And almost on que, just as you round the corner there it is, Momenatre Gallery in it's glory and along with it, torrential downpour and the crosswalk signals turn to a little orange walking man. At this moment your only worry is about seeking shelter within the gallery as you run across the crosswalk clutching your tote bag and to the doors of the gallery, thankful to whoever designed the building for having a little ledge just above the entrance as you no longer feel the warm pellets against your skin as you open up the heavy door, trying your best to wipe off your feet and shake yourself off before entering the gallery.

You don't know what you expected as you walked into the gallery, but you almost expected it to be the size of an art museum naively, much like the Art Institute of Chicago. Standing in the lobby, taking in the tasteful decor and plum red accent wall you're met with you fist walk in.

"Would you like a map of the gallery, Ma'am?"

Turning around you're greeted with an doorman you can only assume from his attire, an older Beta you confirm from his mild basil scent as he steps forward to extended a map towards you from the small pile in his hand.

You take the map, looking down at it as your fingers stick to the glossy material of it from then still being damp from your encounter with the downpour. "Thank you-" Your eyes adverting to his silver name tag over his heart, "Bernard." Exchanging polite smiles, eyes shifting back down to open up the map to figure out where the exhibit Jamie is apart of is located.

"Sorry I wasn't there to open up open the door for you, Ma'am, I was a little distracted," Bernard apologizes and your head whips up at both the fact you are getting an apology right now and the abrupt cough the echos throughout the gallery. Looking over your shoulder to the front desk to see the coughing culprit, an older woman with bright copper hair and thin wire glasses who eyes the doorman, but looks back to her monitor screen when she catches you looking at her as well. And when you look back at Bernard, whose eyes are still on the front desk worker despite her trying to busy herself, your eyebrows raise, you interrupted workplace flirting.

When Bernard focuses on you again he gives you a shy smile that accentuates his wrinkles of his eyes and his smile lines and you just give a wide smile back to him. "Promise I won't hold it against you," You muse.

"Very well then, I'll let you see the art now."

Nodding you turn and begin to walk, shifting your tote up your shoulder once more with the hand that holds the open gallery map. Eyeing the front desk worker when you past by it, her eyes peeking over the top of the monitor, giving her the same wide smile you gave the doorman.

It seems the way the gallery floor plan is, is that the exhibit Jamie is apart of is in the very back of the gallery, or well wind of the gallery as the various rooms surround the off-centered outside courtyard. As you enter the first room of art displays you take in how quiet the gallery is, albeit it's weekday, but it's also a weekday that had an outburst of rain. Feeling a little pep in your still squishily damp sneaker knowing that you won't have to brush shoulder with anyone or have to get frustrated from getting caught behind someone who has no awareness that other people around them since you're the only person who took refuge in the gallery and the few other visitors who you sometimes cross paths with who were here prior to you.

Floating through the first few rooms, slow walking past each art piece. You occasionally stopped to read the artist descriptors next to pieces that piqued your interest until you felt bad for not reading every other's descriptors, all worthy art that deserves to be seen and known. When you finished reading the last descriptor of this specific exhibit you floated to the next, a noticeable shift upon entering the new room at all for walls are painted a navy blue, lights cascading upon a massive sculpture made of twisted, rusted metal in the center of the room. Eyes darting around only for the sculpture to be the only thing in the room, and you admire the galleries trust in it's visitors as the sculpture is only on a slightly raised podium that you can only assume it's bolted into so no accidents occur. But other than that, no protective measures of the art are made, no elegant rope fencing it off, just a small stand next to the sculpture that reads at the top in capitalized and bold wording, "PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH". And just below it is the title along with the author's name and descriptor, 'Despair' you read out loud, looking back up towards the sculpture and you can't help but chuckle. Because, yeah, it really does perfectly encapsulate the feeling of despair as you eyes rake over the twist and crooks of the metal, getting lost as you try to follow where the sculpture eventually becomes one.

You were staring at it, trying to find some deeper meaning, when a smooth, low voice startled you.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” A smooth, low voice startles you from behind.

You flinch, shoulders raising to touch your ears as you turn around to see a man standing behind you, now facing him face to face. He was tall, with smooth jet black hair that looks both meticulously but carelessly styled from the glasses pushed on top of his dead, his stature is softened by a cream-colored buttoned up, the sleeve pushed up to his elbows and the length of the button up tucked into brown slacks. Brown almond eyes and a sense of knowing that he had just frazzle you pulling at the corners of his mouth. He smells like the ocean, not salty bad, but salty good, like you just ran along the beach, and something else, something cleaner and neutral. A beta.

“I, uh," Losing you train of thoughts when the man's eyes widen, waiting for your answer, but you can only shift back and forth on your heels as you try to straighten yourself out and not try to visibly cringe from your socks still being damp. "I was just trying to figure out if it was supposed to be a tree or a…" Turning around you look back to the sculpture, hands gesturing towards it, and now you're made very away the galleries map is still in your hand. "very abstract octopus,” you admitted, flustered. Turning back around to expect the man's eyes to be on the sculpture trying to also determine what it is, but instead when you do do his eyes are still on you, so you just wiggle your lips, trying to configure them into a small smile.

When he lets out a soft, airy laugh your shoulders deflate. "The artist said it represents the weight of modern existence, trying to do too many people in one body to please others." He pauses, now looking past you and to the sculpture, his eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing. "But personally," He begins, a quick peek of tongue swipes over his lips, his chin is now lifted, eyes no longer narrowed, but his eyebrows are still furrowed. Coming up with his own interpretation of the piece. "I think you're right. It looks like a depressed octopus. But it also looks like an elephant standing on it's hind legs if you look at it like this."

Now it's time for your eyebrows to furrow, looking over your shoulder before you get his hint and you move to stand beside him. A final look at him to note how he's standing and imitate your body to do the same, lifting you chin and look a the sculpture in its entirety. You eyebrows relax when you start to see the elephant take shape.

"Yeah, I can see it," You agree, taking the gallery map in the other hand of the side that your tote bag is on, so you're now free hand can trace the figure of the elephant. Laughing as you, because it constantly amazes you how art can take multiple shapes. "That actually makes me feel less stupid now, thanks."

Your arm falls to your side to take a look at the man once more, only to notice that he has a glimmering silver name tag like the doorman, Bernard. Only his reads "Taehyung".

a/n. be on the look out for chapter two's teaser tomorrow!

And almost on que, just as you round the corner there it is, Momenatre Gallery in it's glory and along with it, torrential downpour and the crosswalk signals turn to a little orange walking man. At this moment your only worry is about seeking shelter within the gallery as you run across the crosswalk clutching your tote bag and to the doors of the gallery, thankful to whoever designed the building for having a little ledge just above the entrance as you no longer feel the warm pellets against your skin as you open up the heavy door, trying your best to wipe off your feet and shake yourself off before entering the gallery.

You don't know what you expected as you walked into the gallery, but you almost expected it to be the size of an art museum naively, much like the Art Institute of Chicago. Standing in the lobby, taking in the tasteful decor and plum red accent wall you're met with you fist walk in.

"Would you like a map of the gallery, Ma'am?"

Turning around you're greeted with an doorman you can only assume from his attire, an older Beta you confirm from his mild basil scent as he steps forward to extended a map towards you from the small pile in his hand.

You take the map, looking down at it as your fingers stick to the glossy material of it from then still being damp from your encounter with the downpour. "Thank you-" Your eyes adverting to his silver name tag over his heart, "Bernard." Exchanging polite smiles, eyes shifting back down to open up the map to figure out where the exhibit Jamie is apart of is located.

"Sorry I wasn't there to open up open the door for you, Ma'am, I was a little distracted," Bernard apologizes and your head whips up at both the fact you are getting an apology right now and the abrupt cough the echos throughout the gallery. Looking over your shoulder to the front desk to see the coughing culprit, an older woman with bright copper hair and thin wire glasses who eyes the doorman, but looks back to her monitor screen when she catches you looking at her as well. And when you look back at Bernard, whose eyes are still on the front desk worker despite her trying to busy herself, your eyebrows raise, you interrupted workplace flirting.

When Bernard focuses on you again he gives you a shy smile that accentuates his wrinkles of his eyes and his smile lines and you just give a wide smile back to him. "Promise I won't hold it against you," You muse.

"Very well then, I'll let you see the art now."

Nodding you turn and begin to walk, shifting your tote up your shoulder once more with the hand that holds the open gallery map. Eyeing the front desk worker when you past by it, her eyes peeking over the top of the monitor, giving her the same wide smile you gave the doorman.

It seems the way the gallery floor plan is, is that the exhibit Jamie is apart of is in the very back of the gallery, or well wind of the gallery as the various rooms surround the off-centered outside courtyard. As you enter the first room of art displays you take in how quiet the gallery is, albeit it's weekday, but it's also a weekday that had an outburst of rain. Feeling a little pep in your still squishily damp sneaker knowing that you won't have to brush shoulder with anyone or have to get frustrated from getting caught behind someone who has no awareness that other people around them since you're the only person who took refuge in the gallery and the few other visitors who you sometimes cross paths with who were here prior to you.

Floating through the first few rooms, slow walking past each art piece. You occasionally stopped to read the artist descriptors next to pieces that piqued your interest until you felt bad for not reading every other's descriptors, all worthy art that deserves to be seen and known. When you finished reading the last descriptor of this specific exhibit you floated to the next, a noticeable shift upon entering the new room at all for walls are painted a navy blue, lights cascading upon a massive sculpture made of twisted, rusted metal in the center of the room. Eyes darting around only for the sculpture to be the only thing in the room, and you admire the galleries trust in it's visitors as the sculpture is only on a slightly raised podium that you can only assume it's bolted into so no accidents occur. But other than that, no protective measures of the art are made, no elegant rope fencing it off, just a small stand next to the sculpture that reads at the top in capitalized and bold wording, "PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH". And just below it is the title along with the author's name and descriptor, 'Despair' you read out loud, looking back up towards the sculpture and you can't help but chuckle. Because, yeah, it really does perfectly encapsulate the feeling of despair as you eyes rake over the twist and crooks of the metal, getting lost as you try to follow where the sculpture eventually becomes one.

You were staring at it, trying to find some deeper meaning, when a smooth, low voice startled you.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” A smooth, low voice startles you from behind.

You flinch, shoulders raising to touch your ears as you turn around to see a man standing behind you, now facing him face to face. He was tall, with smooth jet black hair that looks both meticulously but carelessly styled from the glasses pushed on top of his dead, his stature is softened by a cream-colored buttoned up, the sleeve pushed up to his elbows and the length of the button up tucked into brown slacks. Brown almond eyes and a sense of knowing that he had just frazzle you pulling at the corners of his mouth. He smells like the ocean, not salty bad, but salty good, like you just ran along the beach, and something else, something cleaner and neutral. A beta.

“I, uh," Losing you train of thoughts when the man's eyes widen, waiting for your answer, but you can only shift back and forth on your heels as you try to straighten yourself out and not try to visibly cringe from your socks still being damp. "I was just trying to figure out if it was supposed to be a tree or a…" Turning around you look back to the sculpture, hands gesturing towards it, and now you're made very away the galleries map is still in your hand. "very abstract octopus,” you admitted, flustered. Turning back around to expect the man's eyes to be on the sculpture trying to also determine what it is, but instead when you do do his eyes are still on you, so you just wiggle your lips, trying to configure them into a small smile.

When he lets out a soft, airy laugh your shoulders deflate. "The artist said it represents the weight of modern existence, trying to do too many people in one body to please others." He pauses, now looking past you and to the sculpture, his eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing. "But personally," He begins, a quick peek of tongue swipes over his lips, his chin is now lifted, eyes no longer narrowed, but his eyebrows are still furrowed. Coming up with his own interpretation of the piece. "I think you're right. It looks like a depressed octopus. But it also looks like an elephant standing on it's hind legs if you look at it like this."

Now it's time for your eyebrows to furrow, looking over your shoulder before you get his hint and you move to stand beside him. A final look at him to note how he's standing and imitate your body to do the same, lifting you chin and look a the sculpture in its entirety. You eyebrows relax when you start to see the elephant take shape.

"Yeah, I can see it," You agree, taking the gallery map in the other hand of the side that your tote bag is on, so you're now free hand can trace the figure of the elephant. Laughing as you, because it constantly amazes you how art can take multiple shapes. "That actually makes me feel less stupid now, thanks."

Your arm falls to your side to take a look at the man once more, only to notice that he has a glimmering silver name tag like the doorman, Bernard. Only his reads "Taehyung".

a/n. be on the look out for chapter two's teaser tomorrow!