the boy who sees himself as a canvas
Title: the boy who sees himself as a canvas
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: kai/kyungsoo
Warning: self-harm
Disclaimer: i don't own anything but the plot lol
Summary: This is loosely based on one of the quotes from Amy Efaw's 'After' - "She can paint a lovely picture but this story has a twist. The paintbrush is her razor and the canvas is her wrist."
Kyungsoo sees himself as a canvas, inside out. He might be masked and clothed but still hollow, still nothing. He likes hurting - he tells himself he’s just painting scars all over his body.
It’s only with scars does he feel more like a picture than a canvas, it’s only with pain does he feel human.
Jongin’s eyes are glued onto Kyungsoo, as the latter cuts out slits on his wrists parallel to older cuts. His body is just bright crimson crisscrossing over pink and overlapping older grey scars. As he paints, obsessed with the feeling of relief washing over him with every cut, Jongin can only watch, fascinated by the boy who sees himself as a canvas.
It hurts to watch how Kyungsoo’s eyes sparkle for a fragment of a second, before going back to those lifeless brown orbs. Kyungsoo does whatever he can to keep them sparkling, but everything is only temporary - the pain is only temporary, and it’s not helping that he’s going to live his life having every single emotion seep away.
This breaks Jongin’s heart.
Kyungsoo and Jongin both attend the same art classes. When Jongin paints over his canvas, it’s all fluid strokes of red, like the way he moves his body when he dances, yet incorporating his passion into his movement. When Kyungsoo paints over his canvas, he paints anything but a straight line, he paints anything but stability because that’s what he least needs now.
Jongin steals glances at Kyungsoo’s canvas, “Your painting looks like shit.”
Kyungsoo tries not to smile and doesn’t stop working - splashes of colour that overlap each other, looking like an absolute mess, yes, looking like shit.
He wishes he had the ability to even feel like shit.
Their teacher tells them to paint out emotions, but Kyungsoo paints out the emotion he can never seem to feel.
After two hours of exasperatedly throwing splotches of paint onto his canvas, Kyungsoo pulls himself away from his art piece, breathless, almost as if suffocated by his stupid desires to feel alive.
Jongin pulls back from his art piece, surprisingly satisfied. He smirks at Kyungsoo, as the latter simply looks away. The younger boy has a strange urge to lean towards Kyungsoo and smile at him until he smiles back, because if he pretended to be okay, at least it wouldn’t be this heartbreaking to be around him.
Jongin’s life at art school bleeds by quickly with his growing fascination for Do Kyungsoo, a fascination so big he doesn’t know if his heart can adapt to contain it. He quietly works on a choreography for a school competition that requires excessive locking of joints, stiffening of the body, yet which expresses a desperate plead for help - a desperate plead to feel alive again, to not live everyday without any reason to securely hold onto. Some nights he sneaks into the school’s dance studio and tries to immerse himself in the role of Kyungsoo, to put himself in his shoes, and dance like he understands every little damn molecule of Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo paints his entire canvas black, leaving a small hole right at the middle. It’s as though there’s a vacuum inside of him, sucking in every emotion he wants to feel, or actually - afraid to feel. Maybe he hasn’t come to terms with the fear of being attached, but he shuts his eyes and whispers thinking that everybody can hear him, that he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life, with himself at all.
Vexed, he dabs his brush with huge amounts of white paint and repaint it all over the black. He doesn’t let his face give away all the frustration his body’s been forced to hold, and gritting his teeth, he paints until the entire canvas is white again. A big question mark, that’s what he is.
Jongin feels extremely nervous, the heart-throbbing-violently-against-chest, horrible-gut-feeling-pooling-in-stomach kind of nervous. It’s the day of his competition and he doesn’t like how the anxiety is ripping him apart.
He lingers around Kyungsoo, hoping he doesn’t creep the fuck out of the latter. He just needs to be reminded of his role in his dance, the message he is trying to bring across via his choreography.
The anxiousness is a little too bit difficult to handle.
It’s only the fifth period of the day but Jongin pulls Kyungsoo out of class, hand clutched onto hand, and into the far corner of the building.
Kyungsoo manages to feel surprised.
“What - “ Jongin crashes his lips onto Kyungsoo’s, shutting him up. He nibbles like a pro on Kyungsoo’s lower lip, teeth sinking into it as it bleeds. Then he slides his hand up his back, scraping it down with his nails, scraping into older scars as well. They bleed.
Kyungsoo is breathless and speechless and he’s used to the pain - but he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding everything out, because Jongin is painting over him, because everybody is a picture underneath.
“Come to the competition tonight.”
A soft light falls on Jongin, circling around him, following him with each movement. He lets his face fall into place, into the mask he’s been attempting all this time to wear.
But he knows, a mask is just a mask.
The music starts and he begins to dance for a life he’s never lived, for a person he thinks he now, loves.
Kyungsoo watches from afar and for the first time in years, he cries.
Kyungsoo is Jongin in some ways, and Jongin is Kyungsoo in others.
a/n: i didn't even know what i was thinking while writing this but hope you enjoy. kaisoo is love.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: kai/kyungsoo
Warning: self-harm
Disclaimer: i don't own anything but the plot lol
Summary: This is loosely based on one of the quotes from Amy Efaw's 'After' - "She can paint a lovely picture but this story has a twist. The paintbrush is her razor and the canvas is her wrist."
Kyungsoo sees himself as a canvas, inside out. He might be masked and clothed but still hollow, still nothing. He likes hurting - he tells himself he’s just painting scars all over his body.
It’s only with scars does he feel more like a picture than a canvas, it’s only with pain does he feel human.
Jongin’s eyes are glued onto Kyungsoo, as the latter cuts out slits on his wrists parallel to older cuts. His body is just bright crimson crisscrossing over pink and overlapping older grey scars. As he paints, obsessed with the feeling of relief washing over him with every cut, Jongin can only watch, fascinated by the boy who sees himself as a canvas.
It hurts to watch how Kyungsoo’s eyes sparkle for a fragment of a second, before going back to those lifeless brown orbs. Kyungsoo does whatever he can to keep them sparkling, but everything is only temporary - the pain is only temporary, and it’s not helping that he’s going to live his life having every single emotion seep away.
This breaks Jongin’s heart.
Kyungsoo and Jongin both attend the same art classes. When Jongin paints over his canvas, it’s all fluid strokes of red, like the way he moves his body when he dances, yet incorporating his passion into his movement. When Kyungsoo paints over his canvas, he paints anything but a straight line, he paints anything but stability because that’s what he least needs now.
Jongin steals glances at Kyungsoo’s canvas, “Your painting looks like shit.”
Kyungsoo tries not to smile and doesn’t stop working - splashes of colour that overlap each other, looking like an absolute mess, yes, looking like shit.
He wishes he had the ability to even feel like shit.
Their teacher tells them to paint out emotions, but Kyungsoo paints out the emotion he can never seem to feel.
After two hours of exasperatedly throwing splotches of paint onto his canvas, Kyungsoo pulls himself away from his art piece, breathless, almost as if suffocated by his stupid desires to feel alive.
Jongin pulls back from his art piece, surprisingly satisfied. He smirks at Kyungsoo, as the latter simply looks away. The younger boy has a strange urge to lean towards Kyungsoo and smile at him until he smiles back, because if he pretended to be okay, at least it wouldn’t be this heartbreaking to be around him.
Jongin’s life at art school bleeds by quickly with his growing fascination for Do Kyungsoo, a fascination so big he doesn’t know if his heart can adapt to contain it. He quietly works on a choreography for a school competition that requires excessive locking of joints, stiffening of the body, yet which expresses a desperate plead for help - a desperate plead to feel alive again, to not live everyday without any reason to securely hold onto. Some nights he sneaks into the school’s dance studio and tries to immerse himself in the role of Kyungsoo, to put himself in his shoes, and dance like he understands every little damn molecule of Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo paints his entire canvas black, leaving a small hole right at the middle. It’s as though there’s a vacuum inside of him, sucking in every emotion he wants to feel, or actually - afraid to feel. Maybe he hasn’t come to terms with the fear of being attached, but he shuts his eyes and whispers thinking that everybody can hear him, that he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life, with himself at all.
Vexed, he dabs his brush with huge amounts of white paint and repaint it all over the black. He doesn’t let his face give away all the frustration his body’s been forced to hold, and gritting his teeth, he paints until the entire canvas is white again. A big question mark, that’s what he is.
Jongin feels extremely nervous, the heart-throbbing-violently-against-chest, horrible-gut-feeling-pooling-in-stomach kind of nervous. It’s the day of his competition and he doesn’t like how the anxiety is ripping him apart.
He lingers around Kyungsoo, hoping he doesn’t creep the fuck out of the latter. He just needs to be reminded of his role in his dance, the message he is trying to bring across via his choreography.
The anxiousness is a little too bit difficult to handle.
It’s only the fifth period of the day but Jongin pulls Kyungsoo out of class, hand clutched onto hand, and into the far corner of the building.
Kyungsoo manages to feel surprised.
“What - “ Jongin crashes his lips onto Kyungsoo’s, shutting him up. He nibbles like a pro on Kyungsoo’s lower lip, teeth sinking into it as it bleeds. Then he slides his hand up his back, scraping it down with his nails, scraping into older scars as well. They bleed.
Kyungsoo is breathless and speechless and he’s used to the pain - but he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding everything out, because Jongin is painting over him, because everybody is a picture underneath.
“Come to the competition tonight.”
A soft light falls on Jongin, circling around him, following him with each movement. He lets his face fall into place, into the mask he’s been attempting all this time to wear.
But he knows, a mask is just a mask.
The music starts and he begins to dance for a life he’s never lived, for a person he thinks he now, loves.
Kyungsoo watches from afar and for the first time in years, he cries.
Kyungsoo is Jongin in some ways, and Jongin is Kyungsoo in others.
a/n: i didn't even know what i was thinking while writing this but hope you enjoy. kaisoo is love.