaving Seonghwa to the cluster of people he had literally just met, though he hardly felt uncomfortable.

"Wow, special treatment," Wooyoung teases, arching his brow. "Hongjoong must like you."

Seonghwa pulls his chair out, sitting down before he glances at Wooyoung. "Like me? Why would you think something like that?"

"Joong'ah never buys me anything when we go out for lunch," Wooyoung muses, leaning into San partially. "I don't think he's bought a drink for any of us in a long time."

"Surely there's a reason for that, no?" Seonghwa asks curiously, glancing around at everyone surrounding the table.

"Despite the fact that we're all practically paired up, there's no other reason," Yunho explains, leaving Seonghwa to only nod, further understanding their point. He wouldn't have guessed for Yunho and Mingi to be together too, which made all of this a bit more confusing to understand.

Someone as jovial and light as Hongjoong remained alone for God knows how long, but as to why, Seonghwa didn't know. He seemed to be a catch, a man of someone's dreams, leaving him to wonder if he truly had closed himself off, or if he was seeing someone long distance. Either way, Seonghwa settled into a brief state of confusion, listening as Yunho and Wooyoung quietly bickered about Hongjoong's apparent tendencies. San and Mingi just sat by, rather amused, glancing at each other to see who would break first in getting their partners to just relax.

"It's always like this," Jongho whispers carefully, slightly leaning towards Seonghwa. "You just learn to enjoy the arguments, because there may come a day where there aren't any and it's just silent. Wooyoung is feisty, so he'll never drop something unless San tells him to."

"How long have you all known each other?" Seonghwa asks, watching as a faint smile tugs at the corners of Jongho's lips.

"Some of us have known each other for months, years–" Jongho explains, pausing when he hears Wooyoung's laugh burst from across the table. "San and Wooyoung have been together for a very long time, and both of them have known Yunho and Mingi for many years, but Yeosang and I joined the fold when Wooyoung and Yeosang became very good friends maybe two years ago. Hongjoong was the most recent addition to this chaotic cluster, but in some sort of way, I think he brought us even more together."

"That's all very lovely," Seonghwa adds, watching as Jongho nods.

"I wouldn't trade this chaos, as loud as it is, for anything else. I may just sit back and watch a ton, but these guys are my life. I hadn't known what family felt like before any of this."

Family.

A word that Seonghwa hardly used anymore, a term that felt oddly barren and lacking in meaning. He didn't much have that, as the remnants of what once was clung to life by a thread, hooked up to machines in the deadly throes of hospice care, pleading for Seonghwa to simply stay home. The last thing Seonghwa wanted to do was to sit there and watch them slowly deteriorate, observing them succumbing to their illness and frail state-of-mind. He needed this job, this forced path back into his creative habits, all in an effort to serve as a distraction for what was to come.

Funerals. Hospital bills. Lineage contracts. A house he didn't want. People he didn't care to receive words of sincerity from.

He just wanted something like this. A group of friends, all laughing together, causing chaos, sharing in the love that was both platonic and the pure opposite. He wanted a part of this, an eighth of it, if he could so bear it.

Even as Hongjoong sits down next to him, handing over the plastic cup of what looked to be raspberry tea, Seonghwa saw the flicker of something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Warmth. Growing trust. Adoration, maybe.

So, he leans back, taking in all these new faces and names, trying to force himself into acceptance. He didn't have to be alone in this hellish storm that he called life. He could lean on someone, seek shelter and harbor himself, clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe, this would be the group to save him.

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