Muse (1/2)
Title: Muse
Pairing: TaeKai
WC: 6519. Two-Shot
Summary: In which Jongin is somebody else's muse.
1/2
Jongin wakes up with the sound of heavy knuckles banging at his door. He groans and slowly opens his eyes for it was way too early to do anything else. He also tries to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. The constant ‘knock-knock' only grows louder in the silence of the early morning.
“What the fuck dude, do you know what time it is?” Jongin glares at Sehun, who offers a semi-apologetical smile in return. The eldest heads back to his own bed while Sehun closes the door with a loud ‘bang’. Jongin flinches, already tangled in his warm blankets. “I got neighbours, for fuck’s sake, keep it down dumbass.” comes out muffled from underneath the baby-blue sheets. Sehun smiles apologetically, amused at Jongin’s curses. He isn’t one to curse much, but he can’t deny that grumpy and sleepy Jongin is always fun to witness.
“Come on Kai, put some clothes on, the exhibition is about to start. And I swear Luhan will cut off my dick and feed it to his fat cat if I’m late.” Jongin scrunches his nose in distaste.
“Shut up Sehun, I don’t need to know the kinky perks of your already gross relationship.” Sehun just smirks “Also, what exhibition are you talking about? As you’ve already seen, for the past two weeks I’ve been too busy crying and pitying myself, so please, kindly leave. I want to be alone with my soon to be failed-me, thank you.” Jongin’s tone is anything but kind. Sehun isn’t impressed, already used to his friends antics.
“Stop being a whiny baby and just get up. You promised me you would accompany me to the art exhibition. Now, stop being a shitty friend and man up.” Jongin groans loudly against his pillow. The worst part of having Sehun come at him, edging him to wake up at an unholy hour, is that he actually promised to go with him to the dumb exhibition. It’s times like these that he asks himself why does he have to be such an amazing friend. Being a shitty friend sounds easier, if Jongin were to be honest with himself.
“Fuck you.” is his smart comeback. He un-tangles himself from the blankets and gets up from the bed, heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower because he is still gross from last night’s useless practice. Useless, indeed, seeing as he couldn’t overcome his dancer’s block or whatever it was called. He hadn’t showered, too tired and disappointed to even think about stripping himself. He kind of regrets it now, though, because he will sure have to change his sweaty sheets before lying in bed tonight.
Fifteen minutes later, and god 7:45, what an unholy hour, Jongin is ready to face the cold and grey world. Well, as ready as one could be at 7:45 without having breakfast. While the duo head to the location, Jongin asks Sehun about the exhibition. The latter furrows his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember at least half of the things Luhan told him a couple of days ago.
“Uhmm, it’s some sort of event to raise money for the Art’s department. Five students were chosen to display their paintings and such for sailing. They only picked the best out of the best.” at this, Sehun smiles, proudly” and of course they would choose Luhan.” Jongin snorts and Sehun elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up. The thing is, the ones interested in buying the Works won’t be able to until the exhibition’s last day. You see, the event is going to last from Monday to Friday, and the artists have to submit a new work every day.” Sehun finishes, with a smug look in his face, obviously proud of having remembered most of the things Luhan told him.
Sehun starts rambling about his classes and how awful his professors were. Jongin just nods, not actually paying attention to Sehun’s words, more interested in the landscape displayed in front of his eyes, naked trees and dark-grey sky, making everything look dull. Weirdly, Jongin has learnt to appreciate the quietness that comes with this season of the year, so he doesn’t really mind that everywhere he looks is painted with white and grey tones.
Once they got to the Art’s auditorium in where the exhibition was taking place, Luhan spots them from the inside and goes out to greet them.
“I’m glad you could make it!” The older says, excitement dripping from his voice.
“You said that as if we weren’t going to come.”
“Well, I have to admit I wasn’t 100% sure…” Luhan trails off.
This time, Jongin and Sehun snort together, clearly offended. “Excuse us?” Luhan just winks and drags them into the building.
The place wasn’t exactly big, but it was nicely adorned. Big banners were hanging from the ceiling, and the lamps were wrapped up in ocre and light-red wax paper to create a cozy atmosphere. There were already people inside, and there was quite the crowd, seeing that the exhibition had only opened an hour ago. Jongin guessed the students’ paintings were quite the sight for having gathered that amount of people. He wasn’t a big fan of paintings, he preferred hanging photos or posters on his walls.
“This place looks nice.” Sehun said, his gaze wandering all over the little decorations.
“Yeah, it does.” Luhan replied, a satisfied smile drawn on his small face. ”Come see my work!” He added, taking Sehun and Jongin by the wrists and dragging them to the opposite side of the entrance.
There were five white large panels displayed, each for every artist, Luhan told them. His panel was right in the middle, in which hung a beautiful paint of a young girl crying. Her back was showing and her body was lightly twisted to the front, with her face looking right up front. It looked as if somebody had called her and she had looked behind her shoulder to see who had said her name. Hey eyes were open wide, a little red from all the crying, her cheeks tear-stained. It was melancholically beautiful. Jongin let a low whistle escape from his slips. The work looked pretty realistic, Luhan was indeed, quite talented.
“Wow hyung, you’ve really outdone yourself. It looks amazing.” Jongin praised. Luhan beamed at Jongin’s words.
“Thank you Kai. It means a lot.” Jongin smiled, a little awkward at Luhan’s sincerity.
Sehun had grabbed the elder’s hand, telling him how amazing and talented he was. Jongin rolled his eyes, and walk away from the couple, giving them some privacy. He wandered silently through the rest of the paintings, avoiding the crowd that had gathered around the works exhibited. He had to admit that the paintings were incredible, no doubt the ones who had painted them were the best.
Still, that was all they were. Paintings. Great paintings. But paintings, nonetheless. He couldn’t feel anything else towards them. Yes, they were nice, more than nice, but he just didn’t feel overwhelmed or excited. Just by looking at them, they didn't fuel Jongin´s heart like dancing did. They didn´t ignite his blood like dancing did. They didn’t make him want to look at them for hours, like, oh, so many authors had written about their most precious pieces. They did nothing.
He sighed, coming to the realization that he still needed to practice and that, no matter how nice the exhibition was, he was wasting time, precious time, from practice. He decided, then, that after a quick-check of the last painting he would go straight to the dance practice’s room. No more distractions.
Or so he told himself, but once he saw the masterpiece that was hanging proudly from the White panel, all thoughts about “quick check” died down. In front of him were three canvases, all set one next to the other. In the first one, there was a ballet dancer painted, the back of his body was all that could be seen. His head slightly tilted to the side, his hands and feet ready to twirl. In the second canvas, the ballerino was performing a fouetté in Tournant, arms in place, leg elevated in position, back straight. In the last canvas, the ballerino was back to first position, having finished his twirl.
It wasn't fast, it wasn’t in the blink of an eye, but Jongin could slowly feel how his heart raced. The sense of familiarity dripping from the painted dancer’s feet and hand’s position, settling down warmly in his gut. He felt comfortable, at ease, all of a sudden. He knew this, he could relate to this. He had grown up teaching his body to stand just like the painted dancer was standing. He had learnt to perfect the fouetté the unmoving figure was trying to imitate. It felt warm, everywhere. It felt good.
It was a simple sequence, but the amount of detail the three paintings held was unbelievable. The muscles, the way the leotard clung to the dancer’s body, the position of the hands, the feet, the arms. It felt too real, too intimate.
He stared wide-eyed at the three canvas in front of him, easily picturing the motion of the twirl in his mind again and again. It wasn´t a hard task, it flow easily in his mind, filling his thoughts. Suddenly, his imaginary dancer disobeyed him and started acting on his own, tracing all too familiar steps and jumps. Moving all around his head, dancing his own compass, drawing figures in the air with his body, tracing lines with his feet, hands weaving the melody the dancer heard, legs kicki-
-something clicked inside Jongin.
He could almost taste the neat choreography his imaginary dancer had performed. And it was perfect. He smiled, feeling warm and excited. He could almost hear his dancer’s block crumbling down. It had been so easy. So, so easy. The choreography had been inside Jongin’s mind all of this time, hidden, waiting for something to wake it up from its slumber. And these paintings were the ones to trigger something inside him.
Oh boy, he couldn’t wait till he got to the dance practice room.
“Wow.” Sehun said behind him. It seemed him and Luhan had caught up with him “Holy shit, this is amazing. Is it really a painting?” He asked. Jongin turned back and Luhan raised his eyebrows at the expression on Jongin’s face. Suddenly, he smirked knowingly.
“Hyung, who painted this?”
“I’m sorry Jongin, but the artist who painted this doesn’t want to be recognized. They’re quite the shy fellow.”
“What? How’s that possible. If I had painted this I would want the whole world to know that it’s mine.” Jongin said, still awestruck. “You sure you can’t tell me their name?”
“Sorry Jongin, the artist actually begged me not to reveal their name.” Luhan argued “But their paintings are going to be here all week, so you might get lucky tomorrow if you come early.” He offered. Jongin sighed.
“Okay. Listen, I have to leave now. Thanks for inviting me hyung, I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it.” He laughed a little at Luhan´s expression. “See you later, hyung, Sehun” He waved at them and walked away. Luhan and Sehun waved back.
Suddenly, Sehun turned around to take one last look at the three paintings.
“He looks familiar.” He announced, having been intently watching the dancer expressed on the canvas.
“Yeah, he does.”
-
Next morning, Jongin was up and ready to go at 6:30 am. Last evening had been quite productive, seeing as he had actually overcome his dancer’s block. The whole performance wasn’t ready, but he felt optimistic about the whole deal. He could make it. He would make it. He felt strangely in debt to the nameless artist, their paintings had made something inside Jongin stir.
And that’s why he is heading now to the exhibition, even though he had told Sehun he would only go “once, and only once Sehun, stop bugging”.
He felt a little embarrassed at being one of the first people queuing outside the building, waiting for the doors to be opened in the chilling morning. But he consoled himself with the thoughts that he was kind of “repaying” the debt. He felt like looking and acknowledging somebody else’s hard work was important, it was a nice thing to do. And as he couldn’t actually tell the artist how he felt about his work, he would at least look out for them the entire week.
After the que started moving, Jongin was in in just a couple of minutes. Luhan was already at his spot, waving at him. He looked briefly at the other panels and noticed that his nameless artist was the only one missing. The other painters were in their places, ready to answer any questions or doubts about their works.
“You’re early Kai.” Luhan said, smiling softly.
“Hi, hyung.” He saluted “Yeah, I won’t be able to come later, so I thought this was a nice time to come by.” Jongin took a look at Luhan´s new work. The same girl from his earlier painting was smiling shyly at him from under her tiny hands.
“Hyung, this really looks like a photo. You sure you didn’t cheat?” Teased Jongin. Luhan just laughed.
“Thank you Kai, but, as much as it hurts me to say this, I know you didn’t come to see my work. Come on, go.” Luhan pushed him softly towards the last of the panels.
Jongin smiled at him and walk to his destination.
There, hanging from the white panel just like yesterday, was the painting. Because this time, it was only one.
Painted on oil, the same ballerino from yesterday’s exhibition (or at least Jongin guessed) was executing a grand jeté. Again, his back was showing, head slightly turned to the left, powerful legs kicking in the air. The beauty of the jump successfully expressed on the canvas. The hand of the artist having perfectly immortalized, in linen and colourful oils, the energetic pirouette. The sense of familiarity once again, settling comfortable inside him, warming him. His heart slowly reacted to such intimate picture, increasing its speed, pumping the sense of comfortableness trough out all Jongin’s body.
It was breathtaking, and Jongin could do nothing but stare. Just who was the one to have looked through Jongin’s eyes and captured the very essence of what ballet meant to Jongin. Because it was actually there. In the extremely realistic worn out ballet slippers, in the sheen of sweat covering the ballerino´s tan skin, in the sweaty leotard. Everything was there.
Jongin actually felt breathless. The question he wanted to voice out to the ballerino heavy on his tongue.
“Who painted you?”
-
“Kai, please, stop asking. I’ve already told you, I can’t tell you their name”- Jongin groaned loudly through the phone. After looking at the nameless artist´s painting, Jongin had felt full of life, full of energy ready to be run out of by dancing. He could picture his performance slowly closing, slowly coming to an end. He was so close he could almost grab it. There. He needed just a little push, something else. Just. Something. He was so close.
He had said to Luhan that once he knew the artist´s name he would be ready for the grand finale. Luhan had snorted and told him what a loser he was. “That´s an awful cover up for ‘I really want to know my crush's name” “It's not a crush, I’m being serious here Luhan. Help me out, goddamn”.
“Hyung you kn-“
“Shut up Jongin. Anyways, the artist’s name has nothing to do with your performance. It doesn't matter. Why can’t you just let it go, aren’t the paintings enough?”
“It matters to me!” He suddenly screamed, frustrated. Fucking Luhan, why couldn’t he tell him the artist´s name? It wasn´t as if Jongin was a creeper and would start stalking them. He just really wanted to know their name. Names were important in Jongin´s opinion. He had actually promised Luhan he wouldn't look for them. The elder had snorted, again “Yeah, right.”
“Listen Jongin, it’s not like I don’t want to tell you but-“
“Save it hyung. It’s getting late, I should probably head to bed now. Bye.” Jongin didn’t wait for a response and just ended the call.
He would find out the artist name. It didn’t matter if Luhan was being a dick and didn´t want to help him. Somebody else should be able to tell him his ghost’s name.
“No matter how much you hide, I’ll come find you.”
-
On Wednesday, Jongin decided not to talk to Luhan, but to the other artists. They should know who the mysterious artist was. Though this time Jongin showed up at the exhibition in the noon, before the doors were closed. Luhan had already left, as well as one of the artists. The other two remained in the building, silently wandering around, urging people to leave because “it’s getting late, you can always come back tomorrow! The paints aren’t going anywhere”.
Upon seizing that his best chance at talking to them was now, he approached them slowly.
“Uhmm…”He started, getting nervous once two pair of eyes set on him” You artists…, you all know each other, right?” He asked.
One of them, the one with blond hair and cat-like eyes answered him.
“Yeah…” He said while furrowing his eyebrows. “Why do you want to know for? Are you interested in someone’s painting? Listen, we can’t actually let you reserved the paintings, you will have to wait like th-“
“No, no” Jongin interrupted him. “Uhmm, no, that’s not it. I mean, I am interested in someone´s painting, but rather than their works, I´m more interested in the artist.” He finished, wetting his suddenly dried lips.
“Look, if you are interested in one of the artists you can actually talk to the-“
“Key, I think I know who he is referring to.” The other artist, a girl with short hair and high cheek-bones interrupted him. “I think he is looking for our little genius.” she smiled sweetly at Jongin before turning her head back to the other blond male.
“Right” Key said, “You’re right. I guess you’re Kai, the ballet prodigy?” He asked, raising is eyebrow in a teasing manner.
Jongin blushed a little at the nickname.
“Uhmm, I am. I mean, I’m not a prodigy I just…I just work hard, and, uhm also-“
“Jeez, kids these days sure are humble. But listen kid, as much as I would like to help you, Luhan kind of anticipated that you would be coming. Sorry.” Key offered a smile that was anything but apologetic.
Jongin groaned, suddenly feeling tired. “Fuck Luhan, that dumbass”
“Why can’t you tell me their name?” He breathed out.
Hyoyeon, feeling a little sympathetic at Jongin’s lame expression sighed and added
“Don’t look so beat up. I see you don’t even know the artist’s gender.” At her words, Jongin perked up “Let’s say our artist is brilliant. He is quite shy, though.” Upon having finished her speech, Hyoyeon winked at Jongin.
“He is quite shy, though”
“He”
“You didn’t hear anything from me. Come on Key, we still have to close the auditorium.” She suddenly turned to Key, who had been watching the whole exchange with a little smirk.
“Wait!” Jongin shouted, flinching at how loud his voice had sounded in the quite atmosphere “I haven’t seen his painting yet.” He added with a hint of desperation, lowering his tone.
“His painting”
“Ughh, fine. I’ll give you fifteen minutes only, so hurry.” Jongin nodded dumbly at Hyoyeon’s words and sprinted towards the last of the panels.
There, hanging from the white panel was the painting. This time, the same ballerino (because Jongin knew it was the same ballerino) was performing a cabriole. Both legs kicking in the air, arms open wide. It look like as if he was flying. Jongin felt like he was flying just by looking at the tan ballerino. It seemed as if it was late in the night, the false moon casting shadows all over the oil room and the ballerino’s face. Though this time Jongin could actually see a little from the immobile figure’s features, something that he hadn´t been able to, since the ballerino seemed to be always turned back. Jongin squinted his eyes, the sense of familiarity hitting him harder than the previous encounters. Why did it look so familiar?
Jongin took a step back, to appreciate the work one last time before he left. How? How could someone who wasn’t even a dancer portray so accurately, so beautifully, the art that was ballet? He couldn’t do anything but feel how his blood got ignited by the mere presence of something he felt so his. Something he felt was him. Because ballet was all Jongin was.
It looked as if the artist was living underneath Jongin’s skin, squishing his senses and feelings, milking them to the last drop. Everything that had dripped from him poured in linen.
“How do you know me so well?”
-
“He is quite shy, though.”
“He”
Jongin opened his eyes, blinking lazily and sitting in his bed. “So it’s a male”. To be honest, Jongin hadn´t thought about it when Hyoyeon had told him the piece of information. He guessed he was more worried about not being able to see the artist’s painting than actually processing his gender. But now, early in the morning, he felt tranquil enough to ponder about the new discovery. A male. Uhm. He smiled, feeling all bubbly at actually knowing something about the artist. “Why do you hide from me?” So the painter wasn’t hiding from Jongin per se, more like from the whole word. But he felt a little jealous of sharing the artist’s identity with others. If he wasn’t going to reveal himself to Jongin, neither would he to the world.
He guessed he didn’t mind not knowing how the artist looked, he was afraid it would break the spell. Though he was sure he wouldn’t mind his appearance at all, no matter how he looked. But he felt some sort of thrill about not knowing him in person. The thing he wanted to know the most was his name. He only knew one of the first letters of his name or surname. L. That was all Jongin had found when he had tried to look for the artist’s signature in his paintings. An “L” written down in the lower corner of the painting. Well, he believed it was an L, because the signature was a little bit messy and it looked like a triangle. Jongin figure it was a crooked L sort of mirrored, or something.
He sighed heavily and got out of bed. He would think about his mysterious painter later, now, he had to focus on his performance for Friday night. Tomorrow night. He felt warm all of a sudden. Thinking about being able to stand in the scenario and show the whole world what he was good at was enough to excite him in the early and chilling hours.
Also, Friday was the last day of the exhibition. He couldn’t help but feeling sad knowing he would no longer see such magnificent pictures. He had actually considered buying at least one of the works, but after checking his bank account he came to the conclusion that that wasn´t a possible option. A shame. He would have loved waking up every day and being reminded of the beauty of ballet, even before stepping inside the practice room. Truly, a shame.
-
Before heading to the practice room, once again, Jongin decided he would dropped by the exhibition, seeing as he would be until quite late practicing.
Once he walked in through the doors, he went straight to the ballerino´s artist panel. He noticed, while he advanced, how people looked at him and pointed out him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What, hadn’t he washed his face, perhaps? He kept walking towards the last panel in which there was a large mass crowded, ignoring the low whispers. Ugh. Great, now he’d have to wait for all of them to move to watch the new acquisition. Or maybe he could make his way through, though he wasn’t a fan of touching strangers.
“Told you, it’s him”
“I knew it! Come on, pay up”
Jongin was growing more and more confused every passing minute. Just what the hell? He made his way through the crowd, “excuse me” and “sorry” coming out of his lips quite frequently.
There, hanging from the white panel was Jongin doing an arabesque, one leg firmly supporting his whole weight, back arched and arms stretched. Left leg up in the air, straight like an arrow.
The ballerino nearly collapsed. Right there was him, defiant oil eyes looking straight at real ones. Just. What. On. Earth.
Why was Jongin in the painting? He touched his own face, unconsciously, tracing his cheeks and jaw whilst looking at the picture as if it were a mirror. Because it actually felt like one. A fucking oil mirror.
“Why?”
-
“Why?” Jongin asked, looking at Luhan.
“Listen Jongin, I know you’re confused” The elder said in a soft tone “, but don’t think anything weird. The artist has taken a liking to your dancing but he was too shy to ask you to pose for him.”
“Who is he?”
“I’m sorry Jong-
“You won’t tell me his name. He fucking paints me, and you still won’t tell me who he is.” Jongin cut him grabbing his own head, desperation dripping from his voice. Had he always been the danseur portrayed in the other paintings, too? Was that the reason why Jongin felt extremely familiar with the oil ballerino?
He glared at Luhan before running out of the exhibition, straight to the dance practice room, ignoring Luhan’s calls.
-
“One”
“Two”
“Three”
“Twirl”
“Jeté”
“Six”
“Jump”
The soft sound of the piano was filling Jongin’s thoughts. The steps repeating in his head like a mantra. It was late, and he should have already left, but he had special permission to remain in the building for his coming performance. He knee some other students too, had special permission which allowed them to stay in the university until late.
“Three”
“Four”
“Jump”
“Jump”
“Jump”
“Ju-
The sudden noise coming out of the room startled Jongin, who almost tripped. He paused the music and oh, hadn’t he closed the door?
He moved towards the door, peeking his head outside the room searching for the noise’s source. There, gathering some sketchbooks and pencils, kneeled on the floor, was a young…boy? Well, at least it looked like one. The squeak of the door opening alerted the stranger who looked up, frozen, when he saw Jongin standing in front of him, eyebrows raised in surprise. He stood quickly and sprinted off down the hallway, sketchbook tightly caged between his arms.
“Wait!” Suddenly shouted Jongin, taking after him. “That is the artist. Oh my god.” The boy was a fast runner, but so was Jongin. The tan ballerino chased after the artist out of the Dance building,
“Wait! Stop!” Screamed Jongin at the top of his lungs. His throat was starting to get hoarse and the cold evening did little to help his condition.
All of a sudden, the boy made a turn, entering the Art building. Jongin followed him short after, but he stopped right at the entrance. There was no sign of the boy. “Damn”
He too, entered, and started searching the artist trough out the alleys and classrooms. Unfortunately, it seemed like the boy knew the building pretty well (logically seeing as he was majoring in arts) and had hid somewhere he knew Jongin wouldn’t be able to find him. A long and heavy sigh escaped the ballerino’s lips. Damn, he had been so close.
He went back to the studio, frustrated. “What a creep. He should at least tell me his name. I’m some artist’s muse and I don’t even know his name. What the fuck”
Before stepping inside the so well-known room, Jongin caught sight of something thrown on the floor. He kneeled down and took the strange object in his hand. It was a mechanical pencil. The initials L.T were written with black marker at the side of the pencil.
“L.T, uh? I’ll be sure to return this to you, you little creep.”
-
Jongin huffed in exhaustion. There were so many names that started with LT. Lee Taesun, Lee Taehyung, Lee Taewoo, Lee Taeho. So many Lees. And it seemed they were all majoring in arts. Just great.
He gave up halfway looking through the student’s record that Sehun had gotten him. “This is stupid, Kai. You’re stupid. You don’t even know how he looks.” The younger had told him. “Yeah, buy maybe when I see his name something will click.” Wrong. He was acting silly, he knew. But, what else could he do? He felt he was so close to finding out the artist’s identity. He couldn’t give up now, even if Luhan wouldn’t help him.
Actually, he was trying to distract himself from the nervousness that would sure hit him once he started thinking about his presentation. He should be rehearsing, he knew, but his teacher had told him that “everything is perfect, Jongin. I can’t believe how you came up with such a great routine. Take some rest, relax your mind. You’ll do great.” Yeah, well, he couldn’t.
He’d decided he wouldn’t attend today’s exhibition. It would only make him more anxious. He didn’t want to think too hard about the artist, fearing he would lose his concentration. But it was a little contradicting, seeing Jongin had been checking the students’ names who major in arts in hopes of finding his artist. But he would ignore his little impasse for now.
He did want to see the artist’s painting, but he knew the auction would take place on Saturday though the only ones allowed that day would be the buyers. He wasn’t too worried though, Jongin could always ask Luhan to let him see the painting early in the morning, before the auction started.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, whisking all uneasiness out of his body. He could do this.
-
Engaged in his attire, Jongin started stretching. Ten minutes more and it would be his turn. He tried not to sweat too much, he didn’t want to spoil his make-up nor his outfit. It had taken a lot of effort for the hairdresser to lift his straight hair like that, all wild and messy. He felt the air leaving his lungs when the sound of hands clapping and cheers filled the atmosphere.
“Kim Jongin, you’re next.” One of the staff said. “Come out once we are done settling the throne, got it?” The girl asked. Jongin nodded at her.
It was time.
-
“Look at me. Can you see me? Paint me.”
“Come paint me.”
“Paint me”
“Immortalize me”
“Make me immune to the passing time.”
“Paint me”
-
Saturday morning Jongin woke up early, despite having gone to bed late the previous night, consequence of his friends dragging him out to celebrate his performance. Because, apparently it had “made everybody shit themselves, I swear Kai, you were beyond awesome. Shit, I think I’d fall for you if it wasn’t for Luhan.”
He smiled fondly at the memory of his friends complimenting him. He stood up from his bed, and took a quick shower. He changed into some ripped jeans and a black shirt, grabbed his jacket and scarf and went out.
It was dark outside, and the lamps from the campus were still on. It was cold, but not as much as previous days, the winter slowly warming up to receive the sleepy spring.
Luhan was already outside the building, waiting for him.
“Good morning, my crazy king.” He said, while bowing teasingly. Jongin felt his cheeks heat up at the mention of his performance.
“Shut up.”
“Awww, don’t get all shy on me. You did great, don’t worry. The character really suited you.” Luhan smiled warmly at him, sincere.
“T-thanks”. Jongin stammered. He truly was awful at receiving compliments. Luhan just laughed lightly at his flustered friend and open the door to the auditorium. Both boys entered the building, relishing in the warmness of the already heated-up room.
Jongin was already heading to his artist’s panel when Luhan grabbed him by the arm. He looked a little bit nervous.
“Hum, listen Kai.” He started “There’s no painting. Yet.” He added quickly seeing Jongin’s crestfallen expression. “The artist excused himself yesterday, saying he wouldn’t be able to present his work till Saturday morning, in the auction.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know, Kai. I really don’t.”
“But I won’t be in the auction!” Jongin suddenly raised his voiced, angry. “This isn’t fair! What was he thinking!? Great, just great. I won’t be able to see his last painting.” Jongin groaned, deflated.
Jongin felt truly upset. He had been expecting the moment he saw the artist’s painting. His last painting, before he walked out of Jongin’s life. It was the paintings what connected them, it was the way the artist portrayed Jongin’s passion what keep them together. And now…now he wouldn’t even get a “good-bye” or something like that. Would everything end like that? Just like that? Jongin wasn’t ready to let go, not when he had been so close.
“I know you’re mad, but guess what. Being one of the participants has its advantages, you know?” Luhan smirked. “All participants were allowed to invite two people to the auction. You owe me big, Kai.” Jongin opened his eyes wide-open, and gave Luhan a big smile before throwing himself at the elder’s arms.
“Thank you so much, hyung.” Luhan laughed whole-heartily, amused at his dongaeng´s uncharacteristic behavior.
-
“And last, we have second year Lee Taemin’s work.”
Jongin’s heart started beating like crazy. “Lee Taemin. Your name is Lee Taemin.” The ballerino felt how his palms started sweating from anticipation. He raised his neck a little. There were a lot of people, and Jongin was seated in the back, as he was an invited and not an actual buyer. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he saw Key coming out on stage, instead of Lee Taemin.
Key walked towards the announcer and whispered something to him. The announcer nodded and started speaking again.
“Unfortunately, it looks like Lee Taemin won’t be joining us today. However, we will still present his five paintings, so please, anticipate them.”
Jongin felt breathless. “What?” He remained seated in the plastic chair, trying to process the whole situation. “Why? Why can’t I meet you?”
One by one, Lee Taemin’s paintings were sold, Jongin wincing at every price the buyers shouted.
“This picture here, though it’s for selling, won’t be deliver to the buyer today. The paint is still fresh seeing as the artist finished this early in the morning, so we will deliver the painting once it’s fully dried. Sorry for any inconvenience. We will proceed now with the last paint of the auction.” The announcer said through the microphone.
There, in all its glory, hung Lee Taemin’s last masterpiece. Seated in a gold throne upholstered with red velvet was Jongin, right leg hanging from the throne’s arm and left leg folded next to his chest. The fingers from his right arm were touching his plump lips, his left arm laid on top of his left knee. The look of his eyes was what got Jongin shaking in his seat. The madness expressed in his oil eyes was overwhelming, just as his crooked smiled. The crazy king seated in white clothes gave such a strong vibe of mental instability, it was terrifying. It was absolutely perfect.
The room suddenly filled with the voices of the interested buyers, spitting out ridiculous amounts of money.
So this was the good-bye. Jongin felt something warm blooming in the center of his chest. The fact that Taemin had watched his performance was making him feel weirdly pleased. While the auction was still going he got up, and silently made his way out of the room.
That was it. He hadn’t met Taemin, and Jongin kind of felt he never would. The painter had waltzed out of Jongin´s life in such a rapid motion, he hadn’t even been able to graze the edges of Lee Taemin. The weight of Lee Taemin’s mechanical pencil sitting heavy in his jacket’s pocket.
Just as he was walking out of the building, he stumbled upon someone, knocking them down to the floor.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I was distracted, I didn’t see you.” Jongin crouched down and offered his hand.
It was a boy with short jet black hair, pretty messy, Jongin noticed.
“Ugh, no, it was me who was distracted. I’m sorry.” The boy took Jongin´s hands and he couldn’t help but notice that it was stained with white and golden oil. The raven-haired helped himself up. “Thanks. And aga-“ He froze when he saw Jongin’s face, and tried to untagled his hand from the ballerino’s. But Jongin didn’t let go.
“You.” He whispered, noticing how his face and clothes were also coloured in different shades of oil. Jongin couldn’t tear his gaze off of the artist. His lips were plump, just like Jongin’s, but they held a rosy colour his didn’t. He was shorter than the ballerino. His face was quite androgynous, though the sharp line of his jaw and his broad shoulders gave his gender away. He had dark bags under his eyes.
“Pretty. Handsome”
“Why?” The danseur asked, not letting go of Taemin’s hand.
“I’m sorry.” Taemin suddenly blurted out. An awkward silence fell upon them. Jongin’s tongue was heavy with questions, but it seemed like his voice didn’t want to cooperate. He remembered, all of a sudden, the mechanical pencil inside his pocket. He let go of Taemin’s hand and fished for the pencil.
“Here. This is yours.” He said softly, afraid any louder tone would scare the artist away. “I found it when uhmm…” He trailed off, presenting the pencil to Taemin.
The artist blushed at the memory of such embarrassing situation, taking the pencil from Jongin’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“Shit, why is this so awkward, what should I do?”
Unexpectedly, it was Taemin who broke the silence this time.
“Look, I’m sorry I painted you without any sort of permission. It was rude.” He said, sighing. “But I don’t regret it.” He finished looking into Jongin’s eyes.
“Me neither.” He answered, smiling softly. Taemin smiled back, racing Jongin’s heart.
“I’m Kim Jongin, by the way. But I guess you already know.” Jongin extended his hand, and Taemin took it between his smaller ones, shaking it.
“Nice to meet you Kim Jongin. I’m Lee Taemin.” The artist said, warm smile draw on his lips.
“I know. I have been wanting to meet you for so long.”
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for even longer.”
wow that was long
first of all, I want to thank my cute beta fujoshi100, who helped me a lot, thank you honey <33
so, english is not my first language and this is my first fic, so im nervous af
please, tell me what you think, liked it? hated it?
thanks for reading<3
Pairing: TaeKai
WC: 6519. Two-Shot
Summary: In which Jongin is somebody else's muse.
1/2
Jongin wakes up with the sound of heavy knuckles banging at his door. He groans and slowly opens his eyes for it was way too early to do anything else. He also tries to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. The constant ‘knock-knock' only grows louder in the silence of the early morning.
“What the fuck dude, do you know what time it is?” Jongin glares at Sehun, who offers a semi-apologetical smile in return. The eldest heads back to his own bed while Sehun closes the door with a loud ‘bang’. Jongin flinches, already tangled in his warm blankets. “I got neighbours, for fuck’s sake, keep it down dumbass.” comes out muffled from underneath the baby-blue sheets. Sehun smiles apologetically, amused at Jongin’s curses. He isn’t one to curse much, but he can’t deny that grumpy and sleepy Jongin is always fun to witness.
“Come on Kai, put some clothes on, the exhibition is about to start. And I swear Luhan will cut off my dick and feed it to his fat cat if I’m late.” Jongin scrunches his nose in distaste.
“Shut up Sehun, I don’t need to know the kinky perks of your already gross relationship.” Sehun just smirks “Also, what exhibition are you talking about? As you’ve already seen, for the past two weeks I’ve been too busy crying and pitying myself, so please, kindly leave. I want to be alone with my soon to be failed-me, thank you.” Jongin’s tone is anything but kind. Sehun isn’t impressed, already used to his friends antics.
“Stop being a whiny baby and just get up. You promised me you would accompany me to the art exhibition. Now, stop being a shitty friend and man up.” Jongin groans loudly against his pillow. The worst part of having Sehun come at him, edging him to wake up at an unholy hour, is that he actually promised to go with him to the dumb exhibition. It’s times like these that he asks himself why does he have to be such an amazing friend. Being a shitty friend sounds easier, if Jongin were to be honest with himself.
“Fuck you.” is his smart comeback. He un-tangles himself from the blankets and gets up from the bed, heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower because he is still gross from last night’s useless practice. Useless, indeed, seeing as he couldn’t overcome his dancer’s block or whatever it was called. He hadn’t showered, too tired and disappointed to even think about stripping himself. He kind of regrets it now, though, because he will sure have to change his sweaty sheets before lying in bed tonight.
Fifteen minutes later, and god 7:45, what an unholy hour, Jongin is ready to face the cold and grey world. Well, as ready as one could be at 7:45 without having breakfast. While the duo head to the location, Jongin asks Sehun about the exhibition. The latter furrows his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember at least half of the things Luhan told him a couple of days ago.
“Uhmm, it’s some sort of event to raise money for the Art’s department. Five students were chosen to display their paintings and such for sailing. They only picked the best out of the best.” at this, Sehun smiles, proudly” and of course they would choose Luhan.” Jongin snorts and Sehun elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up. The thing is, the ones interested in buying the Works won’t be able to until the exhibition’s last day. You see, the event is going to last from Monday to Friday, and the artists have to submit a new work every day.” Sehun finishes, with a smug look in his face, obviously proud of having remembered most of the things Luhan told him.
Sehun starts rambling about his classes and how awful his professors were. Jongin just nods, not actually paying attention to Sehun’s words, more interested in the landscape displayed in front of his eyes, naked trees and dark-grey sky, making everything look dull. Weirdly, Jongin has learnt to appreciate the quietness that comes with this season of the year, so he doesn’t really mind that everywhere he looks is painted with white and grey tones.
Once they got to the Art’s auditorium in where the exhibition was taking place, Luhan spots them from the inside and goes out to greet them.
“I’m glad you could make it!” The older says, excitement dripping from his voice.
“You said that as if we weren’t going to come.”
“Well, I have to admit I wasn’t 100% sure…” Luhan trails off.
This time, Jongin and Sehun snort together, clearly offended. “Excuse us?” Luhan just winks and drags them into the building.
The place wasn’t exactly big, but it was nicely adorned. Big banners were hanging from the ceiling, and the lamps were wrapped up in ocre and light-red wax paper to create a cozy atmosphere. There were already people inside, and there was quite the crowd, seeing that the exhibition had only opened an hour ago. Jongin guessed the students’ paintings were quite the sight for having gathered that amount of people. He wasn’t a big fan of paintings, he preferred hanging photos or posters on his walls.
“This place looks nice.” Sehun said, his gaze wandering all over the little decorations.
“Yeah, it does.” Luhan replied, a satisfied smile drawn on his small face. ”Come see my work!” He added, taking Sehun and Jongin by the wrists and dragging them to the opposite side of the entrance.
There were five white large panels displayed, each for every artist, Luhan told them. His panel was right in the middle, in which hung a beautiful paint of a young girl crying. Her back was showing and her body was lightly twisted to the front, with her face looking right up front. It looked as if somebody had called her and she had looked behind her shoulder to see who had said her name. Hey eyes were open wide, a little red from all the crying, her cheeks tear-stained. It was melancholically beautiful. Jongin let a low whistle escape from his slips. The work looked pretty realistic, Luhan was indeed, quite talented.
“Wow hyung, you’ve really outdone yourself. It looks amazing.” Jongin praised. Luhan beamed at Jongin’s words.
“Thank you Kai. It means a lot.” Jongin smiled, a little awkward at Luhan’s sincerity.
Sehun had grabbed the elder’s hand, telling him how amazing and talented he was. Jongin rolled his eyes, and walk away from the couple, giving them some privacy. He wandered silently through the rest of the paintings, avoiding the crowd that had gathered around the works exhibited. He had to admit that the paintings were incredible, no doubt the ones who had painted them were the best.
Still, that was all they were. Paintings. Great paintings. But paintings, nonetheless. He couldn’t feel anything else towards them. Yes, they were nice, more than nice, but he just didn’t feel overwhelmed or excited. Just by looking at them, they didn't fuel Jongin´s heart like dancing did. They didn´t ignite his blood like dancing did. They didn’t make him want to look at them for hours, like, oh, so many authors had written about their most precious pieces. They did nothing.
He sighed, coming to the realization that he still needed to practice and that, no matter how nice the exhibition was, he was wasting time, precious time, from practice. He decided, then, that after a quick-check of the last painting he would go straight to the dance practice’s room. No more distractions.
Or so he told himself, but once he saw the masterpiece that was hanging proudly from the White panel, all thoughts about “quick check” died down. In front of him were three canvases, all set one next to the other. In the first one, there was a ballet dancer painted, the back of his body was all that could be seen. His head slightly tilted to the side, his hands and feet ready to twirl. In the second canvas, the ballerino was performing a fouetté in Tournant, arms in place, leg elevated in position, back straight. In the last canvas, the ballerino was back to first position, having finished his twirl.
It wasn't fast, it wasn’t in the blink of an eye, but Jongin could slowly feel how his heart raced. The sense of familiarity dripping from the painted dancer’s feet and hand’s position, settling down warmly in his gut. He felt comfortable, at ease, all of a sudden. He knew this, he could relate to this. He had grown up teaching his body to stand just like the painted dancer was standing. He had learnt to perfect the fouetté the unmoving figure was trying to imitate. It felt warm, everywhere. It felt good.
It was a simple sequence, but the amount of detail the three paintings held was unbelievable. The muscles, the way the leotard clung to the dancer’s body, the position of the hands, the feet, the arms. It felt too real, too intimate.
He stared wide-eyed at the three canvas in front of him, easily picturing the motion of the twirl in his mind again and again. It wasn´t a hard task, it flow easily in his mind, filling his thoughts. Suddenly, his imaginary dancer disobeyed him and started acting on his own, tracing all too familiar steps and jumps. Moving all around his head, dancing his own compass, drawing figures in the air with his body, tracing lines with his feet, hands weaving the melody the dancer heard, legs kicki-
-something clicked inside Jongin.
He could almost taste the neat choreography his imaginary dancer had performed. And it was perfect. He smiled, feeling warm and excited. He could almost hear his dancer’s block crumbling down. It had been so easy. So, so easy. The choreography had been inside Jongin’s mind all of this time, hidden, waiting for something to wake it up from its slumber. And these paintings were the ones to trigger something inside him.
Oh boy, he couldn’t wait till he got to the dance practice room.
“Wow.” Sehun said behind him. It seemed him and Luhan had caught up with him “Holy shit, this is amazing. Is it really a painting?” He asked. Jongin turned back and Luhan raised his eyebrows at the expression on Jongin’s face. Suddenly, he smirked knowingly.
“Hyung, who painted this?”
“I’m sorry Jongin, but the artist who painted this doesn’t want to be recognized. They’re quite the shy fellow.”
“What? How’s that possible. If I had painted this I would want the whole world to know that it’s mine.” Jongin said, still awestruck. “You sure you can’t tell me their name?”
“Sorry Jongin, the artist actually begged me not to reveal their name.” Luhan argued “But their paintings are going to be here all week, so you might get lucky tomorrow if you come early.” He offered. Jongin sighed.
“Okay. Listen, I have to leave now. Thanks for inviting me hyung, I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it.” He laughed a little at Luhan´s expression. “See you later, hyung, Sehun” He waved at them and walked away. Luhan and Sehun waved back.
Suddenly, Sehun turned around to take one last look at the three paintings.
“He looks familiar.” He announced, having been intently watching the dancer expressed on the canvas.
“Yeah, he does.”
-
Next morning, Jongin was up and ready to go at 6:30 am. Last evening had been quite productive, seeing as he had actually overcome his dancer’s block. The whole performance wasn’t ready, but he felt optimistic about the whole deal. He could make it. He would make it. He felt strangely in debt to the nameless artist, their paintings had made something inside Jongin stir.
And that’s why he is heading now to the exhibition, even though he had told Sehun he would only go “once, and only once Sehun, stop bugging”.
He felt a little embarrassed at being one of the first people queuing outside the building, waiting for the doors to be opened in the chilling morning. But he consoled himself with the thoughts that he was kind of “repaying” the debt. He felt like looking and acknowledging somebody else’s hard work was important, it was a nice thing to do. And as he couldn’t actually tell the artist how he felt about his work, he would at least look out for them the entire week.
After the que started moving, Jongin was in in just a couple of minutes. Luhan was already at his spot, waving at him. He looked briefly at the other panels and noticed that his nameless artist was the only one missing. The other painters were in their places, ready to answer any questions or doubts about their works.
“You’re early Kai.” Luhan said, smiling softly.
“Hi, hyung.” He saluted “Yeah, I won’t be able to come later, so I thought this was a nice time to come by.” Jongin took a look at Luhan´s new work. The same girl from his earlier painting was smiling shyly at him from under her tiny hands.
“Hyung, this really looks like a photo. You sure you didn’t cheat?” Teased Jongin. Luhan just laughed.
“Thank you Kai, but, as much as it hurts me to say this, I know you didn’t come to see my work. Come on, go.” Luhan pushed him softly towards the last of the panels.
Jongin smiled at him and walk to his destination.
There, hanging from the white panel just like yesterday, was the painting. Because this time, it was only one.
Painted on oil, the same ballerino from yesterday’s exhibition (or at least Jongin guessed) was executing a grand jeté. Again, his back was showing, head slightly turned to the left, powerful legs kicking in the air. The beauty of the jump successfully expressed on the canvas. The hand of the artist having perfectly immortalized, in linen and colourful oils, the energetic pirouette. The sense of familiarity once again, settling comfortable inside him, warming him. His heart slowly reacted to such intimate picture, increasing its speed, pumping the sense of comfortableness trough out all Jongin’s body.
It was breathtaking, and Jongin could do nothing but stare. Just who was the one to have looked through Jongin’s eyes and captured the very essence of what ballet meant to Jongin. Because it was actually there. In the extremely realistic worn out ballet slippers, in the sheen of sweat covering the ballerino´s tan skin, in the sweaty leotard. Everything was there.
Jongin actually felt breathless. The question he wanted to voice out to the ballerino heavy on his tongue.
“Who painted you?”
-
“Kai, please, stop asking. I’ve already told you, I can’t tell you their name”- Jongin groaned loudly through the phone. After looking at the nameless artist´s painting, Jongin had felt full of life, full of energy ready to be run out of by dancing. He could picture his performance slowly closing, slowly coming to an end. He was so close he could almost grab it. There. He needed just a little push, something else. Just. Something. He was so close.
He had said to Luhan that once he knew the artist´s name he would be ready for the grand finale. Luhan had snorted and told him what a loser he was. “That´s an awful cover up for ‘I really want to know my crush's name” “It's not a crush, I’m being serious here Luhan. Help me out, goddamn”.
“Hyung you kn-“
“Shut up Jongin. Anyways, the artist’s name has nothing to do with your performance. It doesn't matter. Why can’t you just let it go, aren’t the paintings enough?”
“It matters to me!” He suddenly screamed, frustrated. Fucking Luhan, why couldn’t he tell him the artist´s name? It wasn´t as if Jongin was a creeper and would start stalking them. He just really wanted to know their name. Names were important in Jongin´s opinion. He had actually promised Luhan he wouldn't look for them. The elder had snorted, again “Yeah, right.”
“Listen Jongin, it’s not like I don’t want to tell you but-“
“Save it hyung. It’s getting late, I should probably head to bed now. Bye.” Jongin didn’t wait for a response and just ended the call.
He would find out the artist name. It didn’t matter if Luhan was being a dick and didn´t want to help him. Somebody else should be able to tell him his ghost’s name.
“No matter how much you hide, I’ll come find you.”
-
On Wednesday, Jongin decided not to talk to Luhan, but to the other artists. They should know who the mysterious artist was. Though this time Jongin showed up at the exhibition in the noon, before the doors were closed. Luhan had already left, as well as one of the artists. The other two remained in the building, silently wandering around, urging people to leave because “it’s getting late, you can always come back tomorrow! The paints aren’t going anywhere”.
Upon seizing that his best chance at talking to them was now, he approached them slowly.
“Uhmm…”He started, getting nervous once two pair of eyes set on him” You artists…, you all know each other, right?” He asked.
One of them, the one with blond hair and cat-like eyes answered him.
“Yeah…” He said while furrowing his eyebrows. “Why do you want to know for? Are you interested in someone’s painting? Listen, we can’t actually let you reserved the paintings, you will have to wait like th-“
“No, no” Jongin interrupted him. “Uhmm, no, that’s not it. I mean, I am interested in someone´s painting, but rather than their works, I´m more interested in the artist.” He finished, wetting his suddenly dried lips.
“Look, if you are interested in one of the artists you can actually talk to the-“
“Key, I think I know who he is referring to.” The other artist, a girl with short hair and high cheek-bones interrupted him. “I think he is looking for our little genius.” she smiled sweetly at Jongin before turning her head back to the other blond male.
“Right” Key said, “You’re right. I guess you’re Kai, the ballet prodigy?” He asked, raising is eyebrow in a teasing manner.
Jongin blushed a little at the nickname.
“Uhmm, I am. I mean, I’m not a prodigy I just…I just work hard, and, uhm also-“
“Jeez, kids these days sure are humble. But listen kid, as much as I would like to help you, Luhan kind of anticipated that you would be coming. Sorry.” Key offered a smile that was anything but apologetic.
Jongin groaned, suddenly feeling tired. “Fuck Luhan, that dumbass”
“Why can’t you tell me their name?” He breathed out.
Hyoyeon, feeling a little sympathetic at Jongin’s lame expression sighed and added
“Don’t look so beat up. I see you don’t even know the artist’s gender.” At her words, Jongin perked up “Let’s say our artist is brilliant. He is quite shy, though.” Upon having finished her speech, Hyoyeon winked at Jongin.
“He is quite shy, though”
“He”
“You didn’t hear anything from me. Come on Key, we still have to close the auditorium.” She suddenly turned to Key, who had been watching the whole exchange with a little smirk.
“Wait!” Jongin shouted, flinching at how loud his voice had sounded in the quite atmosphere “I haven’t seen his painting yet.” He added with a hint of desperation, lowering his tone.
“His painting”
“Ughh, fine. I’ll give you fifteen minutes only, so hurry.” Jongin nodded dumbly at Hyoyeon’s words and sprinted towards the last of the panels.
There, hanging from the white panel was the painting. This time, the same ballerino (because Jongin knew it was the same ballerino) was performing a cabriole. Both legs kicking in the air, arms open wide. It look like as if he was flying. Jongin felt like he was flying just by looking at the tan ballerino. It seemed as if it was late in the night, the false moon casting shadows all over the oil room and the ballerino’s face. Though this time Jongin could actually see a little from the immobile figure’s features, something that he hadn´t been able to, since the ballerino seemed to be always turned back. Jongin squinted his eyes, the sense of familiarity hitting him harder than the previous encounters. Why did it look so familiar?
Jongin took a step back, to appreciate the work one last time before he left. How? How could someone who wasn’t even a dancer portray so accurately, so beautifully, the art that was ballet? He couldn’t do anything but feel how his blood got ignited by the mere presence of something he felt so his. Something he felt was him. Because ballet was all Jongin was.
It looked as if the artist was living underneath Jongin’s skin, squishing his senses and feelings, milking them to the last drop. Everything that had dripped from him poured in linen.
“How do you know me so well?”
-
“He is quite shy, though.”
“He”
Jongin opened his eyes, blinking lazily and sitting in his bed. “So it’s a male”. To be honest, Jongin hadn´t thought about it when Hyoyeon had told him the piece of information. He guessed he was more worried about not being able to see the artist’s painting than actually processing his gender. But now, early in the morning, he felt tranquil enough to ponder about the new discovery. A male. Uhm. He smiled, feeling all bubbly at actually knowing something about the artist. “Why do you hide from me?” So the painter wasn’t hiding from Jongin per se, more like from the whole word. But he felt a little jealous of sharing the artist’s identity with others. If he wasn’t going to reveal himself to Jongin, neither would he to the world.
He guessed he didn’t mind not knowing how the artist looked, he was afraid it would break the spell. Though he was sure he wouldn’t mind his appearance at all, no matter how he looked. But he felt some sort of thrill about not knowing him in person. The thing he wanted to know the most was his name. He only knew one of the first letters of his name or surname. L. That was all Jongin had found when he had tried to look for the artist’s signature in his paintings. An “L” written down in the lower corner of the painting. Well, he believed it was an L, because the signature was a little bit messy and it looked like a triangle. Jongin figure it was a crooked L sort of mirrored, or something.
He sighed heavily and got out of bed. He would think about his mysterious painter later, now, he had to focus on his performance for Friday night. Tomorrow night. He felt warm all of a sudden. Thinking about being able to stand in the scenario and show the whole world what he was good at was enough to excite him in the early and chilling hours.
Also, Friday was the last day of the exhibition. He couldn’t help but feeling sad knowing he would no longer see such magnificent pictures. He had actually considered buying at least one of the works, but after checking his bank account he came to the conclusion that that wasn´t a possible option. A shame. He would have loved waking up every day and being reminded of the beauty of ballet, even before stepping inside the practice room. Truly, a shame.
-
Before heading to the practice room, once again, Jongin decided he would dropped by the exhibition, seeing as he would be until quite late practicing.
Once he walked in through the doors, he went straight to the ballerino´s artist panel. He noticed, while he advanced, how people looked at him and pointed out him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What, hadn’t he washed his face, perhaps? He kept walking towards the last panel in which there was a large mass crowded, ignoring the low whispers. Ugh. Great, now he’d have to wait for all of them to move to watch the new acquisition. Or maybe he could make his way through, though he wasn’t a fan of touching strangers.
“Told you, it’s him”
“I knew it! Come on, pay up”
Jongin was growing more and more confused every passing minute. Just what the hell? He made his way through the crowd, “excuse me” and “sorry” coming out of his lips quite frequently.
There, hanging from the white panel was Jongin doing an arabesque, one leg firmly supporting his whole weight, back arched and arms stretched. Left leg up in the air, straight like an arrow.
The ballerino nearly collapsed. Right there was him, defiant oil eyes looking straight at real ones. Just. What. On. Earth.
Why was Jongin in the painting? He touched his own face, unconsciously, tracing his cheeks and jaw whilst looking at the picture as if it were a mirror. Because it actually felt like one. A fucking oil mirror.
“Why?”
-
“Why?” Jongin asked, looking at Luhan.
“Listen Jongin, I know you’re confused” The elder said in a soft tone “, but don’t think anything weird. The artist has taken a liking to your dancing but he was too shy to ask you to pose for him.”
“Who is he?”
“I’m sorry Jong-
“You won’t tell me his name. He fucking paints me, and you still won’t tell me who he is.” Jongin cut him grabbing his own head, desperation dripping from his voice. Had he always been the danseur portrayed in the other paintings, too? Was that the reason why Jongin felt extremely familiar with the oil ballerino?
He glared at Luhan before running out of the exhibition, straight to the dance practice room, ignoring Luhan’s calls.
-
“One”
“Two”
“Three”
“Twirl”
“Jeté”
“Six”
“Jump”
The soft sound of the piano was filling Jongin’s thoughts. The steps repeating in his head like a mantra. It was late, and he should have already left, but he had special permission to remain in the building for his coming performance. He knee some other students too, had special permission which allowed them to stay in the university until late.
“Three”
“Four”
“Jump”
“Jump”
“Jump”
“Ju-
The sudden noise coming out of the room startled Jongin, who almost tripped. He paused the music and oh, hadn’t he closed the door?
He moved towards the door, peeking his head outside the room searching for the noise’s source. There, gathering some sketchbooks and pencils, kneeled on the floor, was a young…boy? Well, at least it looked like one. The squeak of the door opening alerted the stranger who looked up, frozen, when he saw Jongin standing in front of him, eyebrows raised in surprise. He stood quickly and sprinted off down the hallway, sketchbook tightly caged between his arms.
“Wait!” Suddenly shouted Jongin, taking after him. “That is the artist. Oh my god.” The boy was a fast runner, but so was Jongin. The tan ballerino chased after the artist out of the Dance building,
“Wait! Stop!” Screamed Jongin at the top of his lungs. His throat was starting to get hoarse and the cold evening did little to help his condition.
All of a sudden, the boy made a turn, entering the Art building. Jongin followed him short after, but he stopped right at the entrance. There was no sign of the boy. “Damn”
He too, entered, and started searching the artist trough out the alleys and classrooms. Unfortunately, it seemed like the boy knew the building pretty well (logically seeing as he was majoring in arts) and had hid somewhere he knew Jongin wouldn’t be able to find him. A long and heavy sigh escaped the ballerino’s lips. Damn, he had been so close.
He went back to the studio, frustrated. “What a creep. He should at least tell me his name. I’m some artist’s muse and I don’t even know his name. What the fuck”
Before stepping inside the so well-known room, Jongin caught sight of something thrown on the floor. He kneeled down and took the strange object in his hand. It was a mechanical pencil. The initials L.T were written with black marker at the side of the pencil.
“L.T, uh? I’ll be sure to return this to you, you little creep.”
-
Jongin huffed in exhaustion. There were so many names that started with LT. Lee Taesun, Lee Taehyung, Lee Taewoo, Lee Taeho. So many Lees. And it seemed they were all majoring in arts. Just great.
He gave up halfway looking through the student’s record that Sehun had gotten him. “This is stupid, Kai. You’re stupid. You don’t even know how he looks.” The younger had told him. “Yeah, buy maybe when I see his name something will click.” Wrong. He was acting silly, he knew. But, what else could he do? He felt he was so close to finding out the artist’s identity. He couldn’t give up now, even if Luhan wouldn’t help him.
Actually, he was trying to distract himself from the nervousness that would sure hit him once he started thinking about his presentation. He should be rehearsing, he knew, but his teacher had told him that “everything is perfect, Jongin. I can’t believe how you came up with such a great routine. Take some rest, relax your mind. You’ll do great.” Yeah, well, he couldn’t.
He’d decided he wouldn’t attend today’s exhibition. It would only make him more anxious. He didn’t want to think too hard about the artist, fearing he would lose his concentration. But it was a little contradicting, seeing Jongin had been checking the students’ names who major in arts in hopes of finding his artist. But he would ignore his little impasse for now.
He did want to see the artist’s painting, but he knew the auction would take place on Saturday though the only ones allowed that day would be the buyers. He wasn’t too worried though, Jongin could always ask Luhan to let him see the painting early in the morning, before the auction started.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, whisking all uneasiness out of his body. He could do this.
-
Engaged in his attire, Jongin started stretching. Ten minutes more and it would be his turn. He tried not to sweat too much, he didn’t want to spoil his make-up nor his outfit. It had taken a lot of effort for the hairdresser to lift his straight hair like that, all wild and messy. He felt the air leaving his lungs when the sound of hands clapping and cheers filled the atmosphere.
“Kim Jongin, you’re next.” One of the staff said. “Come out once we are done settling the throne, got it?” The girl asked. Jongin nodded at her.
It was time.
-
“Look at me. Can you see me? Paint me.”
“Come paint me.”
“Paint me”
“Immortalize me”
“Make me immune to the passing time.”
“Paint me”
-
Saturday morning Jongin woke up early, despite having gone to bed late the previous night, consequence of his friends dragging him out to celebrate his performance. Because, apparently it had “made everybody shit themselves, I swear Kai, you were beyond awesome. Shit, I think I’d fall for you if it wasn’t for Luhan.”
He smiled fondly at the memory of his friends complimenting him. He stood up from his bed, and took a quick shower. He changed into some ripped jeans and a black shirt, grabbed his jacket and scarf and went out.
It was dark outside, and the lamps from the campus were still on. It was cold, but not as much as previous days, the winter slowly warming up to receive the sleepy spring.
Luhan was already outside the building, waiting for him.
“Good morning, my crazy king.” He said, while bowing teasingly. Jongin felt his cheeks heat up at the mention of his performance.
“Shut up.”
“Awww, don’t get all shy on me. You did great, don’t worry. The character really suited you.” Luhan smiled warmly at him, sincere.
“T-thanks”. Jongin stammered. He truly was awful at receiving compliments. Luhan just laughed lightly at his flustered friend and open the door to the auditorium. Both boys entered the building, relishing in the warmness of the already heated-up room.
Jongin was already heading to his artist’s panel when Luhan grabbed him by the arm. He looked a little bit nervous.
“Hum, listen Kai.” He started “There’s no painting. Yet.” He added quickly seeing Jongin’s crestfallen expression. “The artist excused himself yesterday, saying he wouldn’t be able to present his work till Saturday morning, in the auction.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know, Kai. I really don’t.”
“But I won’t be in the auction!” Jongin suddenly raised his voiced, angry. “This isn’t fair! What was he thinking!? Great, just great. I won’t be able to see his last painting.” Jongin groaned, deflated.
Jongin felt truly upset. He had been expecting the moment he saw the artist’s painting. His last painting, before he walked out of Jongin’s life. It was the paintings what connected them, it was the way the artist portrayed Jongin’s passion what keep them together. And now…now he wouldn’t even get a “good-bye” or something like that. Would everything end like that? Just like that? Jongin wasn’t ready to let go, not when he had been so close.
“I know you’re mad, but guess what. Being one of the participants has its advantages, you know?” Luhan smirked. “All participants were allowed to invite two people to the auction. You owe me big, Kai.” Jongin opened his eyes wide-open, and gave Luhan a big smile before throwing himself at the elder’s arms.
“Thank you so much, hyung.” Luhan laughed whole-heartily, amused at his dongaeng´s uncharacteristic behavior.
-
“And last, we have second year Lee Taemin’s work.”
Jongin’s heart started beating like crazy. “Lee Taemin. Your name is Lee Taemin.” The ballerino felt how his palms started sweating from anticipation. He raised his neck a little. There were a lot of people, and Jongin was seated in the back, as he was an invited and not an actual buyer. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he saw Key coming out on stage, instead of Lee Taemin.
Key walked towards the announcer and whispered something to him. The announcer nodded and started speaking again.
“Unfortunately, it looks like Lee Taemin won’t be joining us today. However, we will still present his five paintings, so please, anticipate them.”
Jongin felt breathless. “What?” He remained seated in the plastic chair, trying to process the whole situation. “Why? Why can’t I meet you?”
One by one, Lee Taemin’s paintings were sold, Jongin wincing at every price the buyers shouted.
“This picture here, though it’s for selling, won’t be deliver to the buyer today. The paint is still fresh seeing as the artist finished this early in the morning, so we will deliver the painting once it’s fully dried. Sorry for any inconvenience. We will proceed now with the last paint of the auction.” The announcer said through the microphone.
There, in all its glory, hung Lee Taemin’s last masterpiece. Seated in a gold throne upholstered with red velvet was Jongin, right leg hanging from the throne’s arm and left leg folded next to his chest. The fingers from his right arm were touching his plump lips, his left arm laid on top of his left knee. The look of his eyes was what got Jongin shaking in his seat. The madness expressed in his oil eyes was overwhelming, just as his crooked smiled. The crazy king seated in white clothes gave such a strong vibe of mental instability, it was terrifying. It was absolutely perfect.
The room suddenly filled with the voices of the interested buyers, spitting out ridiculous amounts of money.
So this was the good-bye. Jongin felt something warm blooming in the center of his chest. The fact that Taemin had watched his performance was making him feel weirdly pleased. While the auction was still going he got up, and silently made his way out of the room.
That was it. He hadn’t met Taemin, and Jongin kind of felt he never would. The painter had waltzed out of Jongin´s life in such a rapid motion, he hadn’t even been able to graze the edges of Lee Taemin. The weight of Lee Taemin’s mechanical pencil sitting heavy in his jacket’s pocket.
Just as he was walking out of the building, he stumbled upon someone, knocking them down to the floor.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I was distracted, I didn’t see you.” Jongin crouched down and offered his hand.
It was a boy with short jet black hair, pretty messy, Jongin noticed.
“Ugh, no, it was me who was distracted. I’m sorry.” The boy took Jongin´s hands and he couldn’t help but notice that it was stained with white and golden oil. The raven-haired helped himself up. “Thanks. And aga-“ He froze when he saw Jongin’s face, and tried to untagled his hand from the ballerino’s. But Jongin didn’t let go.
“You.” He whispered, noticing how his face and clothes were also coloured in different shades of oil. Jongin couldn’t tear his gaze off of the artist. His lips were plump, just like Jongin’s, but they held a rosy colour his didn’t. He was shorter than the ballerino. His face was quite androgynous, though the sharp line of his jaw and his broad shoulders gave his gender away. He had dark bags under his eyes.
“Pretty. Handsome”
“Why?” The danseur asked, not letting go of Taemin’s hand.
“I’m sorry.” Taemin suddenly blurted out. An awkward silence fell upon them. Jongin’s tongue was heavy with questions, but it seemed like his voice didn’t want to cooperate. He remembered, all of a sudden, the mechanical pencil inside his pocket. He let go of Taemin’s hand and fished for the pencil.
“Here. This is yours.” He said softly, afraid any louder tone would scare the artist away. “I found it when uhmm…” He trailed off, presenting the pencil to Taemin.
The artist blushed at the memory of such embarrassing situation, taking the pencil from Jongin’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“Shit, why is this so awkward, what should I do?”
Unexpectedly, it was Taemin who broke the silence this time.
“Look, I’m sorry I painted you without any sort of permission. It was rude.” He said, sighing. “But I don’t regret it.” He finished looking into Jongin’s eyes.
“Me neither.” He answered, smiling softly. Taemin smiled back, racing Jongin’s heart.
“I’m Kim Jongin, by the way. But I guess you already know.” Jongin extended his hand, and Taemin took it between his smaller ones, shaking it.
“Nice to meet you Kim Jongin. I’m Lee Taemin.” The artist said, warm smile draw on his lips.
“I know. I have been wanting to meet you for so long.”
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for even longer.”
wow that was long
first of all, I want to thank my cute beta fujoshi100, who helped me a lot, thank you honey <33
so, english is not my first language and this is my first fic, so im nervous af
please, tell me what you think, liked it? hated it?
thanks for reading<3