Seunghyeon crossed his arms, tilting his head as he stared at the painting on the wall. The abstract elements and mediocre subject gave a discount Picasso vibe. If Seunghyeon was a professor, he’d take marks off for that.

“What do you think?” Yoonah asked quietly, sipping lukewarm coffee from a paper cup. “I think it really captures the mundanity of everyday life.”

Seunghyeon cracked a smile. “Nice way of saying it’s boring.” Picasso could make boring interesting with brushstrokes and colour. But this painting thought the messy room was definitely the highlight.

Yoonah bit back her smirk. “Critiques are supposed to be positive,” she said as they headed to the next painting.

The fourth-year students displayed their projects after each major assignment in the smallest gallery on campus. Students wandered in groups, basically taking the chance to catch up with their friends and occasionally talk about their work. Seunghyeon made small talk with people, but he was mainly stuck by Yoonah as she cheerfully greeted everyone.

Across the gallery, Seunghyeon watched their two professors for the class assess a painting, scribbling on their clipboards and asking the artist questions. Seunghyeon shook his head and sighed in relief. Thankfully, he’d just finished his assessment. And after Yoonah got hers done, they could finally go eat something. Hopefully, it’d be something spicy.

Nodding his head at some passing classmates, Yoonah and he discussed a few more paintings. They turned around when they heard Yoonah’s name, spotting the professors at her painting.

“Good luck,” Seunghyeon said, patting her shoulder as she went. Sighing, Seunghyeon stopped at the next piece and pursed his lips, stepping in front of his painting.

He wasn’t one for self-portraits, but thankfully he shrouded himself in shadows, a reflection of the real sense of lost time during a heat. His other paintings about being an omega used bold reds and deep blacks to grab passersby's attention to make them feel just how scary a heat can be.

But this one took a different approach. The greys and blues with him just in bed, the tail-end of his heat, staring at the snow outside. Seunghyeon sighed and crossed his arms. If he had the strength that day, he would have burst open that window and stuck his head out until a small mound of soft, fluffy snow piled on his head.

The winter had been so busy, he didn’t even have a chance to appreciate the snow. And before he knew it, it was already spring.

“Hey kitten, what’re you doing?” Kwangsun swung his arm around his shoulder.

Seunghyeon jumped and ducked out of his grip, scowling at Kwangsun’s obnoxious smile. He turned away. “Nothing.”

Kwangsun didn’t seem bothered and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Really? I’d say you’re looking at a painting. This one’s yours, right,” he said, leaning in to read the label.

“Why do you ask stupid questions,” Seunghyeon sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “So what if I’m looking at my painting? You have a problem with that?”

“Nope,” he said and stood beside him, stroking his chin as he looked.

With his eyebrow twitching, Seunghyeon forced himself to stare at his work. He wasn’t even looking at it anymore; he just pointed his eyes forward. As the tension boiled over, Seunghyeon groaned. “Can you just-” Seunghyeon broke off. No one was there.

Seunghyeon looked over his shoulder, spinning around before spotting Kwangsun at the next painting over. He frowned and stomped over to him. Why couldn’t he be around when he needed him?

“Why’re you so annoying?” Seunghyeon hissed.

“Why’re you so grumpy?”

Frowning, Seunghyeon examined the painting.

Kwangsun leaned in. “Care to share your critique?”

Rolling his eyes, Seunghyeon hummed. Might as well take the opportunity to put him in his place.

Vibrant was the first word to come to mind. The two girls’ umber skin popped with their bold purple hanboks. The gold trim on their dresses and the ornaments in their hair dazzled in jewel tones. Their pouts and posture and their faces' smooth texture made it look like a highly rendered photograph during a festival. Seunghyeon squinted and leaned closer. And by the reflection on their jewelry, it was as if the girls themselves were the light source.

The piece that made being bored look luxurious and sophisticated. Seunghyeon frowned and crossed his arms. It was the best piece here.

“Weren’t you supposed to do something from your life? You’re not in this.”

“Nobody specified it had to be a self-portrait,” Kwangsun said. “Besides, those are my sisters.”

“You have sisters,” Seunghyeon asked and raised his eyebrow. “You did a bad job making them different. They look the same.”

“They’re twins.”

Seunghyeon pursed his lips. “Well..." Seunghyeon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Why’re they wearing such an old style of hanbok?”

Kwangsun shrugged. “Why not? It looks nice. The colours are more regal.”

“It goes against the assignment. Unless you’ve got ancient-looking hanboks laying around,” Seunghyeon pointed out. Of course, Kwangsun wouldn’t listen to instructions and do his own thing. It was supposed to be a piece about their lives, modern lives.”

“But that’s boring,” Kwangsun chuckled. “Life is fun, and why can’t I add a little something to my art? It’s my piece.”

Seunghyeon squinted his eyes. “You were supposed to stay realistic,” he grumbled. “You just”-he waved his hand at the painting-“you’ve added no deeper meaning. It’s just two girls bored-looking pretty. The ‘historical’ part of it doesn’t add anything.”

“Not everything needs some grand, sob story. You know,” Kwangsun retorted.

Seunghyeon rolled his eyes. “At least it should add depth to the art.”

“Isn’t adding interest enough,” Kwangsun smirked. “Your art is all the same. Sad. You’ve never expanded your creative lens.”

“That’s so rude,” Seunghyeon scoffed. “My art always has a narrative about the struggles in anybody’s life. At least I show raw emotion in my art. You just make cute and one-dimensional art.”

“Just because you don’t get it doesn’t mean there isn’t a story,” Kwangsun said, glaring at him.

Seunghyeon shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to tell me the story about the art to move me,” he said and smirked. “Maybe you should try a little harder. Unless you’re secretly afraid of showing a little skin,” he added, exaggerating his pout.

Kwangsun rolled his eyes and leaned in. “I can’t believe you’re calling me a prude. I bet I can make a piece deeper than any of yours. To top it off, I’ll make it sexy too.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

“And I’d like to see you try to paint someone who’s not basically transparent,” Kwangsun crossed his arms.

Seunghyeon scrunched up his nose. “Stop being so high and mighty thinking you’re the only one who can make realistic portraits,” he said and held his nose up. “I’ll paint my final so lifelike, that you’ll drop out from shame.”

Kwangsun stifled a laugh. “Sure. But then don’t come to me when you’re crying over your pigments. I mean, I’ll help you, but it’ll come at a fee.”

“As if I’d ever ask you for help,” Seunghyeon hissed, stomping his foot.

“Well, you have already, at the cafe,” Kwangsun teased.

Seunghyeon balled his fists. “Hyung was the one to hire you, not me,” he said, poking his chest. “So don’t think for a second that I actually need your help in anything. Cause I don’t.”

Leaning back, Kwangsun's smirk turned into a coy smile. “Sure, whatever you say, kitten.”

Gritting his teeth, Seunghyeon boiled over. Kwangsun was so up his own ass that he thought he was the best of the best. He’ll show him. “Get lost,” he snapped and marched out of the gallery. Swiping a stale cookie on the way out, he tore off a bite.

He’ll show him.