Muse (2/2)
Title: Muse
Pairing: TaeKai
WC: 5815. Two-Shot.
Summary: In which Jongin is somebody else's muse.
2/2
“Him again?”
Taemin blushed and tried to hide his sketchbook by throwing his arms on top of it.
“Hyung,” he whined, “Stop looking at my drawings. It’s embarrassing.” He finished while closing his sketchbook and tucking it inside his bag safely.
Key just smirked at him.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you are so good at drawing. Apart from that, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” The blond painter pat Taemin’s head softly. "Except for the fact that you keep drawing that danseur like a highschool girl drawing her crush’s name all over her school books.” He added smirking, successfully evading the blow Taemin sent him.
“Shut up, you ass.” The younger of the two stood up and exited the classroom.
“Ahh, don’t be mad, young one. I was just teasing you.” Key grabbed Taemin’s arm and forced him into a crushing hug. “Aigo, our baby is growing up so fast.” The blonde cooed at him.
“Fuck you.” Taemin pushed a laughing Key and glared at him. “God, I hate you so much.” He groaned.
“Now now, that’s not very polite of you. Brat.” Taemin ignored him and resumed his way to his dorm.
“Anyhow, have you thought about what you’re going to paint for the exhibition?” Key asked him, trying to evade the crowd of students who were all running towards the cafeteria. Lunch time was always excessively chaotic, that was why Taemin and he prefer to eat in their own dorm.
“Actually, I haven’t.” The brunet sighed, fishing for his room’s keys inside his pocket. “I wish I hadn’t been picked, it’s too much of a burden to paint five paintings in so little time. What were they thinking?” He entered the tiny building and went straight to his room.
He left his bag on the floor and then laid on the messy bed.
Key shook his head and closed the door, following after Taemin to take his bag from the floor, placing it on top of the desk.
“Don’t leave your crap on the floor. This is also my room, mind you. I'd rather not trip on anything. Move over.” He pat Taemin’s butt, motioning to him to leave some room. The black haired boy groaned and moved a little.
“I’ll ask your mom to gift me a mattress like yours. This shit is so comfortable.” Key said, having already climbed into bed with Taemin. The younger just nodded, sleepy, and scooted closer to the heat Key’s body provided. The blonde just smiled a little and started playing with Taemin’s hair.
“You can always say no, you know. But, seeing as you’re only a second year, it’s a great honor. You shouldn’t refuse. And you’ll be helping the Art department to raise some money. We could use the money to buy new bulb lights since you’re always complaining about how shitty they are and how they mess up your drawings.” Taemin just nodded and made some unintelligible noises.
“What?”
Taemin raised his face from the pillow.
“I said fine, I'll do it, now shut up and let me sleep.”
Key smiled.
“Good boy.”
///
Even though Taemin felt a little creepy, he couldn’t stop his feet from taking him to the dance practice room. “I’m so lame."
It was pretty early in the morning and he was wearing a thick hoodie, the cloth stopping the cold from biting his skin.
The painter made sure nobody else was in the hallway and followed the faint sound of the music that could be heard coming out from the last room. Taemin clutched his sketchbook tighter to his chest, feeling nervous. He always felt nervous whenever he tried to steal a little sneak-peek of the tan danseur. His heart started to race and his breath sped up as well.
It was always nerve-wracking to watch Jongin dance.
He was grateful the ballerino always forgot to close the door properly, so Taemin didn’t have to worry about making much noise while trying to open the door. He just needed to worry about not being seen. Though, again, it wasn’t a problem. Jongin was always too preoccupied with his dancing to notice the creepy painter staring at him from the door.
For that, Taemin was also grateful.
He sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and opened his sketchbook, balancing it on top of his knees. He took his mechanical pencil out of his pocket and started drawing what his eyes saw.
Jongin was so beautiful like this, dancing without a care, just losing himself in the rapidly increasing notes of the piano tiles. The leotard clung to his body, the sweat making it seem as if it were his second skin.
Mesmerizing.
Taemin knew that what he was doing was illegal, or something close to it. But he couldn’t stop. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the danseur since he first laid his sight on him.
He remembered it, way too clear.
Jonghyun had dragged him to some ballet concert because he was a special guest. The dance department had used his compositions to create a ballet routine, and of course he had to show off to his favourite dongsaeng. “Come see my compositions come to life, Taeminnie. I know you want to, come with meeeeeeee.” Taemin had agreed upon telling his hyung to stop calling him Taeminnie. It was embarrassing.
Disregarding his hyung’s cheesy nicknames, Jonghyun had always been his role-model. He was so dedicated and passionate about what he did, he couldn’t not admire his work, so it wasn’t like it took too much to convince Taemin. He would gladly go wherever Jonghyun asked him to go. Even more if it meant to appreciate his hyung’s art.
So there they were, sitting in the front row, watching the first years twirling all over the set, dancing to the compass of Jonghyun’s composition. It was then when he saw him.
He stood out like a bright jewel in the middle of dull stones. The beauty of his movements had Taemin hypnotized. The way his body became one with the music, the way his face seemed to express the feelings conveyed in the composition, the way he danced like he was the only one on the stage. “Who are you?”
His hands had started to twitch, longing to capture the beautiful dance the danseur was performing. Or the danseur himself.
Once the concert ended, he couldn’t even clap. Just what had been that? Who, had been that one?
Jonghyun had been called to the stage to say some words, and his voice had been what made him snap out of his little personal bubble. He clapped loudly. Jonghyun’s compositions had been outstanding, to be honest. He always found a way to make Taemin speechless, the damn talented composer.
After assuring Jonghyun that “yes, hyung. They were amazing, you’re the best composer out of this entire university. I’m not lying, you know it’s truth!” (words that had earned him a completely new palette of oils, the expensive ones) he made sure to ask him who the talented dancer was. The tan one, the one who seemed to own the stage.
“Who are you?”
///
Kim Jongin, first year. Currently pursuing a career as a ballet dancer.
Taemin smiled to himself, feeling his cheeks heat up at the knowledge of his danseur’s name.
Kim Jongin.
///
Taemin found that his lines had started to shift into something that looked suspiciously like a person dancing. No matter how hard he tried to redraw the lines, they would stubbornly go back to his previous position. “Fucking lines, I’m the damn artist here, fucking obey me." But his hand was entranced by the memory of the ballerino, and was trying to sketch out his figure before the memories fainted.
“Alright, do whatever the fuck you want.”
And that had been how Taemin started to draw Jongin everywhere.
///
It was by mere coincidence that Taemin had found Jongin practicing in the dance practice room. Maybe it wasn’t so coincidental, seeing as Taemin had started wandering all over the Dance department in hopes of catching a glimpse of Jongin.
The light coming from the last dance room was what caught his attention. Taemin knew it was late, so it was probable that the ballerino had already gone. But still.
He went closer to the source of light, only to find out somebody was inside, judging by the soft sound of the music and the light steps that could be heard.
His heart froze when he recognized the person in the black leotard.
“Oh my fucking God.”
///
It became a routine, for Taemin at least. He had learned by heart Jongin’s schedule, and along his (not so) discreet visits, the artist had started to bring his sketchbook with him. He would pour all he could see in his white sheets. They weren’t very good, if Taemin were to be honest with himself. Half the time he would get distracted by Jongin’s dancing and forget to draw, and whenever he would try to pick up at where he left off, the drawing would come out looking quite weird.
But with time, Taemin grew to learn Jongin’s movements, Jongin’s figure whenever he performed a twirl or a jump. In the night, tangled in his sheets, Taemin would recreate Jongin’s ever changing routines, trying to mind-sketch his different positions. He would draw something worthy of Jongin’s dancing. He vowed to it.
And the drawings got better, way better.
///
“So, have you decide what to draw for the exhibition?” Key asked, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Luhan already told me what he would be drawing, as well as Hyo.”
“Hyung,” Taemin said in a soft voice. Key stopped twirling his pen and sat straight. Taemin rarely called him ‘hyung’. He raised an eyebrow at him, motioning for him to continue talking.
“Would it be weird if I actually paint Jongin for the exhibition?” The brunet asked bluntly.
Key just looked at him, surprised and speechless. Taemin misjudged his silence and buried his now red crimson face between his hands.
“It’s totally weird, right? Forget I asked, please. Don’t judge me.”
“Taemin.” Key said in a serious tone. Taemin peeked at him between his fingers.
“Why do you want to paint him? I can tell it’s not only because you are infatuated with him. “
“I- uhmm. He’s been struggling lately. I can tell.” Taemin said, removing his hands from his face. “And, I wanted to encourage him? I think the routine he’s been practicing is not going so well. And I- I thought, well. Uhm. You know.”
“Taemin you seriously suck at expressing yourself, you know?” Key said warmly. “But I guess I get it. I think it’s sweet. Paint whatever you want, baby.” Taemin cringed at the pet name and Key laughed out loud.
Well, at least Key wasn’t calling him a pervert or a creep.
“Good.”
///
“Taemin, you look like shit.”
“I’m sorry not all of us can look damn fine in the morning.” Taemin glared at Key. Though he knew he actually looked not very…presentable. His hair was a crow's nest and his hands were stained in oil.
“At least take a shower, Jesus.” Key tried to untangle the younger’s hair but Taemin jerked his head away when he tried to brush a knot.
“Ouch. Just. Don’t. Leave it.” He huffed. “It’s not like I’m going to stay here anyways.”
“Come on Taem, all of us are going to stay.” Luhan, who had just walked inside the building, said.
Taemin blushed a little. He wasn’t very good with people who weren’t Key or Jonghyun.
“H-hyung, hi.” He said awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I have other things to do. I’ll just leave my painting and l-leave.” The fact that Luhan actually knew Jongin, and was friends with him, got Taemin more nervous. “Stop with the stutter, you dumbass.”
“That’s a shame.” Luhan actually looked a little sad. “But no can do. Hey, let me see your paintings! I don’t think I’ll have the time to fully appreciate it once people start coming in. Also, it seems you painted not one, but three paintings. I’m curious now!”
Taemin blushed even harder.
“Shit, no.”
“Yeah, come on Taemin. Show us your masterpieces. I want to see what the second year genius can do.” Key pressured, smirking.
“Fuck you, Key.”
“It’s no big deal, really, hyung. They’re not so good.” He said, holding tight his covered canvases. “Yours, on the other hand, is beautiful! Hyung, you’re so talented!” He praised sincerely, admiring Luhan’s work, which already hung from the white wall.
“Aww, you’re so polite Taeminnie. Thank you!” The elder beamed at him. Taemin sighed, happy to have shifted the attention from him.
He nodded and offered Luhan a tiny smile before walking to his white wall. Thank god Luhan was too busy talking to Hyoyeon to pay any attention to him. He softly placed his canvases on the floor and started to uncover them. One by one, Taemin hung his paintings. He was quite proud of them. After having watched Jongin’s dancing time after time, he felt content for he felt he had been able to convey the danseur's fantastic twirl. The fouetté in Tournant was a pretty amazing move that Taemin knew Jongin executed perfectly.
“He looks a lot like someone I know.” Taemin froze. “Do you happen to know Kai?” Luhan continued, unaware of Taemin’s sudden stiffness. “Your ballerino looks a lot like him, you know. It’s a pretty amazing picture, well, I mean, the three of them are.”
“Shit.”
“L-L-L-uhan hyung. I’m…I do…” Taemin cursed himself. “Stop it.” Sometimes he hated how bad he was when it came down to social skills.
“You do? How do you know Kai?”
“His name’s Jongin.”
“N-no, I-I mean…” Taemin had started to tremble. “Holy fuck Taemin, calm down.” But he couldn’t. ”He actually knows Jongin, oh my God. He is going to tell him isn’t he? I’m screwed, I knew this was a stupid idea, oh G-"
“Are you okay?” Luhan had grabbed Taemin’s trembling hands between his.
“Not really, no.”
“I-I know Jong-Kai. Actually…” He looked away from Luhan and fixed his gaze upon the oil ballerino, dancing in his paintings. Luhan followed Taemin’s gaze.
“It’s him, right?” He asked softly.
“Please don’t think I’m creepy! I just really like him- I mean, his dancing.” Taemin went silent, not really knowing what else to say to save the awkward situation.
“It’s not only his dancing. It’s him. Jongin.”
Luhan suddenly smiled brightly, squeezing Taemin’s hands.
“It’s okay Taemin-ah, really.”
“Please don’t tell him.” He begged, voice fragile.
“I promise you I won’t.”
///
“He asked for you.”
How Luhan had gotten his phone number was still a mystery.
“Kai.” The voice coming from the other line said.
“You mean Jongin.”
“Really?” Taemin said with a little smile on his face. The fact that Jongin had seen his painting made him feel all giddy inside.
“Yeah! But don’t worry, I said to him the artist was a little shy and preferred not to tell their name. He really liked your paintings! He looked really excited about something and left shortly after.” The elder continued.
“Jongin liked my paintings.”
“Jongin asked for me.”
“Thanks, hyung. Uhm. Really, thank you.” Taemin answered, a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to interacting with other people, though his words were sincere.
Luhan giggled from the other side, as if sensing Taemin’s awkwardness.
“Don’t worry boy, I’ll see you tomorrow. Take rest!” He didn’t wait for the younger to respond and ended the call.
Taemin sighed and put his phone in his pocket while walking towards the dance department. It was already dark though it wasn’t late, the winter swallowing up all the daylight it could.
He maneuvered through the corridors, careful on his steps, and followed the faint sound of the music coming out from the last room.
Taemin felt his chest lighten when he saw Jongin dancing more freely from the door. It felt different from the previous routines he had been trying, those had felt stiff and forced. But now, Jongin was dancing his heart out. The constant furrow of his eyebrows had disappeared, and his movements seemed more powerful and decisive. This was the Jongin that Taemin knew, the Jongin he enjoyed plastering on his canvases.
And if his paintings had helped him overcome whatever was troubling Jongin’s dancing, Taemin would paint a thousand canvases more for him.
///
The grand jeté had taken longer than he’d expected. He really should start becoming more responsible, though it wasn’t his fault his artistic attacks happened during nighttime.
Key had laughed at his appearance the moment he entered the building and for once Taemin couldn’t tell him off. He knew he didn’t look great, but again, he didn’t care much.
“Taemin, you are always the same.” The blond said, coming closer to his friend to rub some of the oil off of his face with his thumb. “I can’t believe you still get stained whenever you paint.” He sighed after his failed attempt at taming Taemin’s hair.
The younger only smiled, tired. He had stayed up all night trying to fix Jongin’s hands because he had fucked up while painting them. He nearly ripped all of his hair out when he realized his tired, shaking hand hadn’t obeyed him while trying not to blend the colours. But he had managed to fix it on time, softly blowing some hot air from Key’s stolen hair dryer. A week of hard work almost gone to waste, just because he had decided to finish his work at the last moment.
“Come, let’s hang Jongin on the wall, then you can go get some rest.” Taemin nodded, sleepy. It was only 6:00 in the morning and the exhibition wouldn’t open until one hour later, so he just wanted to leave and take a bath and finally drop dead on his bed.
“Not staying today either?” Luhan asked once Taemin finished hanging his painting on the white wall.
“Sorry,” He said, smiling a little. “I’m really tired, hyung, so I’ll be leaving now.” He bowed shortly and exited the building.
The chill from the winter morning helped the artist ginger up, who walked as fast as his cold legs allowed him to his room. Once tangled in the warmth of his soft blankets, he dreamed about worn ballet slippers and classical music.
///
If Taemin were to be honest with himself, the cabriole he had painted Jongin performing was glorious. The fluidity with which the ballerino performed the jump with, had been terribly difficult, but in the end he was quite proud of his work. It was perfect, because it had Jongin in it.
A low whistle escaped Hyoyeon's lips.
"My, my, Taemin-ah, look at our little prodigy all mighty and so in love." She teased.
"Noona." He complained with red tinted cheeks.
He felt tempted to cover his painting again. One of the reasons he didn’t want to participate actively in the exhibition or stay in it like the others, was actually because of this. He felt too exposed, showing off to the world his deepest feelings. Despite not having tried to, his feelings often pour out of him and leaked into the canvas without his permission. He could notice it. Hyoyeon could notice. Everyone could notice. Jongin could notice. He wasn’t ready to be that exposed to the world. He would prefer to keep his feelings locked inside of him, thank you very much.
"I’m just messing with you sweetie, I’m speaking out of jealousy." She nudged him with her shoulder. "You should paint me some time, I bet I would look even more beautiful painted with your magical hands."
"Noona, you’re already p-pretty." He stuttered, a little flustered.
Hyoyeon’s face lit up considerably.
"Taemin-ah! Such a gentleman, I’m sure this Kai guy would be jealous if you keep sweet talking me like that." She laughed out loud and pat the younger on the arm affectionately.
He gave her a little smile, his eyes crinkling slightly.
“I don’t think he would be jealous, noona.”
///
“He called me! Yesterday! I didn’t see you today, you left so early I didn’t have the chance to tell you. He practically begged me to tell him your name.” Luhan laughed loudly from the other side of the line. “I felt a little bad, and he almost had me. Almost Taemin, don’t worry. You should have listened to him, I swear.” He kept going.
Taemin smiled so bright, the sun would have been put to shame.
///
Taemin hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night. He had stayed up until very late in the night, or very early in the morning, struggling with himself. Should he take his painting to the exhibition? Would he dare to take it to the exhibition? He had been so tempted to present any other painting but that one. The one who actually gave away who his not so secret muse was.
“Oh God, what if he actually hates me? I mean, not me, because he doesn’t know it’s me, but he would hate the one who painted the picture. Who happens to be me, so I guess it’s the same? Fuck this, I’m not taking this one. Fuck everything.”
He had stared longingly at his masterpiece with loving eyes. He had put so much effort on it. It was a shame, truly, Jongin had come out looking so handsome.
“I’m so embarrassed. I’m so embarrassing, oh my God, why did I have to actually paint his face? I’m so creepy. I hate myself.”
///
“Oh my God, you actually did it. You’re so creepy.” Were the first words that came out of Key’s lips.
Taemin covered his face in embarrassment.
“I know, don’t make me regret my choice. No. You know what? Forget this, I’m taking this off of the wall.” He had attempted to reach his painting, but Key had stopped him.
“Taemin, no. It’s beautiful.” He said, guiding Taemin arms to his previous position. “Leave it. He is going to love it, and if he doesn’t, he is a fucker.” The events from the previous night in which Kai had come when Hyoyeon and he were closing just to ask them if they knew who the ballerino’s painter was were prickling on his tongue. He wanted to tell Taemin, “He came here, for you. He knows you’re a male. He doesn’t care. He freaked out when we told him we were closing and he had yet to see your painting.” But he didn’t. Some things were better left unsaid. Or, in his opinion, obvious things which were too obvious to be said should remain in silence. Eventually, the silence would be interrupted.
The black haired artist sighed, feeling a little better.
“I don’t want to disturb him, tomorrow is his performance. And I certainly don’t want to make him lose his focus or anything.” He added, scratching his arms suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Don’t worry baby, if anything, I have a feeling he will power-up more once he sees he is some amazingly talented artist’s muse.” Key smiled brightly at him, encouragingly.
Taemin felt himself ease a little. That’s right, Key was right.
“Please don’t be grossed out.”
///
“God is testing me.” Is what Taemin thought when he went, just like any other night to Jongin’s common dance practice room, only to find the usually semi-opened door, closed. “Scratch that, God is punishing me for my sins. I’m sorry I stalk Jongin and paint him without his permission.” As a quick mental note he added, “Only I’m not.”
He cursed under his breath and tried to maneuver his pencils and his sketchbook in one of his hands whilst he tried opening the door as slowly and carefully as he could with the other.
He breathed slowly, relieved, when the door was successfully opened. He took a step back to get a better view from the inside of the room. Suddenly, he stumbled with his own feet and although he tried to balanced himself, it wasn’t very effective, seeing as he ended up sprawled on the floor.
“Fuck.”
On his hands and knees, Taemin tried to gather his belongings as quickly as possible, but his entire self froze when he heard the squeak of the door, opening. He looked up, only to find Jongin’s confused eyes looking directly at his.
“Shit.”
He stood up fast as lightning and sprinted off down the hallways, sketchbook and pencils tightly held between his hands.
“Wait!” He heard Jongin’s shout from behind him, and that only encourage him to run faster.
“Wait! Stop!” Jongin’s heavy steps resonated in Taemin’s head. “He is going to catch me, he is going to catch me.”
All of a sudden, the painter did a turn and entered the Arts building, running towards the little room below the stairs. “Please be open.” He thought desperately when he grabbed the rusted handle. When the door opened he made sure not to shut the door loudly, or else Jongin would be able to find him. He tried to steady his shallow breathing. “Thank you Kwang, for being inattentive and forgetting to lock the concierge’s room.”
He could hear Jongin’s steps, roaming through the building. “Please give up, please give up.”
Taemin remained there, in the cramped space, trembling, even long after Jongin left feeling beaten.
///
Kwang almost had a heart attack when he opened the little room below the stairs and found a sleeping teenager, cuddling with his broom.
“Hey, boy, what are you doing here?” Kwang asked, shaking the teenager shoulder lightly.
Taemin woke up slowly, blinking rapidly.
“This isn’t my room.”
He took notice of the old man standing in front of him, looking at him as if waiting for an explanation.
“Oh.”
Suddenly he remembered last night events and stood up, alarmed.
“What time is it?“ The teenager asked, getting desperate.
“The exhibition.”
The old man sighed and took a look at his wrist watch.
“Seven forty.” He responded, calmly. It wasn’t the first time a drugged student appeared inside his cleaning closet. He seriously should start locking the little room.
Taemin looked at the concierge, horrified.
“Holy shit.”
He gathered all his things and sprinted off the room, yelling behind his back a hurried “Thank you, sir!”
He ran all the way to the flat he shared with Key, and once he had unlocked the door, he went directly to his bedroom. A buzzing sound could be heard coming from under his bed. He threw his sketchbook and pencil on to the bed and got on all fours to reach for his phone.
Key was calling.
“Hello…?” Taemin said, preparing mentally for the scolding of his life.
“HELLO MY ASS LEE TAEMIN, WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU, I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL ALL DAMN MORNING, AND WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU LAST NIGHT? I WAS HELLA WORRIED BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T COME BACK.” Key’s roaring stunned him momentarily.
“I know, I know! Look, I’m sorry I had a …uhm, a problem, last night. But I’m fine and alive! Sorry I forgot my phone…again.” He quickly added. He heard the elder taking a deep breath. That was good, Key was trying to calm down.
“We’ll talk about you being an inattentive piece of shit later, what matters now is that people are going to start entering in no time and I don’t see your painting hanging from the wall.”
“I know! Key, what do I do? I don’t want to go now, when people are already gathered outside. They’ll see me coming with my canvas and they will know it’s me. What if Jongin is queuing? “ Taemin asked, hopelessness dripping from his voice.
“Ok…calm down. Let me think… “ Key said trying to come up with a plan. “We don’t actually have to hand in our works today. You can present it tomorrow, during the auction. Just be sure to be on time, okay? “
“Key, I love you so much.” Taemin sighed heavily, relieved.
“You’re nothing without me, Lee Taemin.” Key chuckled lightly from the other side of the phone. "Go take a shower and sleep a little. Tonight is Jongin’s performance, right? I know you don’t want to fall asleep at it.”
“I’ll do that.” Taemin smiled at Key’s forever mothering tone. “Kibum, thank you.” He said sincerely, blushing a little.
“D-don’t worry baby, go take a rest.” Taemin’s sudden show of affection threw him off a little. Key wasn’t really use to them, seeing how hard it was for the younger to express himself with words.
Taemin nodded.
“I know you’re nodding, idiot. I can’t see you through the phone, you know. What to do with you?”
“S-sorry.” Taemin laughed. “Bye, Key.”
“Bye, Taemin-ah.”
///
“Stay still, what are you, five?”
Taemin huffed.
“I am still.” He said, annoyed.
“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Key was not impressed with the younger’s shaking hands and, God, the seat wasn’t uncomfortable at all, why did he keep moving like that?
Taemin had been trying to accommodate himself in his seat the very first moment he sat. He almost knocked down Key’s popcorn when he tried to untangle his legs.
“That’s it! Stop moving, Taemin!” Key and Taemin started arguing until the row from behind shushed them. Taemin went red and finally stop moving, Key turned his head and glared at the people behind him.
Suddenly the lights went out, and a soft piano sound could be heard coming from the speakers. Everybody went silent. The stage slowly started to illuminate, and a row of ballerinas appeared from behind the curtains.
The show had begun.
///
Taemin had started to move again, eager for Jongin’s performance.
“Oh my god, he is next, Key.” He announced in a hushed tone when the ballerina ended her performance and everybody started clapping.
“I know, I know. Stay still, baby.” Key took Taemin’s sweaty hand between his and squeezed lightly in a comforting gesture.
The black haired boy just nodded, silently thankful for Key’s presence.
Suddenly, the ballerina left and the stage was dark all over again. The artist's breath shallowed.
The music started to flood the audience.
As well as Taemin’s eyes.
///
“Look at me. Can you see me? Paint me.”
“I’m always looking at you. I can see you, perfectly. I will.”
“Come paint me.”
“I will.”
“Paint me.”
“I will.”
“Immortalize me.”
“I will.”
“Make me immune to the passing time.”
“You already are.”
“Paint me.”
“I was born to.”
///
He didn’t even know what he was doing, his hand just kept tracing the perfect sketch his mind had created.
“Come paint me.”
“I’m trying.”
Jongin had been so sublime.
“Come paint me.”
“I’m trying.”
The way his body had moved had been sinful. The way he had looked at the audience, as if Jongin was the fucking king of everything.
“Immortalize me.”
“You’re already immortal.”
Taemin’s sight had started to blur due to his tiredness, and his hand had started to shake, too. It was 5am, but he needed to finish Jongin.
Jongin needed him.
“Immortalize me.”
“I won’t let you die.”
“Come paint me.”
“I’ll paint you even more beautiful than Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.”
“Immortalize me.”
“Time won’t touch you.”
///
After having told Key that the painting still needed some time to dry and that he wasn’t going to be present at the auction, Taemin finally laid down on his bed. His head was pounding and he felt his hands sore. He knew Key would kill him once he found out that he had slept without showering and with his oil-tainted clothes. But he would deal with the elder later, right now, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and enter Neverland.
He dreamt of nothing.
///
Taemin woke up no much later, the bright sun rays were filtering through the white curtains. He checked the time.
“Uh, the auction must have already finished.” He stood up and stretch his limbs. He went to the bathroom and tried to wash up a little, but the oil wasn’t going to come off so easily. He tried to tame his hair a little, again, without success.
“Whatever.”
He went out of the flat and headed to the auditorium, he at least had to check how much they had raised with the paintings. He hoped it was a lot, they really were short of art supplies, and damn they were expensive.
He was still a little sleepy when he tried to enter the auditorium, so he guessed it was his fault he didn’t see the person coming at him, only to realise they were going to collide once he was already sprawled on the floor.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I was distracted, I didn’t see you.” The person said, extending their hand.
“Ugh, no, it was me who was distracted. I’m sorry.” Taemin apologized, taking the hand he was offered to help himself up. “Thanks. And aga-“ Taemin looked up, horrified.
“Holy shit it’s Jongin. Holy shit, you’re holding his hand.” He tried to take his hand out of Jongin’s grasp but the ballerino didn’t let go.
“Don’t do this, please.”
“You,” Jongin said.
“Holy shit, he knows.”
“Why?” The danseur asked.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, not really knowing what else to say.
Suddenly Jongn let go of Taemin’s hand and fished for something in his pocket. He took out a mechanical pencil. One that oddly looked like Taemin’s.
“Here. This is yours.” He said softly. “I found it when uhmm…” He trailed off, presenting the pencil to Taemin.
“Oh well, just when I thought this couldn’t get any more awkward. He knows I stalk him. Nice.”
Taemin felt his cheeks heat up.
“T-thank you.”
Taemin thought Jongin looked quite uncomfortable so he decided to break the silence.
“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. He didn’t regret it at all. Jongin was beautiful, and Lee Taemin had always liked painting beautiful things.
“Me neither.” The ballerino answered with a soft smile, surprising Taemin.
“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, a warm smile drawn on his lips. He couldn’t believe he was actually talking to Jongin. Kim Jongin.
“I know. I have been wanting to meet you for so long.” Taemin’s heart was pounding so loud he was afraid the ballerino might be able to hear it. “You have no idea, Jongin.”
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for even longer.”
I'm so sorry I took so long to update this!! I was going to do it on Friday but I didin't have enough time, and I was way too busy during the weekend SORRY.
Also, I'm sorry it isn't as nice as the first part, I tried my best ;_; I'm sure this isn't what you were all waiting, I guess you were expecting a sequel or something, lol.
I know Taem curses a lot, but I imagine him to be like that, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!
A billion thanks to my lovely beta, fujoshi100 <333
Please don't be shy and comment, pretty please? Even a "Nice" would do it for me!
Thank youu <33