☆advent day 17 - High Art (Kris/Lay, PG)
High Art
EXO, Kris/Lay, PG, 1440 words
Art class buddies for Emma. ♥ Shamelessly based on my own liberal arts experience though I got away with an ~arts and ideas~ course, hence my lack of knowledge about how real art classes work. ( advent calendar) (Skipping ahead to accommodate a bad day, will be back in order after this!)
As part of a liberal arts education intended to produce well-rounded students capable of both identifying French poets and memorizing the periodic table, every underclassman at Kris' university was required to take an art class. Most of these were intended to be fun. "Art and the Child", "Modern Art and the End of Art", "Art and Religion." Kris' first choice, "Murder and Imagination" filled up in the five minutes it took Kris to log in on registration day. Shockingly, none of the other classes fit into his schedule and by the time he finishes attempting to rearrange his business classes, even the art history classes are full.
This is how Kris, whose Draw Something partners usually give up after one round, ends up in ART 110.
The first day of class, Kris shows up with a pack of pencils and the cheapest sketchbook the school bookstore had to offer. He sits down next to a kid who's sleeping with his head in his arms on the table, assuming that this kid wants to be here about as much as Kris does. It takes thirty minutes for this assumption to be proven completely wrong.
They're instructed to draw an animal to get an idea of everyone's skill level. Zhang Yixing, freshman and hopeful art major as per his introduction, whips up a portrait of a rabbit eating an apple. Kris draws an alpaca that looks like it got into a bar fight. "How avant-garde," Yixing says, stifling a laugh.
"I didn't know rabbits even ate apples," Kris says with an air of huffiness.
Yixing takes it with a smile, leaning over to take Kris' sketchbook from him. Kris almost says something like hey, random dude in my art class with the nice dimple, that's private property, but he sits still, listening to the strokes of Yixing's pencil against the paper as he watches the rest of the students at work. When Yixing turns the sketchbook back around to show him, it barely even looks like the same alpaca.
"A pirate? I take it you're not a realist."
"Think outside of your species boundaries, Kris. Blur the lines a little."
Lecture day is Kris' favorite day. Their professor, a short, pink-haired woman who has a passion for patterned skirts, spends an hour and a half a week talking about art history and theory. However, given that it's a class full of mostly art students, it is essentially an hour and a half long sketching session. Kris, on the other hand, spends the entire class period playing Temple Run underneath the table and taking half-hearted notes about surrealism. Yixing has been working on one doodle for the entire class, the edge of his sketchbook tilted away so that Kris can't see it.
When Yixing drops his pencil, satisfied, Kris steals the sketchbook away. He expects another elaborate drawing of a panda in a baseball cap riding a deer with bedazzled horns. It turns out to be a picture of him.
It looks like one of those caricatures that couples get on vacation. Kris' face is essentially just a chin with a frown and some eyes, resting atop a tiny torso which extends into comically long legs. It's not terribly inaccurate, though Kris pauses to run a hand over the frown Yixing has given him.
"Do I really look like that?" he whispers.
Yixing eyes him thoughtfully for a moment and then snatches the book back. A few swipes of his eraser and strokes of his pencil and he slides his paper in front of Kris again. This time, there's a small smile on his face in addition to some very animesque sparkles drawn in his eyes. Kris looks up to see Yixing grinning at him, dimple out in full-force, and Kris wouldn't be surprised if there was actually a twinkle in his own eyes.
Yixing isn't very bright. Not dumb, exactly, just not entirely there. The one day he showed up having read the required material, Kris pretended to check his temperature, brushing his bangs off his forehead and pressing the back of his hand against the skin. It was the most physical contact they'd had thus far and when Kris pulled back, he thought he might be the one with the fever.
On reading day, they get together in the library to study. The corner they've secluded themselves in smells like damp paper. It's cold and that's the reason, Kris tells himself, that he sits with his thigh pressed against Yixing's on the couch. He spreads out his notes on the coffee table, hesitating slightly out of embarrassment.
"If it ain't baroque, don't fix it," Yixing reads, holding up a sheet of paper sideways to read it. "Your handwriting is as bad as your art."
Kris flushes. "I'm in business, we type everything."
Yixing gives him one of those serene smiles that Kris can't interpret. He's only a freshman, but he postures himself as an old soul. Typical art major. "Ah, yes. I'm sure that your marketing notes are more professional than fuck bitches, get Monet."
"And what do your notes look like?" Kris asks.
He grabs at Yixing's notebook and Yixing doesn't make any effort to stop him, not even when Kris flips to the first page and sees a drawing of himself. It's the first day of class, he knows because the t-shirt Yixing drew him in has a slight smudge on the collar from the soup Kris ate during lunch. It's more realistic than the other one Yixing showed him. A side profile, his jaw drawn in sharp detail, including the scars and acne. The one visible eye has been drawn and redrawn several times, Kris can tell from the deep intentions.
Flipping through the pages reveals drawings and drawings of himself. Some of them are comical; Kris wearing a pirate's costume dueling with the alpaca he'd drawn on the first day of class, Kris drawn in a school girl uniform. Others are more abstract; gesture drawings, the backs of Kris' hands, one page of just his mouth in various contortions. It's a little overwhelming. By the time he reaches the last page and sees himself smiling, the pink of his gums colored in light pencil strokes, he's grinning back at the notebook. "You must get very bored in class," he says, thinking about it for a moment. He closes the notebook tenderly and hands it back to Yixing.
"You're not a bad subject," Yixing says.
It's hard to concentrate as they try to memorize a semester's worth of artist details. Kris keeps sneaking glances at Yixing. He wishes, for the millionth time since he started ART 110, that he could draw. While his interest prior to the study session had been for practical grading purposes, Kris wishes now that he could draw Yixing in return. If he could capture the indention of his dimple or the sleepiness in his eyes, he could make sense of it, the way Yixing has been making sense of him the entire time.
"So this it."
Their exam period lasted an hour, of which Kris needed twenty minutes to scribble down the few artists he remembered the names of and to drop off his sketchbook for their final grading. He stuck around for ten more minutes to wait for Yixing, dicking around on his phone as not to look like he was waiting specifically for him, but it must've been obvious with the way he leaped to his feet when Yixing exited the classroom. Yixing is pulling on his scarf as he approaches, a nice shade of green that complements the red t-shirt he's wearing. Kris is proud that he learned something in that class.
"Can I have your number?" Kris starts to ask as soon as Yixing's in front of him. He's afraid that if he doesn't spit it out, he'll lose the nerve. Of course, Yixing surprises him.
"Have you ever thought about nude modeling?"
Kris pauses, mouth open. "Wait. What?"
"I'm taking figure drawing next semester," Yixing explains. He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket, sliding it into Kris' hand. His fingers are small, delicate, and Kris wants to trap them in his palm to protect them. Instead of doing anything like that, he unfolds the paper, which turns out to be a flyer recruiting models for the figure drawing class
"Sure, I liked drawing your face, but I'd like to see what else you're working with," Yixing says. This smile is easy to interpret- wicked, full of teasing affection.
Kris smiles back. "You don't have to wait for next semester for that."
----
Happy Gatsby writing, Emma! ♥ ♥ ♥
And this has nothing to do with this fic but Rizzle Kicks is the perfect kind of stoner music to write fanxing fic to. In particular check out Traveller's Chant (and acoustic) which basically got me through exam week and their cover of Ed Sheeran's "You Need Me, I Don't Need You". AND THEY'RE SUPER ATTRACTIVE. /promotion
EXO, Kris/Lay, PG, 1440 words
Art class buddies for Emma. ♥ Shamelessly based on my own liberal arts experience though I got away with an ~arts and ideas~ course, hence my lack of knowledge about how real art classes work. ( advent calendar) (Skipping ahead to accommodate a bad day, will be back in order after this!)
As part of a liberal arts education intended to produce well-rounded students capable of both identifying French poets and memorizing the periodic table, every underclassman at Kris' university was required to take an art class. Most of these were intended to be fun. "Art and the Child", "Modern Art and the End of Art", "Art and Religion." Kris' first choice, "Murder and Imagination" filled up in the five minutes it took Kris to log in on registration day. Shockingly, none of the other classes fit into his schedule and by the time he finishes attempting to rearrange his business classes, even the art history classes are full.
This is how Kris, whose Draw Something partners usually give up after one round, ends up in ART 110.
The first day of class, Kris shows up with a pack of pencils and the cheapest sketchbook the school bookstore had to offer. He sits down next to a kid who's sleeping with his head in his arms on the table, assuming that this kid wants to be here about as much as Kris does. It takes thirty minutes for this assumption to be proven completely wrong.
They're instructed to draw an animal to get an idea of everyone's skill level. Zhang Yixing, freshman and hopeful art major as per his introduction, whips up a portrait of a rabbit eating an apple. Kris draws an alpaca that looks like it got into a bar fight. "How avant-garde," Yixing says, stifling a laugh.
"I didn't know rabbits even ate apples," Kris says with an air of huffiness.
Yixing takes it with a smile, leaning over to take Kris' sketchbook from him. Kris almost says something like hey, random dude in my art class with the nice dimple, that's private property, but he sits still, listening to the strokes of Yixing's pencil against the paper as he watches the rest of the students at work. When Yixing turns the sketchbook back around to show him, it barely even looks like the same alpaca.
"A pirate? I take it you're not a realist."
"Think outside of your species boundaries, Kris. Blur the lines a little."
Lecture day is Kris' favorite day. Their professor, a short, pink-haired woman who has a passion for patterned skirts, spends an hour and a half a week talking about art history and theory. However, given that it's a class full of mostly art students, it is essentially an hour and a half long sketching session. Kris, on the other hand, spends the entire class period playing Temple Run underneath the table and taking half-hearted notes about surrealism. Yixing has been working on one doodle for the entire class, the edge of his sketchbook tilted away so that Kris can't see it.
When Yixing drops his pencil, satisfied, Kris steals the sketchbook away. He expects another elaborate drawing of a panda in a baseball cap riding a deer with bedazzled horns. It turns out to be a picture of him.
It looks like one of those caricatures that couples get on vacation. Kris' face is essentially just a chin with a frown and some eyes, resting atop a tiny torso which extends into comically long legs. It's not terribly inaccurate, though Kris pauses to run a hand over the frown Yixing has given him.
"Do I really look like that?" he whispers.
Yixing eyes him thoughtfully for a moment and then snatches the book back. A few swipes of his eraser and strokes of his pencil and he slides his paper in front of Kris again. This time, there's a small smile on his face in addition to some very animesque sparkles drawn in his eyes. Kris looks up to see Yixing grinning at him, dimple out in full-force, and Kris wouldn't be surprised if there was actually a twinkle in his own eyes.
Yixing isn't very bright. Not dumb, exactly, just not entirely there. The one day he showed up having read the required material, Kris pretended to check his temperature, brushing his bangs off his forehead and pressing the back of his hand against the skin. It was the most physical contact they'd had thus far and when Kris pulled back, he thought he might be the one with the fever.
On reading day, they get together in the library to study. The corner they've secluded themselves in smells like damp paper. It's cold and that's the reason, Kris tells himself, that he sits with his thigh pressed against Yixing's on the couch. He spreads out his notes on the coffee table, hesitating slightly out of embarrassment.
"If it ain't baroque, don't fix it," Yixing reads, holding up a sheet of paper sideways to read it. "Your handwriting is as bad as your art."
Kris flushes. "I'm in business, we type everything."
Yixing gives him one of those serene smiles that Kris can't interpret. He's only a freshman, but he postures himself as an old soul. Typical art major. "Ah, yes. I'm sure that your marketing notes are more professional than fuck bitches, get Monet."
"And what do your notes look like?" Kris asks.
He grabs at Yixing's notebook and Yixing doesn't make any effort to stop him, not even when Kris flips to the first page and sees a drawing of himself. It's the first day of class, he knows because the t-shirt Yixing drew him in has a slight smudge on the collar from the soup Kris ate during lunch. It's more realistic than the other one Yixing showed him. A side profile, his jaw drawn in sharp detail, including the scars and acne. The one visible eye has been drawn and redrawn several times, Kris can tell from the deep intentions.
Flipping through the pages reveals drawings and drawings of himself. Some of them are comical; Kris wearing a pirate's costume dueling with the alpaca he'd drawn on the first day of class, Kris drawn in a school girl uniform. Others are more abstract; gesture drawings, the backs of Kris' hands, one page of just his mouth in various contortions. It's a little overwhelming. By the time he reaches the last page and sees himself smiling, the pink of his gums colored in light pencil strokes, he's grinning back at the notebook. "You must get very bored in class," he says, thinking about it for a moment. He closes the notebook tenderly and hands it back to Yixing.
"You're not a bad subject," Yixing says.
It's hard to concentrate as they try to memorize a semester's worth of artist details. Kris keeps sneaking glances at Yixing. He wishes, for the millionth time since he started ART 110, that he could draw. While his interest prior to the study session had been for practical grading purposes, Kris wishes now that he could draw Yixing in return. If he could capture the indention of his dimple or the sleepiness in his eyes, he could make sense of it, the way Yixing has been making sense of him the entire time.
"So this it."
Their exam period lasted an hour, of which Kris needed twenty minutes to scribble down the few artists he remembered the names of and to drop off his sketchbook for their final grading. He stuck around for ten more minutes to wait for Yixing, dicking around on his phone as not to look like he was waiting specifically for him, but it must've been obvious with the way he leaped to his feet when Yixing exited the classroom. Yixing is pulling on his scarf as he approaches, a nice shade of green that complements the red t-shirt he's wearing. Kris is proud that he learned something in that class.
"Can I have your number?" Kris starts to ask as soon as Yixing's in front of him. He's afraid that if he doesn't spit it out, he'll lose the nerve. Of course, Yixing surprises him.
"Have you ever thought about nude modeling?"
Kris pauses, mouth open. "Wait. What?"
"I'm taking figure drawing next semester," Yixing explains. He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket, sliding it into Kris' hand. His fingers are small, delicate, and Kris wants to trap them in his palm to protect them. Instead of doing anything like that, he unfolds the paper, which turns out to be a flyer recruiting models for the figure drawing class
"Sure, I liked drawing your face, but I'd like to see what else you're working with," Yixing says. This smile is easy to interpret- wicked, full of teasing affection.
Kris smiles back. "You don't have to wait for next semester for that."
----
Happy Gatsby writing, Emma! ♥ ♥ ♥
And this has nothing to do with this fic but Rizzle Kicks is the perfect kind of stoner music to write fanxing fic to. In particular check out Traveller's Chant (and acoustic) which basically got me through exam week and their cover of Ed Sheeran's "You Need Me, I Don't Need You". AND THEY'RE SUPER ATTRACTIVE. /promotion