fly

He tells you his name in a low whisper, one that pounds against your ears rather than the music. Im Jaebum. You almost yell out your name in response but you doubt he can hear. Your hands go up to his face, all carved cheekbones and jaw, and you just marvel. Tequila tells you he can’t be real in all this fuchsia glow and vodka tells you take him home.

You listen.

After an intense night, you’re the first to wake. You’ve always been. It’s instinct to wake up, grab your things, and walk away; but when you open your eyes, they focus on the stream of golden orange painting Jaebum. There’s no more tequila in your system to tell you he can’t be real. He simply is.

Golden rays peek from his red curtains and wrap around his body, much like you did, and crawl up to his face. Caressing the earrings on his lobe, dusting his cheeks in a natural glow, accentuating the beauty in his eyelashes. You almost want to touch his face, relive the night. Im Jaebum is beautiful, you decide, and he will crush your heart.

You leave the warmth of the bed, gather your things, and say goodbye to another man.

I have just the person for your next shoot.

Your close friend, Bambam, says. He’s fiddling with his phone while you’re fiddling with the bottom of your coffee cup. Oh? Who? you quirk a smile. Inspiration hasn’t hit home yet for a few weeks, you can’t find a reason for the sudden dry spell. The exhibit is demanding new pieces. You need this.

Yeah, Bambam smirks in a way you want to capture.Your fingers twitch, imagine a shutter. When he smiles like that, there’s expression and defiance. He’s plotting something. I already told him to meet you at your studio at 3 today. 

He knows what kind of shoot I’m doing right? you ask. It’s a partial nudity one. There’s vulnerability and openness that many don’t see. You want to capture that.

Bambam rolls his eyes. Of course he does. By the way, he likes to be early. He said he’s going to be there in 15 minutes, good luck.

You walk up the stairs to the studio and stop when you see the familiar figure of Im Jaebum awaiting. 

The whole ordeal of introducing yourself, opening the studio door, telling him Make yourself at home, setting the camera up, getting him stripped down to nothing, and having him wrap the white blanket around his body artfully on the bed takes no less than 20 minutes. You’re clicking away and he’s posing as if it’s something he’s done before when he breaks the silence.

You seem undeterred by this. You think he’s joking given the smirk on his face. It’s different from Bambam’s on an entirely different dimension. You capture the shot. 

Well, if you’re doing a piece on the bare human body, you learn to get used to it. You take another and straighten up, deciding the ruffles on one end distract from the centerpiece that is Jaebum. You almost bite your tongue but the words slip out too easily. And besides, it’s not something I haven’t seen before.

His face lights up at this. Recognition. You take another photo. I knew you seemed familiar. You were at the Hard Carry club. You laugh at his expression, he’s wide eye.

Sorry, you muse. HIs expression seems pointed now, accusatory in a joking manner. Another photo. Did that startle you? That I’ve already seen the full package? 

You notice his grip on the white blanket tightens a little more. Not even bothering to check the frame of the shot, you take it anyways. Jaebum is the ideal model. He looks beautiful in white. 

He’s not talking. So you say: Did I make you uncomfortable? What’s on your mind?

No, he finally says. Just wondering why you left so quickly that morning.

So, Bambam slinks into the seat across from you at the same coffee spot you both have been meeting for months. How’d it go?

You’re too busy to look up from your laptop so you respond: Fine. He’s interesting.

Bambam rolls his eyes, reaching into his coat pocket to grab at his phone. He’s scrolling through his texts right when you finish writing an email to the pretentious exhibit people and when you shut your laptop, he’s placing his phone in your face.

Well, he seems to think the same, Bambam teases. Your eyes flicker up from the screen. Jaebum has a little crush. 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. The easy chatter inside the coffee shop helps soothe your nerves. He’s a grown man. Stop babying him. 

Bambam’s scrolling through his newfound love, Instagram, now. He’s either ignored what you said or processing it way too much. Reading between the lines of your words. You open your mouth to say something else when he interrupts your thoughts. I’m not babying him. Jaebum thinks you’re something else.  He wants to meet you again, maybe even model. But something with more clothes on.

You chuckle at this. Well, I don’t need him to model again. I’ll think about setting a date up.

Sighing, Bambam stuffs his phone back in his pocket. Play nice, alright. Jaebum’s had his own string of fucked up relationships.

You don’t see Jaebum for another three weeks. From planning your exhibition to developing photographs, you just don’t have the time to set something up. And to be honest, you’re not even sure if you want to. It’s a dangerous path.

But that doesn’t stop you from scrolling through Instagram and searching up a certain Im Jaebum. You marvel at his aesthetic feed. Jaebum is certainly a man of art. Must be illegal for someone to find art in everything and anything.

Your exhibition opening comes. It’s as marvelous and pretentious as you hoped it would be. There are waiters serving glasses of champagne and you’ve had your third glass. Dim lights to accentuate the sharpness in your photos, soothing classical music to create the atmosphere. It’s beautiful, your colleagues tell you. You truly outdid yourself.

Everything looks bleak and gray in your eyes.

The only thing keeping your sane during the night is the photograph of Jaebum hung on the wall. Ripples of white carress his body like water, his tuff of dyed brown hair adds the pop of color. The glimmer of his steel earrings. HIs eyes are closed in the photo, with the left half covered by his hand and his right towards the camera. The veins in his neck are prominent and you remember every detail of his while taking the shot.

I’m quite the model aren’t I? you feel breathed down your neck.

Jaebum walks to your left side, hands behind his back and with a dangerous smirk on his face. You were alright, you quip. 

He blinks, mocking shock. Only alright? You’ve been staring at my photo for a good ten minutes. 

You could use some humbling, you bite back. Take a sip of champagne. Besides, I was admiring my own fancywork. This was a great shot. 

He tips his head back and laughs. You can’t help your eyes from sliding over his form. Dressed in a gray suit, with a navy undershirt. Jaebum is disasterously good-looking and he knows it. He’s right: he is quite the model. But you don’t have time to play around with boys. 

You’re quite the photographer, you know that? He compliments. 

Rolling your eyes, you say: Goodbye, Jaebum. And turn to walk away. But his arm shoots out and grabs your elbow. Pulls you closer to face him. Actually look at him. You can smell his cologne and the fresh scent of laundry. 

When will I see you again? he asks, eyes searching your face. You must look like an owl - big eyed and blinking in confusion. 

I’m not good for you, Jaebum, you whisper back harshly. His grip is iron. You don’t know me and you shouldn’t. Tell Bambam to find you a nice girl. You shake off his grip and he almost reaches to grab you again. But he stops. Lets you walk away.

Click

Your next model - the soft-spoken but well read Jinyoung - shuffles around in the sheets. Peering from behind the lens, you look up at him and frown. Light’s off-centered, expression lacking, protruding collar bones replaced with the soften glow of unmarred skin: Jinyoung is an average model. He is not Im Jaebum. 

Thank you so much, you smile and place the camera back to your chest. I’ll be sure to send you proofs once I’ve developed them. You can hear Jinyoung shuffling in the sheets, after sending you a faint nod, and turn your back. Playing in the background is a soft classical piece by Mozart, a beautiful Piano Concerto Number 24 in C minor. A rise in your chest as you breathe in the light piece. This is your element. 

This is one of my favorites of Mozart, a break in the silence. You turn your head slightly toward the young man. He’s buttoning up his light blue shirt: a soft, demure look on him. Very fitting. Jinyoung is a man of calm and reason. A rationality in your chaos. I heard your exhibit went wonderfully. How are things?

Your relationship with Jinyoung is strange. At best, he is an average model, but a close confidant. He does not possess you the same way Im Jaebum does, there are no butterflies or slick comments. But Jinyoung is a welcomed warmth. There has always been a certain chemistry between you two and if circumstances were different, if you had not lived the life you did now, you know he would be a safe and content future. 

Things are going smoothly, you hum. Many want to purchase either my shots or my services. Tedious things though, like weddings and birthdays. 

Jinyoung nods. Not your specialty. 

Messing with the camera in your hands, you agree. Yeah, not my specialty. Maybe I should take it up though, since the pay is outrageous. 

Jinyoung is walking towards you now, and drapes his arms over you from behind. You find yourself in the security of his chest and almost sigh. This is his way of comforting you. 

You know you won’t do it. It would be out of character for you, he murmurs. You place the camera on your sleek, white desk and relax in his arms. Jinyoung has been a close friend for many years, he knows you too well. The thought of pursuing a relationship with him would not be uncharacteristic, but a life without color. Life without elements.

You’re right. He’s moved his arms to start massaging your shoulders lightly. I feel so lost, Jinyoung. After my exhibit. 

Why is that? he starts kneading at one particular tense spot above your shoulder blade. You almost dip your head back from the relaxation. 

Biting your lip, you say: I think I’ve met a man. 

He almost pauses. A very short hesitation in his movement before he starts up again. It’s the tiniest little indicator of something. Something you can’t quite pinpoint. Oh? The infamous little photographer has met a man, he muses. Must be someone remarkable. There’s no bitterness in his voice, just light teasing. 

Jaebum is, in the sense, a remarkable man. You know nothing about his daily life, what he does outside of the life on social media. But his aura of mystery and bewitching appearance has left you flabbergasted. As a photographer, he is the perfect model, and as a woman, he is a remarkable man. Someone who finds art in everything when he is art himself. 

At this point, he stops massaging your shoulders. You shift your body to face him and place a hand on his cheek in an endearing, affectionate manner. Jinyoung is the safe way. Even he knows this, as he places his hand over yours and smiles the smile of bittersweet heartache.

He must be a lucky man, he says.

Two weeks after meeting with Jinyoung, you mail him copies of your photos. He sends you a text in gratitude and adds a small blurb of encouragement and affection. You think about how he would make anybody happy. 

You and Bambam meet again at the usual spot. Seated across from each other in front of the window, the rain hits the pane of the glass and creates little droplets of water. Your fingers twitch, as if to take a picture. 

Jaebum asked about you, Bambam admits, as he sips on his cup of hot chocolate. You look away from the mesmerizing rain - what did he just say? He must have read the expression on your face before shrugging, in a mock nonchalant manner. He wants you to be hungry for news. Yeah. I said you were most likely busy. After every exhibit, you get like this. 

I get like what? you almost say defensively, but you know. The expectations always resurface after your exhibitions, the bar set high. Many of the times, you keep a low profile until your name has almost been completely erased from the mouths of the elites. 

Bambam sends you a pointed look. You know how you get. But that’s besides the point. Jaebum wants to meet again but won’t do anything if it’s against your wishes.

I told him to find someone else that’ll complement him better, you spit out. Jaebum has not left your head for a while but you know better. You know yourself the best and despite how tempting it is to chase a dream with Im Jaebum, you know how many of these dreams end. 

He seems pretty adamant on meeting with you, though. But I can just tell him you’re busy. Bambam states. He knows you don’t want him to say that. That a small part of you wants him to lead Jaebum your way. Chase the dream.

Okay, you hold your tongue.

Several months pass. 

You’re on the launch of another exhibit. This one is based on the colors of your world, a world that is not so white and human skin.

You don’t hear about Jaebum since that one day at the coffee shop with Bambam. 

Dressed in red, you walk into the same gallery with Jinyoung by your side. A date is customary at these events, and to celebrate another successful, fourth exhibition, you invite Jinyoung. He matches your dress with a red tie. It’s a rustic contrast to his black and white suit. 

I’ll see you in a bit, he murmurs in your ear as you reach the front doors, hand on the small of your back. He leaves you to your devices, his hand slowly moving across the expanse and by his side again. Jinyoung understands the formality of these exhibits, the need for small talk to grow your network. 

Moving across the floor, you glide with ease. The hallways are yours tonight, and you find yourself drifting towards the same spot that once held Jaebum’s picture with pride. In its place is a flash of peach dancing across an orange sky. It was a good shot. 

As if voicing your thoughts, you hear - What a sight. It’s a recognizable voice, and you turn swiftly. Im Jaebum.

His hands are in his pockets and he has the expression of ease. A gentle smirk on his face and his eyes make it seem like he wasn’t speaking about the photo. He’s dressed in a simple rusty red suit, that sticks out in a classic, charming manner. Red is his color, you decide. 

You have nothing to say: words don’t seem fitting in this situation and he strides next to you in easy confidence. Something he seemed born with. 

How nostalgic, is all you can say. He hums in a throaty manner, small smirk still on his face. 

You seemed to have missed me. Were you thinking about my photo? Where has all this cockiness come from?

No, you say truthfully. I was admiring my fancywork. It’s a repeat. A rewind to the events that ultimately led to your demise as a woman. Except this time is different. There’s a quiet understanding between you two, a faint connection that does not go unnoticed. You know of his advances and all the evidence he needs of your reciprocation is here. 

It is a great shot, a hum. Go on a date with me.

The abrupt nature of the question makes you look at him. His eyes cut through your soul and there is still that quiet smirk of determination. Of confidence that draws you in. You know nothing of what the true Jaebum holds but you want to know. 

I came here with someone, you admit. There’s no guilt behind your eyes. Jaebum takes this as a sign to step closer to your side, almost as if to bask in your presence and mark his territory. 

Yes, your friend. I can see him looking over at us, he laughs softly. At this, you turn the other way, and do see Jinyoung speaking with someone older, a man you recognize to be an old client. He smiles lightly at what the man says but his eyes flicker to you. You can tell those deep, wise eyes are processing the scene many feet away from him, and whatever he truly thinks is masked by another smile and slight nod of approval. 

Your thoughts are interrupted. Go on a date with me, Jaebum repeats. A dinner to celebrate another exhibition. 

You simply watch as Jinyoung continues his conversation with the older man, now refusing to look your direction. Not an outright ignorance, but you know he wants the best for you. He wants you to chase the dream. So you avert your gaze and focus on Jaebum. 

I... you hesitate. 

One dinner, Jaebum reassures. 

The scene before you would have been an excellent shot, you think. Two people, wearing almost a dangerous combination of classy attire, red on red. In the bleak of the gallery lighting with the murmurs of a crowd discussing the photography.