Awkward
Xero/Jenissi | 1218 w | Jiho has a crush.
Taeyang’s gaze is steady and intense as he sets to work. He catches Jiho’s eye, nodding slightly and says, “Only look at me.”
Jiho blushes a little, wiping at dampness forming along his hairline. As if he could look anywhere else but Taeyang right now. The room is hot, almost stifling, and bathed in the sunlight peeking through the half drawn blinds. Taeyang had been closing them when Jiho had entered the room, letting his backpack slide to the floor unceremoniously and making Taeyang jump, forgetting all about the blinds in his haste to greet Jiho.
Taeyang has already removed his jacket and the thin cotton of his yellow shirt clings to his shoulders. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
"You're so hot," Jiho mutters. Taeyang looks up, stopping his hands.
"What?"
Jiho flushes. Taeyang wasn't supposed to hear that. Jiho wasn't even supposed to say that out loud. "Um, nothing. You just look hot. I mean, like that, you look like you feel hot?”
“You look hot too.” Taeyang smiles.
Jiho laughs weakly and rubs the back of his neck. “I can’t believe the AC is still broken.”
“Mhm. But that’s not important right now. Focus on what we’re doing.”
“Okay.” Taeyang sends a reassuring smile towards Jiho.
“Do you remember what we did last time?” The younger boy nods. “So, how many fingers should I use?”
Taeyang holds up his hands and wriggles his fingers, as if Jiho is a kid who needs to see them to count. “One or two?”
“Yeah, you don’t want to shove your whole hand in right away, am I right?” Taeyang snorts at his little joke, if you could call it that. He carefully wets his fingers, making sure they’re slick before looking down at what he’s doing.
His fingers are cute. His hands are cute. Small, with a wide palm and chubby fingers, but cute. Like, Jiho would rather hold it than watch Taeyang push two of his fingers down.
Today is really basic; Taeyang isn’t doing any fancy tricks but getting straight to the point. He uses up to three fingers (“It doesn’t need to be stretched wider, this is big enough”) and runs his palms up and down the shaft, slicking it down. It only took him five minutes or so, but it feels longer. Jiho has no clue what happened in that space of time though: not what Taeyang did nor what he said. But he does know that Taeyang blinked eighty-three times and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip five times.
“I’ve showed you what to do so now I want you to try.” Taeyang leans close to him (he smells like peaches and acrylic paint and it is Very Distracting) and plops a slab of clay on the wheel in front of Jiho. “You have to be able to make a basic jar or Mr. Cho won’t let you pass art this semester. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”
Jiho’s learned nothing apparently. He spins the wheel too fast and uses too much water. But he made the opening okay and it’s a reasonable height. Taeyang pats him on the back consolingly and tells him he can come by after school tomorrow to practice again.
He lingers at the sink a bit, taking an unnecessarily long time to scrape the clay off his hands and out from under his nails, so as to watch Taeyang as he bends over to pick up the pottery wheel. (He’s wearing tight jeans today). Jiho feels a bit creepy but then again, he’s getting tutored for art. This is a fair enough trade.
He wipes his hands with a paper towel and gives Taeyang a little wave, getting a pretty smile and nod in return. Byungjoo is sitting on the floor, hunched up against the wall with his snapback pulled over his face. He’s probably asleep, so Jiho kicks his shin. “Wake up I’m done.”
Byungjoo hisses and rubs his leg, sending Jiho a non-threatening glare. “Rude.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, making sure to hit Jiho’s side with it as he swings it up. “How was remedial art tutoring?”
“I made a pot?” And stared at Taeyang’s ass, but he doesn’t say that. Byungjoo doesn’t need to know that.
“Your tutor’s totally hot then, right?”
Jiho splutters. “What?”
“You do realize that your face, like, makes these… faces, right?” He squints. “Like, you were just looking hella creepy right now; your ‘I just saw a great piece of ass’ look.”
Jiho kicks him again.
He comes by the next day after school and is greatly disappointed to see Mr. Cho in the corner. Now he absolutely has to focus on art. Then again, Taeyang is a work of art, a masterpiece, so close enough. Anyway, his eccentric art teacher seems to be too preoccupied painting a unicorn to really pay attention to him and Taeyang.
The school’s air conditioning is still broken, so today Taeyang opens up the windows. There’s a breeze rustling a few papers and ruffling Taeyang’s hair. He’s saying something? Jiho doesn’t know. But he does know that Taeyang looks really nice like this, with the sunlight streaming through the window behind him, like he’s glowing.
Taeyang furrows his eyebrows and waves a hand in front of Jiho’s face “Stop staring at me Jiho, start the wheel.” Oh, Jiho must have been staring again. He coughs quietly hide his embarrassment and sets to work.
It starts out okay. Jiho makes the general shape well enough. He has a little trouble with the lip of the pot, making it too big the first time. Taeyang crushes it back down but keeps his hands over Jiho’s to guide his fingers. “You don’t want the sides to be too thin, it can break easily.” Jiho nods dumbly and tries to ignore the feeling of Taeyang’s breath on his nape.
The third try results in the best pot, or at least, better than the last two. Taeyang pats him on the back and calls Mr. Cho over to inspect Jiho’s work. He studies it carefully, tapping a paintbrush on his chin repeatedly, seemingly unaware he was getting pink paint on his skin. “Hmm, pass. Good job Jiho.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Taeyang,” Jiho replies back. Not that Mr. Cho hears, because he briskly walks back to his corner, but Taeyang does.
Jiho helps him carry the pottery wheels back to the storage room today and they wash their hands in the sink together in silence. Taeyang’s shoulder occasionally brushes against Jiho’s arm.
Jiho pushes open the door to leave but stops when a hand pulls on his elbow. It’s Taeyang. “Hey Jiho,” he starts, squirming his feet together. “If you ever need help in art, or any subject really, you can ask me. I wouldn’t mind helping you out.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Mhm. But don’t ask if you’re just gonna stare at me the whole time,” he jokes, opening the door for a very red Jiho. It’s not until Jiho’s a few steps away from the room when Taeyang calls out again. “But if you want to, you can stare at me over a slice of pizza?”
Jiho flushes even more, but he smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Taeyang’s gaze is steady and intense as he sets to work. He catches Jiho’s eye, nodding slightly and says, “Only look at me.”
Jiho blushes a little, wiping at dampness forming along his hairline. As if he could look anywhere else but Taeyang right now. The room is hot, almost stifling, and bathed in the sunlight peeking through the half drawn blinds. Taeyang had been closing them when Jiho had entered the room, letting his backpack slide to the floor unceremoniously and making Taeyang jump, forgetting all about the blinds in his haste to greet Jiho.
Taeyang has already removed his jacket and the thin cotton of his yellow shirt clings to his shoulders. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
"You're so hot," Jiho mutters. Taeyang looks up, stopping his hands.
"What?"
Jiho flushes. Taeyang wasn't supposed to hear that. Jiho wasn't even supposed to say that out loud. "Um, nothing. You just look hot. I mean, like that, you look like you feel hot?”
“You look hot too.” Taeyang smiles.
Jiho laughs weakly and rubs the back of his neck. “I can’t believe the AC is still broken.”
“Mhm. But that’s not important right now. Focus on what we’re doing.”
“Okay.” Taeyang sends a reassuring smile towards Jiho.
“Do you remember what we did last time?” The younger boy nods. “So, how many fingers should I use?”
Taeyang holds up his hands and wriggles his fingers, as if Jiho is a kid who needs to see them to count. “One or two?”
“Yeah, you don’t want to shove your whole hand in right away, am I right?” Taeyang snorts at his little joke, if you could call it that. He carefully wets his fingers, making sure they’re slick before looking down at what he’s doing.
His fingers are cute. His hands are cute. Small, with a wide palm and chubby fingers, but cute. Like, Jiho would rather hold it than watch Taeyang push two of his fingers down.
Today is really basic; Taeyang isn’t doing any fancy tricks but getting straight to the point. He uses up to three fingers (“It doesn’t need to be stretched wider, this is big enough”) and runs his palms up and down the shaft, slicking it down. It only took him five minutes or so, but it feels longer. Jiho has no clue what happened in that space of time though: not what Taeyang did nor what he said. But he does know that Taeyang blinked eighty-three times and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip five times.
“I’ve showed you what to do so now I want you to try.” Taeyang leans close to him (he smells like peaches and acrylic paint and it is Very Distracting) and plops a slab of clay on the wheel in front of Jiho. “You have to be able to make a basic jar or Mr. Cho won’t let you pass art this semester. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”
Jiho’s learned nothing apparently. He spins the wheel too fast and uses too much water. But he made the opening okay and it’s a reasonable height. Taeyang pats him on the back consolingly and tells him he can come by after school tomorrow to practice again.
He lingers at the sink a bit, taking an unnecessarily long time to scrape the clay off his hands and out from under his nails, so as to watch Taeyang as he bends over to pick up the pottery wheel. (He’s wearing tight jeans today). Jiho feels a bit creepy but then again, he’s getting tutored for art. This is a fair enough trade.
He wipes his hands with a paper towel and gives Taeyang a little wave, getting a pretty smile and nod in return. Byungjoo is sitting on the floor, hunched up against the wall with his snapback pulled over his face. He’s probably asleep, so Jiho kicks his shin. “Wake up I’m done.”
Byungjoo hisses and rubs his leg, sending Jiho a non-threatening glare. “Rude.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, making sure to hit Jiho’s side with it as he swings it up. “How was remedial art tutoring?”
“I made a pot?” And stared at Taeyang’s ass, but he doesn’t say that. Byungjoo doesn’t need to know that.
“Your tutor’s totally hot then, right?”
Jiho splutters. “What?”
“You do realize that your face, like, makes these… faces, right?” He squints. “Like, you were just looking hella creepy right now; your ‘I just saw a great piece of ass’ look.”
Jiho kicks him again.
He comes by the next day after school and is greatly disappointed to see Mr. Cho in the corner. Now he absolutely has to focus on art. Then again, Taeyang is a work of art, a masterpiece, so close enough. Anyway, his eccentric art teacher seems to be too preoccupied painting a unicorn to really pay attention to him and Taeyang.
The school’s air conditioning is still broken, so today Taeyang opens up the windows. There’s a breeze rustling a few papers and ruffling Taeyang’s hair. He’s saying something? Jiho doesn’t know. But he does know that Taeyang looks really nice like this, with the sunlight streaming through the window behind him, like he’s glowing.
Taeyang furrows his eyebrows and waves a hand in front of Jiho’s face “Stop staring at me Jiho, start the wheel.” Oh, Jiho must have been staring again. He coughs quietly hide his embarrassment and sets to work.
It starts out okay. Jiho makes the general shape well enough. He has a little trouble with the lip of the pot, making it too big the first time. Taeyang crushes it back down but keeps his hands over Jiho’s to guide his fingers. “You don’t want the sides to be too thin, it can break easily.” Jiho nods dumbly and tries to ignore the feeling of Taeyang’s breath on his nape.
The third try results in the best pot, or at least, better than the last two. Taeyang pats him on the back and calls Mr. Cho over to inspect Jiho’s work. He studies it carefully, tapping a paintbrush on his chin repeatedly, seemingly unaware he was getting pink paint on his skin. “Hmm, pass. Good job Jiho.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Taeyang,” Jiho replies back. Not that Mr. Cho hears, because he briskly walks back to his corner, but Taeyang does.
Jiho helps him carry the pottery wheels back to the storage room today and they wash their hands in the sink together in silence. Taeyang’s shoulder occasionally brushes against Jiho’s arm.
Jiho pushes open the door to leave but stops when a hand pulls on his elbow. It’s Taeyang. “Hey Jiho,” he starts, squirming his feet together. “If you ever need help in art, or any subject really, you can ask me. I wouldn’t mind helping you out.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Mhm. But don’t ask if you’re just gonna stare at me the whole time,” he jokes, opening the door for a very red Jiho. It’s not until Jiho’s a few steps away from the room when Taeyang calls out again. “But if you want to, you can stare at me over a slice of pizza?”
Jiho flushes even more, but he smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”