Perfect Cities 27/?
Perfect Cities: 27/?
Title: Painting
Characters: Étienne, Edward
Genre: Romance
Rating for this chapter: T+
Pairings: ÉtiennexEdward
Summary: Edward finds out Étienne paints.
Perfect Cities
Painting
Perfect Cities
Painting
Edward kicked the doormat back into place after he retrieved the keys and let himself in. He had tried knocking several times, but he supposed the loud jazz music coming from the open living room windows had camouflaged his knocks. He didn’t know what he expected to find on the other side of the door, but what he found surprised him.
Étienne was in the middle of his living room, in front of what looked like an easel and a rather large canvas. Both were placed on top of a stained drop cloth and Étienne stood in front of this, wearing a sleeveless shirt that was equally stained.
Edward stopped, his breath momentarily taken away by the sight before him. For starters, he had no idea that Étienne painted. His friend had never mentioned it and he had never even seen a painting in the apartment.
But it wasn’t just his friend’s unknown hobby. It was the way he looked. Étienne, bathed in golden sunlight, his mass of curls tied up in a lose ponytail, the light bringing out the natural highlights of his hair. He watched, mesmerised, as Étienne made broad strokes on the canvas, a look of complete peace and concentration on his face.
From his angle, Edward could see only one side of Étienne and he observed the muscles of his friend’s right arm at work, the Stanley Cup tattoo that covered most of his upper arm seeming lighter in the afternoon sun.
If he needed a word to describe the scene, it would have been beautiful.
Étienne stepped away from his easel to mix more paint and finally noticed his guest. He smiled at Edward and walked over to his radio to lower the volume.
“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in! How are you?” Étienne hugged him tightly and kissed him on both cheeks, as he would have an old friend.
“You paint.” Edward blurted out as a way of greeting.
“Yeah, I do. Come in, make yourself comfortable.”
Étienne took his hand and dragged him to his painting. Edward felt his heart beat a little faster. He looked down at where Étienne’s stained fingers closed around his own and tried to figure out what it was that felt different about his friend.
“I didn’t know. I’ve never seen you paint before.”
Maybe this was a recent hobby, he figured, but judging by the amounts of tools and material that were set up around the easel, he wasn’t so sure.
“Oh, yeah. I used to paint a lot more before. Well - I’ve always dabbled, but I picked it up a few decades ago.” Étienne picked up his paintbrush and resumed his piece.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was part of his community and we used to paint.”
“But what about your pieces? I’ve never seen them.”
Étienne paused and then shrugged. “Oh, we had our own space. I left my stuff there. Then, I either reused the canvases, gave them away, I think I may have sold a few - don’t ask me why, and I might have some in a box in my closet.” He stepped back from his painting, frowned, and then changed paintbrush. “It’s a hobby really. Nothing more. I find it relaxing. I’m not doing this to sell paintings.”
“You - you have some here?” Edward asked, curious to see some.
“Yeah, you can look at them if you want.”
“Yeah?” Edward would have thought for sure they were some secret thing, and instead was pleasantly surprised that Étienne wanted to share.
“Go ahead.”
Étienne pointed to the entrance closet with the end of his paintbrush and Edward moved to the closet. He rummaged through it, knowing Étienne kept odd things in the back of it and he was surprised when he found the box of canvases. He thought the box would have been harder to find and retrospectively, he wondered why he had never stumbled upon it earlier. He pulled it out from the depths, through the coats and other boxes, and then went to the couch to look through it attentively.
Étienne spared him a glance over his painting and smiled encouragingly.
Edward was stunned to see the various different sizes of paintings, ranging from tiny to big. There were also sheets of paper with sketches and a multitude of sketchbooks, piled at the bottom of the box. Edward took out one of the smaller paintings and studied it. It was... he wasn’t sure what was going on in the painting, to be honest, but it was captivating.
There was an eclectic mix of bold colours placed in such a way that nothing was recognisable. No figures or shapes were distinctive. Yet, the lines were vivid and strong shapes danced before his eyes, giving him the energy of the piece.
He put it aside and looked at the next piece. It also seemed to be abstract, with bold blue lines juxtaposed with semi-transparent red ones, which went in many directions.
The same was true for the next several pieces and the sketchbooks held various human like figures that were grotesque in appearance. Yet, despite that, Edward was amazed. Each piece had a strong sense of vibrant energy, from the angry, thick brush strokes, to the juxtaposition of colours and shapes. He didn’t know what they meant, but he could tell that there had been thought placed in the way the colours had been applied to the white canvas.
“These are great.” He finally said; quiet, as if coming out from a trance. He felt a connection to the pieces, as if part of his lover was hidden in them, left there for him to find and understand, but the moment his mind started to wrap around the message, it was gone, teasing him to look in the next one.
Étienne laughed. “You don’t have to sugar coat it. I know it’s not everyone’s style.”
“No, really, I like them. They’re bold.”
“Well, thanks.” Étienne hid back behind his canvas, focusing on his painting.
Edward looked at Étienne and changed seats, getting closer to him. He tried to figure out what it was that was different about him on this particular visit.
Étienne continued to paint, moving about his work, while the jazz music continued playing in the background. Edward felt drawn towards Étienne and the calm energy he seemed to be giving off. He could sit there and watch the other man paint for hours.
He watched as Étienne knit his brow in concentration and stuck out his tongue. All he wanted to do was get up and kiss him, let Étienne explore his body with those stained hands and wild eyes. He looked back to his lover’s face, to his wide green eyes and finally knew what it was that was different about him.
“You’re happy.” He murmured voice thick with awe and want. He rose from his seat and went to stand next to Étienne.
His friend looked away from the smeared canvas and gave him a quizzical look. “I guess? I mean, painting makes me happy.”
“It looks good on you.” He admitted. The openness in his eyes, the carefree attitude with which he moved; it was as if Étienne’s guard was down and Edward could glimpse a part of him that was bared to all. He needed to taste and see this side of his lover that he seldom saw. Needed to feel it to make sure it was real and that he hadn’t dreamt any of it.
Edward stepped behind Étienne and leaned his chin on the other’s shoulder, feeling him move as he continued to work. His friend laughed and leant back into him, letting himself be held.
“I could paint you next, if you want.” Étienne suggested, a smirk playing on his lips, and how Edward wanted nothing more but to turn him around and let him do that and more.
“Are you implying something by that?” He asked, his voice low, breath ghosting on Étienne’s neck. He was no stranger to Étienne’s games and he knew that the best thing to do was to follow along - he could always get something out of it as well.
“Only if you want me to.”
“Good. Then why don’t you finish up over there and then you can redirect your attention to me. ”
He nipped at Étienne’s neck, passing his hands under his shirt, feeling warm skin. Étienne stilled and then relaxed under the familiar touch, shivering slightly at the contact, but he couldn’t say he minded. Edward gave a content sigh, feeling at ease with Étienne there in his arms, the way he sometimes wished it could always be.
“Give me a moment and I’m all yours.”
--
Edward rolled over on the drop cloth and pulled Étienne’s body to him. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Étienne’s neck, his hand caressing down the length of the rose and lily ivy tattoo on his body, before resting on his hip. Étienne turned to face him and he was blown away by the strong look of joy on his face. For a moment, Edward thought he read something else in those green eyes he had come to like - more than he could have ever thought he would - but then Étienne drew him close and kissed him, his eyes fluttering shut. Edward forgot about it and instead focused on Étienne, here in his arms, his body warm and welcoming.
FIN 27
A.N. Refus Global = painting movement Étienne mentioned.
Started writing: February 19th 2017, 11:23pm
Finished writing: February 20th 2017, 5:50pm
Started typing: April 16th 2017, 1:05pm
Finished typing: April 16th 2017, 2:04pm
Title: Painting
Characters: Étienne, Edward
Genre: Romance
Rating for this chapter: T+
Pairings: ÉtiennexEdward
Summary: Edward finds out Étienne paints.
Perfect Cities
Painting
Perfect Cities
Painting
Edward kicked the doormat back into place after he retrieved the keys and let himself in. He had tried knocking several times, but he supposed the loud jazz music coming from the open living room windows had camouflaged his knocks. He didn’t know what he expected to find on the other side of the door, but what he found surprised him.
Étienne was in the middle of his living room, in front of what looked like an easel and a rather large canvas. Both were placed on top of a stained drop cloth and Étienne stood in front of this, wearing a sleeveless shirt that was equally stained.
Edward stopped, his breath momentarily taken away by the sight before him. For starters, he had no idea that Étienne painted. His friend had never mentioned it and he had never even seen a painting in the apartment.
But it wasn’t just his friend’s unknown hobby. It was the way he looked. Étienne, bathed in golden sunlight, his mass of curls tied up in a lose ponytail, the light bringing out the natural highlights of his hair. He watched, mesmerised, as Étienne made broad strokes on the canvas, a look of complete peace and concentration on his face.
From his angle, Edward could see only one side of Étienne and he observed the muscles of his friend’s right arm at work, the Stanley Cup tattoo that covered most of his upper arm seeming lighter in the afternoon sun.
If he needed a word to describe the scene, it would have been beautiful.
Étienne stepped away from his easel to mix more paint and finally noticed his guest. He smiled at Edward and walked over to his radio to lower the volume.
“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in! How are you?” Étienne hugged him tightly and kissed him on both cheeks, as he would have an old friend.
“You paint.” Edward blurted out as a way of greeting.
“Yeah, I do. Come in, make yourself comfortable.”
Étienne took his hand and dragged him to his painting. Edward felt his heart beat a little faster. He looked down at where Étienne’s stained fingers closed around his own and tried to figure out what it was that felt different about his friend.
“I didn’t know. I’ve never seen you paint before.”
Maybe this was a recent hobby, he figured, but judging by the amounts of tools and material that were set up around the easel, he wasn’t so sure.
“Oh, yeah. I used to paint a lot more before. Well - I’ve always dabbled, but I picked it up a few decades ago.” Étienne picked up his paintbrush and resumed his piece.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was part of his community and we used to paint.”
“But what about your pieces? I’ve never seen them.”
Étienne paused and then shrugged. “Oh, we had our own space. I left my stuff there. Then, I either reused the canvases, gave them away, I think I may have sold a few - don’t ask me why, and I might have some in a box in my closet.” He stepped back from his painting, frowned, and then changed paintbrush. “It’s a hobby really. Nothing more. I find it relaxing. I’m not doing this to sell paintings.”
“You - you have some here?” Edward asked, curious to see some.
“Yeah, you can look at them if you want.”
“Yeah?” Edward would have thought for sure they were some secret thing, and instead was pleasantly surprised that Étienne wanted to share.
“Go ahead.”
Étienne pointed to the entrance closet with the end of his paintbrush and Edward moved to the closet. He rummaged through it, knowing Étienne kept odd things in the back of it and he was surprised when he found the box of canvases. He thought the box would have been harder to find and retrospectively, he wondered why he had never stumbled upon it earlier. He pulled it out from the depths, through the coats and other boxes, and then went to the couch to look through it attentively.
Étienne spared him a glance over his painting and smiled encouragingly.
Edward was stunned to see the various different sizes of paintings, ranging from tiny to big. There were also sheets of paper with sketches and a multitude of sketchbooks, piled at the bottom of the box. Edward took out one of the smaller paintings and studied it. It was... he wasn’t sure what was going on in the painting, to be honest, but it was captivating.
There was an eclectic mix of bold colours placed in such a way that nothing was recognisable. No figures or shapes were distinctive. Yet, the lines were vivid and strong shapes danced before his eyes, giving him the energy of the piece.
He put it aside and looked at the next piece. It also seemed to be abstract, with bold blue lines juxtaposed with semi-transparent red ones, which went in many directions.
The same was true for the next several pieces and the sketchbooks held various human like figures that were grotesque in appearance. Yet, despite that, Edward was amazed. Each piece had a strong sense of vibrant energy, from the angry, thick brush strokes, to the juxtaposition of colours and shapes. He didn’t know what they meant, but he could tell that there had been thought placed in the way the colours had been applied to the white canvas.
“These are great.” He finally said; quiet, as if coming out from a trance. He felt a connection to the pieces, as if part of his lover was hidden in them, left there for him to find and understand, but the moment his mind started to wrap around the message, it was gone, teasing him to look in the next one.
Étienne laughed. “You don’t have to sugar coat it. I know it’s not everyone’s style.”
“No, really, I like them. They’re bold.”
“Well, thanks.” Étienne hid back behind his canvas, focusing on his painting.
Edward looked at Étienne and changed seats, getting closer to him. He tried to figure out what it was that was different about him on this particular visit.
Étienne continued to paint, moving about his work, while the jazz music continued playing in the background. Edward felt drawn towards Étienne and the calm energy he seemed to be giving off. He could sit there and watch the other man paint for hours.
He watched as Étienne knit his brow in concentration and stuck out his tongue. All he wanted to do was get up and kiss him, let Étienne explore his body with those stained hands and wild eyes. He looked back to his lover’s face, to his wide green eyes and finally knew what it was that was different about him.
“You’re happy.” He murmured voice thick with awe and want. He rose from his seat and went to stand next to Étienne.
His friend looked away from the smeared canvas and gave him a quizzical look. “I guess? I mean, painting makes me happy.”
“It looks good on you.” He admitted. The openness in his eyes, the carefree attitude with which he moved; it was as if Étienne’s guard was down and Edward could glimpse a part of him that was bared to all. He needed to taste and see this side of his lover that he seldom saw. Needed to feel it to make sure it was real and that he hadn’t dreamt any of it.
Edward stepped behind Étienne and leaned his chin on the other’s shoulder, feeling him move as he continued to work. His friend laughed and leant back into him, letting himself be held.
“I could paint you next, if you want.” Étienne suggested, a smirk playing on his lips, and how Edward wanted nothing more but to turn him around and let him do that and more.
“Are you implying something by that?” He asked, his voice low, breath ghosting on Étienne’s neck. He was no stranger to Étienne’s games and he knew that the best thing to do was to follow along - he could always get something out of it as well.
“Only if you want me to.”
“Good. Then why don’t you finish up over there and then you can redirect your attention to me. ”
He nipped at Étienne’s neck, passing his hands under his shirt, feeling warm skin. Étienne stilled and then relaxed under the familiar touch, shivering slightly at the contact, but he couldn’t say he minded. Edward gave a content sigh, feeling at ease with Étienne there in his arms, the way he sometimes wished it could always be.
“Give me a moment and I’m all yours.”
--
Edward rolled over on the drop cloth and pulled Étienne’s body to him. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Étienne’s neck, his hand caressing down the length of the rose and lily ivy tattoo on his body, before resting on his hip. Étienne turned to face him and he was blown away by the strong look of joy on his face. For a moment, Edward thought he read something else in those green eyes he had come to like - more than he could have ever thought he would - but then Étienne drew him close and kissed him, his eyes fluttering shut. Edward forgot about it and instead focused on Étienne, here in his arms, his body warm and welcoming.
FIN 27
A.N. Refus Global = painting movement Étienne mentioned.
Started writing: February 19th 2017, 11:23pm
Finished writing: February 20th 2017, 5:50pm
Started typing: April 16th 2017, 1:05pm
Finished typing: April 16th 2017, 2:04pm