all the art around (including you)
Maybe people in the arts industry had a different way of communicating, but you were glad when you found someone who seemed to understand you.
♥ Characters: museum curator!Leedo (mentioned as Gunhak here) x fashion historian!reader/you
♥ Genre: fluff, slice of life
♥ Words: 2.2k
♥ A/N: Dedicated to @dat-town because two of her weaknesses are arts and Leedo, so I had to combine these two. *-* Congratulations on graduating and surviving your masters with that hell of a department! I’m so proud of you and wish you all the best in the future! Love you looooooooots! 💖
♥ Click here to be added to the TAGLIST and to let me know about your fic preferences.
You didn’t know what to expect from this particular exhibition because it would be a blessing for your research if it could be of any help, but if it turned out to be a disappointment, then you had gotten your hopes up for nothing. As a fashion historian, it wasn’t easy to have exhibitions that focused as much on your field of work as for a general historian even though clothes were usually displayed for such exhibitions. So to have a whole one dedicated to the era you had been researching for in the past month seemed like a gift by fate, destiny or however you wanted to call it.
Excited, you made your way to the RBW Gallery, one of the newer artsy sights around, hopeful that you might be able to get more in touch with your research topic, and maybe you could ask someone who was working there how they had managed to gather the information they had presented. You weren’t sure how such things worked, but at least you wanted to give it a try.
Thankfully, the exhibition itself was even better than you had imagined. There were a lot of interactive elements that would attract kids to try out different things or even just average people who didn’t know a lot about arts but wished to get involved. The descriptions beside the art pieces were also written well; professional vocabulary backed up by explanations, so that everyone would know and understand what they could see in front of their eyes. You were focused on each and every piece, and your enthusiasm didn’t die out by the end either, that’s just how good it was.
As you reached the end of the exhibition, you walked up to the young man who was the most staff-looking there (the lady reading a book in the corner didn’t seem like someone who did more than to supervise the peace of the room), hoping that he could help you with your queries. Even though he looked like more of a bodyguard with his tall, muscular build and broad shoulders, judged by the name tag attached to his beige knitted sweater, you had managed to find just the right person.
“Good morning!” You greeted him enthusiastically, bowing to show your respect. As you straightened your back, you looked up at him again, and you were glad to see a polite smile playing along his lips. He looked a bit closed-off and rigid otherwise, but the moment his lips curled upwards, he seemed a lot softer. Well, not that it would have mattered anyways, it was just nice to see another side of him so quickly.
“Good morning! How can I help you?” he inquired in a rather raspy voice that oddly matched his more mature, manly features.
“Are you the curator, right? Mr Kim?” You blinked at him, hopeful. Kim Gunhak was said to be the museum curator based on the leaflet you had been given when you had entered the RBW Gallery, and his name tag said the same, so it must have been him.
“Yes, that’s me,” he confirmed, a bit of curiosity lacing his words. You had to admit you had expected an elderly man instead of him, but it was lovely that such a young man was taking over this position. You were already quite impressed by him.
Yet, you weren’t there to waste his time by pondering over such things anyway, so you quickly introduced yourself and told him about your job and how you had been researching for the clothing style of Koreans during the era they had showcased in this exhibition. His eyes lit up when he realized that you were someone who would know what to look for in art pieces, and the sight warmed your heart.
“Oh really?” he asked back, making you blush a bit. Usually, people didn’t think too much of your profession, but he seemed to appreciate it, and you were really thankful for that. “How did you enjoy our exhibition?”
“It was so fascinating, and I liked the modern elements that you put in there for those who are not that interested in arts but they would still like to enjoy it. Oh, and I also really liked that you’ve shown that they use certain clothing pieces from that era in modern-day hanboks and even stage outfits for idols. It was really interesting,” you let him know under one breath, and when you finally took in a deep breath, you let out a bit of a giggle when you exhaled next. “Gosh, I’m blabbering so much,” you admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear to hide your embarrassment, probably to no avail.
Mr Kim smiled at you even brighter, and you swore he looked incredibly soft when he was smiling. It was a silky, tender smile, the kind that blooms flowers and invites sunshine onto a cloudy sky. It reminded you of cosy nights with a cup of tea in winter, fireworks going off in the night sky during summer, leaves creating a runway of the whole colour palette in autumn and the air being filled with the sweet fragrances of blooming flowers in spring.
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s fine. I’m really glad you’ve enjoyed it so much, and that it could live up to your expectations,” he explained his newfound delight, putting your mind at ease.
“I was just wondering if you could maybe help me with my research a bit. I mean, I’m not asking you to do it instead of me, of course. But maybe we could have a chat about this particular era and share the knowledge, so that I could be more confident in what I’m writing about,” you suggested enthusiastically, and you were yet again talking too fast and too much. A bad habit of yours when you were both embarrassed and excited.
Mr.Kim didn’t seem to mind though. He looked at you just as politely as before, and his eyes shone fondly.
“Sure, I wouldn’t mind,” he gave in and handed you a business card of his for a more convenient and smoother way of communication in the future. You promised him that you would contact him and arrange a time way before it would take place, so he could prepare and see how it fits into his schedule, then you left with a wide smile on your face and some newfound hope for the next meeting with him.
You had managed to decide on a suitable time pretty fast, so only a week later, you knocked on the door of his office at the gallery, balancing the cup tray with your other hand that you had been given for the two servings of coffee you had bought. When he opened the door, you smiled at him widely.
“Hi, Mr Kim!” You greeted him zealously, noting that he was very handsome still even though he wore a casual black formal shirt and navy-blue jeans.
“Hello! Please, come in,” he beckoned as he stepped sideways to give you more space to walk into his office. While you were doing so, he remarked: “And Gunhak is fine. I guess we don’t have that much of an age difference,” he noted, and so when you discussed what year you had been born in, you had to realize that he was right. So you agreed on calling him informally because you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, not in any way.
He offered you a seat which you thanked kindly, and as you put down the tray of the two coffee mugs onto the table, you caught sight of a tray with a teapot, two cups and further cups that were filled with honey, sugar and lemon juice. He noticed the drinks at the same time, and you didn’t know which one of you was more embarrassed.
“Oh sorry, I’ve just bought some coffee because I didn’t want to come empty-handed,” you justified, feeling a bit guilty. However, Gunhak waved off your apologies, and let a coy smile appear on his lips.
“It’s fine. I’ve also wanted to prepare something for you, so I hope you like green tea.”
“I do.” You nodded immediately, and you were 100% honest. Even though it would have been very awkward if you had hated tea, but you hadn’t said that you liked green tea just so that he wouldn’t feel burdened by his own kind gesture, it was the actual truth. Thank god it was though! “And do you like coffee?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll drink it well, don’t worry. We can always re-heat the drinks,” he pointed out reasonably, and you had to give it to him that he was absolutely right. Not to mention that his remark could definitely put an end to this awkwardness in the air, so you nodded with a smile, thankful that he knew how to solve the sudden tension.
After settling on the first drink you would have, Gunhak started with a few questions about your research, hoping to hear about it in detail. You provided him with some papers and the draft of your half-written research article, so that he could have a look at it including your bibliography and other resources. Then, he went on to talk about how he had found all the information for the exhibition, and somewhere along the way, the conversation sparked new ideas in you, details that you could try to find more on, possible future research topics that could relate to this one yet they could stand on their own just as well, and so many more thoughts and connections than you would have thought so before.
Gunhak knew a lot about the lifestyle of people during the said era, historical events, traditions and values that could indicate why they had needed to or chosen to dress the way they had done so. He was particularly resourceful, backing up what he said with information, and the way he spoke was eloquent and patient - as if he was talking to someone who wouldn’t care about arts, but he would try his best to make it seem like something fascinating. You had to admit that it had been a long time since you could have talked to someone so sophisticated, and it felt so good. As if you had been understood by someone for your enthusiasm and knowledge, it was also very rewarding.
Nevertheless, your eyes sometimes stayed on Gunhak’s features a bit more than it was necessary because you just couldn’t believe that he seemed like an ice prince, but he was actually one of the most warmhearted people you’ve known, and his words were always gentle and considerate. His smiles might not have been that frequent when he was seriously discussing a historical event in detail, but it made those times even more worth it when his lips curled upwards.
Coffee cups empty, the pot of tea also finished, you only realized how much time had passed by when it was getting dark outside, and Gunhak had to turn on the lights for you to be able to see the pages in front of you more properly.
“I should go now. It’s getting late,” you commented, looking around a bit nervously, and you were ready for him to bid his goodbye, but you were in for a surprise when he mentioned:
“There’s one more thing I would like to show you, so if you aren’t in a hurry, you can stay.”
“Y-yeah, sure, I’m not going anywhere after this,” you stuttered a bit, sudden shyness taking hold of you. You were sure that you were also blushing a bit, but how couldn’t you when he smiled at you as if he had been happy that you would stay more?
“Yet, since it’s close to dinner time, how about we order something?” he suggested after looking at the clock on the wall. When he looked back at you, you nodded, your smile saying more than anything else could in that moment.
So you indeed stayed for a bit more, and when dinner arrived, you let go of the research topic, and you talked about everything that came to your mind. He talked about his little brother (and even showed you pictures, melting your heart even more!) and how he had wanted to become a teacher, and you talked about how you had found your path to fashion history, and how it was living with three other girls in a shared flat. Gunhak was a lot more loosened up when he wasn’t talking about something his profession was related to, but you were the same, so you could understand him.
And somewhere in between those warm smiles, that mutual understanding towards each other’s enthusiasm and the hearts that were beating for the same kind of passion, something was being created as if it had been an invisible work of art, something that everyone experienced but in different doses and different ways: the art of love.














