Mixtape: miasma
Title: Mixtape: miasma
Author: Anonymous until 1/30/2014
For: ardenesce
Pairing: Baekhyun/Xiumin, Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Wordcount: 3,731
Summary: Xiumin is a statue, watching from the sidelines as the one he loves finds love.
Warnings: statue!xiumin,
Rating: R
One
Playlist >> Mixtape >> Miasma
Because some things are easier written than said, because the hurricane of emotions within me needs a release, and where words fail, music speaks.
For your sleepless nights and rainy days.
÷
>>Track 1
The wee hours of morning before sunrise is Minseok’s favourite time of the day: darkness slinking off as unfiltered light spreads across the sky, pushing past shadows and illuminating the city. He thinks it’s like the human action of blinking: dark becoming light as eyelids lift, eyelashes casting soft shadows on high cheekbones. The sunlight creeping in the windows makes the paint-splattered linoleum floor appear less of a dirty green and more like the vibrant colour of the field outside. This is Minseok’s home, has been ever since they moved him in last autumn. From his stance in the corner, he can see the entire art room, strands of dust flitting through the stuffy air. In his periphery is a grimy glass window - his only eye to the outside world for he never ventures out, can never venture out. Time whiles by slowly and it’s a little lonely; he has no friends, no one he can talk to and no one who can really understand him. He sighs inwardly, still lips struggling to spread. The sun beams in the sky; the clock strikes 7; the door creaks open. Minseok’s eyes light up. The silence is bearable only because of him, the man with the beautiful smile and delicate fingers.
His name is Baekhyun, and he is Minseok’s only companion.
“Hello Minseok,” Baekhyun says, voice raising Minseok’s hairs (if he even has any, because the last time he checked, he was porcelain). Another good thing about his position is that he has the best view of the table Baekhyun works at. He can see the sunlight glinting golden on his brown hair, illuminating his pale skin, and he can’t help but feel a stirring within him. It’s unnatural, a statue being able to think and feel but he’s not the first of his kind - the other statues he’d been made with all had their own minds.
(What a cruel fate he has: to be considered a “non-living thing” when he’s very much alive on the inside.)
The hours while by with swift brush strokes and thick paint that vaporises into the air. Minseok likes the heady paint smell because it reminds him of Baekhyun, and the occasional gusts of summer wind through the window mixes it with the earthy scent of the outside. The scene of the art room melts away into a beautiful field of green, and Baekhyun would hold his hand (and his hand would come away stained with white paint). The creaking of the chair breaks the vision and Minseok comes back to reality, disappointed. He looks longingly towards Baekhyun, watches him bite his lips in concentration, steady hand controlling the paintbrush. He can watch all he want, wish all he want but nothing will ever come out of it because to Baekhyun, he is only a statue, a marble piece of decoration. Baekhyun will never notice his admiring gaze nor will he hear his thumping heartbeat, and really, he should have gotten over the sadness already.
It’s been an unrequited love for a year now.
(Minseok doesn’t really mind.)
I don’t believe that anybody
feels the way I do
about you now.
÷
>>Track 2
The setting sun casts an orange glow about the room and Minseok feels a little sad inside. He’s never liked sunsets; they remind him of autumn, orange leaves cascading down trees aching with loss. He doesn’t like sunsets because after the sun dies down comes the darkness and the feeble moon whose light is too dim for him to see past his nose, much less see Baekhyun. One thing he does like, however, is that sometimes Baekhyun would indulge in a little chitchat as he packs up the paints and waits for his work to dry. Today, with a morose orange flush on his face, he plops on the table beside Minseok while drying his brushes with a dirty rag.
“How’re you doing, buddy?”
If Minseok’s marble-carved eyes could gleam they would be shining now. There are butterflies in his stomach; his heart thumps a fast drumbeat in his chest, so loud it almost drowns out Baekhyun’s level breaths.
But of course Minseok can’t answer, can’t do anything but stand as still as a statue.
Baekhyun chuckles to himself, setting down the rag.
“I don’t know why I keep talking because you never answer. It’s not like you can.”
Minseok’s heart falls and he wants so desperately to cry out -just once- that he understands, that there are a thousand answers in his head, in his heart, just that he has no way to say them, that even if his marble lips could move he still wouldn’t be able to make a sound-
“It’s okay. I like talking to you. It always calms me down, and when I look at you I feel inspired to paint a thousand more strokes,” Baekhyun says, leaning on his shoulder. The sudden human heat shocks him but the warmth is comforting and Minseok wants to imprint this feeling into his memory so he can savour it in the times he spends alone. They share each other’s company in a comfortable silence, the sound of Baekhyun’s inhales and exhales forming a peaceful lullaby.
They don’t go to sleep. Instead, Baekhyun leaves soon after, taking with him the warmth and Minseok’s left alone in the room, freezing himself with words long disintegrated in time.
Because everything’s always colder
when you’ve known the comfort of warmth,
and the loss of that warmth is what slowly
but surely
kills you.
÷
>>Track 3
When Minseok thinks back, it’s all a blur. He doesn’t remember much about life before the art room, but he does remember life pre-Baekhyun. His life goes in phases and Baekhyun has been a major marking point in his timeline. Pre-Baekhyun consisted of chilly autumn winds, noisy students in art class mucking around with paint. There was even a lesson in which they had to draw Minseok with charcoal, and that was the lesson he never forgot.
Coincidentally, that was also the first time he set his gaze on Baekhyun.
Minseok knows that he’s not like typical statues. He’s nowhere near perfect like the statues of Greek Gods with sharp features and muscle definition, neither is he intricately carved like gargoyles. He’s the ugliest statue in the room and the most normal-looking - any realer and he’d be a human, and that was what the students realised while sketching his features.
“It’s kind of hard to draw round shapes when all I’ve been doing is honing sharp-lining.”
“He’s kind of… I don’t know. The more I draw him the more I see his flaws.”
“You’d think if they’d bother to make a marble statue they’d make a nicer looking one.”
And for once, he was happy to be a statue, because if he had tears in him he would be crying by now.
(Statues are not like humans. Humans, when dropped, get back up. Statues, when dropped, smash into pieces.)
The teacher collected the artworks after that and hung it around the class. They all looked about the same, some darker than the rest, with charcoal imprints deep and smudged while others were clean and straight-edged. He saw what they saw, and his figurative heart began to throb when his gaze reached the corner of the room, the last artwork. It was similar to the rest - that was expected of the advanced art class, they were all masters of drawing exactly what they saw, but this one - this one was different. It was the same face, the same stature, but the way the light and shadow accentuated his features in a subtle glow enthralled Minseok, because he never thought, not even once, he would be seen as even mildly beautiful. He kept his eyes open for the artist, but even when everyone else took down their artworks, graduated from the advanced class and vacated the room, no one came for it. They wheeled away the Greek statues followed by the gargoyles but left him by the corner of the room to gather dust in the dark as they shut the door, bolts turning.
Minseok was left alone with his portrait imprinted in charcoal, except it was too dark to see anything.
The next time he saw again, it was Baekhyun, pulling apart the dusty curtains and sweeping away the neglect. He’s older, taller and even more beautiful, and Minseok knew it was him when he saw the man gently blowing the dust off the last remaining artwork. Baekhyun had smiled fondly, now an art teacher of an intermediate class, and in that moment, with the sterling rays of the morning sun casting a golden glow to his face, Minseok felt his heart start to beat again.
And like a drum
my heart never stops beating
like a drum my heart never stops
beating for you
÷
>>Track 4
Statues don’t sleep, but there are times when Minseok sees, and other times he doesn’t. It’s different from humans - humans close their eyes, but statues can’t move and he can’t remember falling asleep anyway. He terms the lapses “gaps”, and when he awakens from a gap, it’s late afternoon and the sun is bleeding orange through the windows and across the walls.
“Stop, wait, Chanyeol-“
“Shhhh, Baek, shhh..."
There’s a moan, and Minseok feels a cold shiver go straight down his back. Two bodies molded together, reclining against the desks used to support Baekhyun’s art works when they’re drying, orange light dyeing them in a dirty wash of color.
The taller man presses kisses into the shorter man’s neck, nuzzling the nape, and there’s something sick about the way Minseok can’t look away; his neck is frozen in marble and his carved eyes hold the whole room in its gaze. Moans, the rustling of clothes, breathy whispers and the creaking of tables fill the silence, and it’s disgusting, revolting, so sickening that Minseok wants to puke. It’s wrong, watching from the corner as clothes fall to the floor and the moans become rasps, shouts, and yet he’s forced to watch Baekhyun rake his nails down the man’s back, writhing in a blend of pleasure and agony.
There’s a sudden silence as the man Chanyeol looks his way, and Minseok feels as if he can see him, see the raw disgust on his face, the disappointment, and worst of all, the ugly jealousy.
when i wake up
I’m afraid
somebody else might take my place
÷
>>Track 5
“I don’t like him.”
Chanyeol’s face is inches away from his, deep voice resonating in the silence. Minseok glares at him, hating the fact that all emotions are lost through the thick marble. The man’s face disgusts him and he doesn’t like the way he whispers things into Baekhyun’s ear or the fact that Baekhyun’s cheeks turn a blotchy scarlet and his gaze drops to the floor.
“He’s a very good friend of mine,” Baekhyun says, and Minseok feels a surge of warmth blanket him.
It’s in the heat of summer, sunlight streaming heat waves through the grimy glass window. It’s getting dirtier as the days go by.
“Friend? He’s a statue.”
Chanyeol’s voice is almost mocking, and the heat boils to a simmering anger. Minseok hates him already.
“We’re very alike. Full of flaws, but somehow in that we are beautiful. I’ve come to realise that in my own time.”
“Well, you’re attractive, but him?”
“It takes a well-trained eye to pick out the gems and an even keener gaze to dig out the raw diamonds. How many times do you think I’ve drawn him to know? Every time I sketch out the features he seems to get more beautiful.”
“You’re a little crazy. I don’t like how it seems like he keeps looking at us.” Chanyeol crosses his arms but Baekhyun isn’t affected.
“His eyes are really pretty if you look at them long enough.”
“I think you’re mistaken. You’ve been looking at the wrong pair of eyes this entire time.” Chanyeol swivels Baekhyun around, back to the statue, and presses his lips to his neck - his sensitive spot. Immediately Baekhyun’s knees buckle and he leans into his hold.
Chanyeol feels a prick of discomfort and he looks up. It’s the statue again, soulless eyes seeming to focus on them. He flips it the finger and continues sucking love bites on Baekhyun’s neck.
when I wake up,
I’m afraid
somebody else might end up being me
÷
>>Track 6
If statues had real hearts, Minseok’s would be a splatter of red on the floor. There’s nothing but marble in his chest but it still hurts anyway, he still hurts anyway. He can’t look at Baekhyun the same way again and yet he can’t take his eyes off him, and even when things threaten to make him sick he still finds the sunlit glow on Baekhyun’s face beautiful, as if his face hasn't been sullied by rough kisses and bruising hands.
There’s a throbbing within him, a boiling anger and frustration threatening to overflow and melt away the marble burden. Minseok hates that he doesn’t even have a legitimate reason to be angry because he’s just a statue; he can’t move or do anything but stay still and take the invisible blows that come hurtling day by day, waiting for the fateful day the marble will finally crack and maybe if he’s lucky there’ll be blood spilling out because he’s so human inside that it hurts-
“Well well, what do we have here?”
Minseok stares at the intrusion. All is silent; the door is still closed and yet there’s a man in the room, leg propped up across his knee as he lounges on a table - the table that Baekhyun paints his artworks on. Blond hair like gold-spun strands, eyelashes that fan and frame his crinkling eyes and a very pretty face - the man is nothing like Minseok has ever seen. He’s dressed in black with some kind of fur cuffs on his wrists, smile dripping with smugness and twisted promise.
“I couldn’t help but be drawn to the amount of negativity around the area - it’s practically a brewing miasma,” the man says in a silky smooth voice. “I’m Luhan by the way, and I grant wishes.”
Minseok freezes. He doesn’t know what to make of the man.
“I’m a god to be exact. A small one, though I’d like to change that.”
You can hear me?
“Duh. I’m surprised to find a spirit in a statue though. I didn’t think they had any of you left. Statues nowadays don’t have feelings.”
Minseok wishes he didn’t have feelings, because what good are feelings when you can’t act on them?
Luhan smiles. Smirks.
“What’s that? You want to act on your feelings?”
A silent draft wafts around the room. Luhan’s touch is searing hot on his marble arm.
“I can help you, but in exchange you have to give me your soul.”
keep on dreaming
don’t stop breathing
fight those demons
sell your soul,
not your whole self
÷
>>Track 7
It’s early morning when Baekhyun enters the art room, arms full of supplies. He stacks them in a corner and unravels his art block, spreading a sheet flat across the table. He’s in the mood for charcoal today, and the object that shows up best in charcoal medium is Minseok, the marble statue at the corner. He turns to face it, grasping the charcoal in his hand when he realises - there is no statue.
“That’s funny, it was here yesterday,” he muses, putting down the charcoal. He takes a look around the room but he doesn’t find any trace of white marble and he’s about to sit down when he hears a scuffling sound. He turns, and there’s Minseok, skin no longer pale white like ceramic marble but a pale rosacea, flushed and pink. His features glow in the sunlight, eyes squinting as if it hurts to blink, and it’s Minseok but it’s not, because this man is human and not a statue.
“Min…seok?”
“…” The man’s mouth opens, closes and opens again, but nothing comes out. Strangled whimpers, struggling to form words - Baekhyun can’t understand him. He reaches out a hand to steady him, and the man’s skin is searing hot.
“Are you okay?”
The man doesn’t answer, just trembles and struggles to speak. His eyes never leave Baekhyun’s.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Baekhyun says, pulling him down on a chair. In the light of the sun creeping through the windows, the man looks almost unreal, skin smooth like porcelain, eyes cut so intricately, and it doesn’t explain the fact that Minseok the statue is gone and there’s a human version of Minseok sitting before him.
Nothing makes sense, but as the summer sunlight streams in, pushing aside the shadows, Baekhyun realises he doesn’t really need it to. The silence is soothing and that’s enough for an answer.
÷
>>Track 8
Minseok’s always wanted to be human; he just never thought it’d be this hard. He doesn’t know how to speak, doesn’t even know if he has the courage to belt out his feelings because seeing Baekhyun knots his stiff tongue in tangles and he can’t get his feelings across. There’s a hurricane in his heart and he can’t control it nor let it out in doses, and so he settles for doing what he always does, sitting by the corner and staring at light pools.
Luhan’s words echo hauntingly in his head: “You only have one day to be human so you’d better make it last a lifetime.”
He’s spent a lifetime watching by the sidelines; it should be his turn to act now.
Except he can’t do it. The light is too bright, and someone who’s always belonged to the shadows can never be able to survive.
They sit in a comfortable silence, watching the golden sun melt down to a sombre orange, and Minseok feels a shiver go down his spine. It’s awfully cold, and his feet - they’re as heavy as lead. There’s a numbing sensation, and there’s a tremor in his head.
“Ready? It’s almost time,” Luhan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and immediately he feels a sense of desperation. He reaches for Baekhyun’s hand, too panicked to be gentle, and presses it to his chest. A thumping heartbeat turning feeble, but the beats are strong and steady, fast and urgent. He doesn’t know how to show his feelings, but all the pain, all the emotions - they all stem from his chest where his heart is, where he is the most human. His feet are turning to marble, toe by toe, stiffening to a mold.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen, searching his face for an explanation, something Minseok doesn’t have the ability to. A cellphone rings - it’s Chanyeol, and Baekhyun reaches for it.
“And there you have it. Your answer,” Luhan’s tone is piteous but Minseok doesn’t blame him. He was stupid to think he had a chance, because even in fairytales no one will fall in love with a statue, and this is not a fairytale.
Minseok slowly lets go of Baekhyun’s hand, and lets him go.
Maybe it’s better this way. Solid marble, strong and emotionless. Nothing can ever break him again.
Being human is exhausting.
His guard is hardening, body strengthening to a tight mold. He lets the human drain out of him, taking with it the ugly feelings of jealousy, of fear, of longing and of love. The marble covers his face, cutting off his breath.
“Well, at least you learnt your lesson. Of all the wishes you could ask for, you asked to be human. That is something I can never understand.”
Luhan shakes his head as he severs the chain between Minseok’s soul and his marble body.
Minseok’s world turns black, this time never to light up again.
so I would do it for you
For you
Baby I’m not moving on
I’ll love you long after I’m gone”
÷
>>Track 9
It’s dark when Baekhyun awakens, head groggy from sleep. The art room is dark; the sky is empty tonight. Someone once told him that the sky is only empty when the stars are all burnt out, and maybe tonight they are.
Dead, that is.
He turns around. Sitting beside him is Minseok, porcelain marble gleaming in the dark, soulless eyes gazing straight forward. Funny, he didn’t know Minseok had bendable marble limbs.
“I had a really weird dream,” Baekhyun muses. It’s a little fuzzy but he can make out some details. “You won’t believe me even if I told you.”
He yawns, leaning his head on Minseok’s shoulder. The marble is stone cold and it numbs the side of his head.
It’s a comfortable numbness.
Something wet drips down the side of his face from above.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen.
There’s a drop of water trickling down the side of Minseok’s face, and if Baekhyun didn't know better he’d think the statue is crying.
’cause all of the stars have faded away
Just try not to worry, you’ll see them someday
Just take what you need and be on your way
And stop crying your heart out
A/N:
Rushed this in a day after changing the plot xxx times, hope this wasn't too excruciating to read! I swear this came out differently in my head;; Hope you like it! [italicised words at the end of every "track" are song lyrics tweaked to fit the story]
One
Author: Anonymous until 1/30/2014
For: ardenesce
Pairing: Baekhyun/Xiumin, Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Wordcount: 3,731
Summary: Xiumin is a statue, watching from the sidelines as the one he loves finds love.
Warnings: statue!xiumin,
Rating: R
One
Playlist >> Mixtape >> Miasma
Because some things are easier written than said, because the hurricane of emotions within me needs a release, and where words fail, music speaks.
For your sleepless nights and rainy days.
÷
>>Track 1
The wee hours of morning before sunrise is Minseok’s favourite time of the day: darkness slinking off as unfiltered light spreads across the sky, pushing past shadows and illuminating the city. He thinks it’s like the human action of blinking: dark becoming light as eyelids lift, eyelashes casting soft shadows on high cheekbones. The sunlight creeping in the windows makes the paint-splattered linoleum floor appear less of a dirty green and more like the vibrant colour of the field outside. This is Minseok’s home, has been ever since they moved him in last autumn. From his stance in the corner, he can see the entire art room, strands of dust flitting through the stuffy air. In his periphery is a grimy glass window - his only eye to the outside world for he never ventures out, can never venture out. Time whiles by slowly and it’s a little lonely; he has no friends, no one he can talk to and no one who can really understand him. He sighs inwardly, still lips struggling to spread. The sun beams in the sky; the clock strikes 7; the door creaks open. Minseok’s eyes light up. The silence is bearable only because of him, the man with the beautiful smile and delicate fingers.
His name is Baekhyun, and he is Minseok’s only companion.
“Hello Minseok,” Baekhyun says, voice raising Minseok’s hairs (if he even has any, because the last time he checked, he was porcelain). Another good thing about his position is that he has the best view of the table Baekhyun works at. He can see the sunlight glinting golden on his brown hair, illuminating his pale skin, and he can’t help but feel a stirring within him. It’s unnatural, a statue being able to think and feel but he’s not the first of his kind - the other statues he’d been made with all had their own minds.
(What a cruel fate he has: to be considered a “non-living thing” when he’s very much alive on the inside.)
The hours while by with swift brush strokes and thick paint that vaporises into the air. Minseok likes the heady paint smell because it reminds him of Baekhyun, and the occasional gusts of summer wind through the window mixes it with the earthy scent of the outside. The scene of the art room melts away into a beautiful field of green, and Baekhyun would hold his hand (and his hand would come away stained with white paint). The creaking of the chair breaks the vision and Minseok comes back to reality, disappointed. He looks longingly towards Baekhyun, watches him bite his lips in concentration, steady hand controlling the paintbrush. He can watch all he want, wish all he want but nothing will ever come out of it because to Baekhyun, he is only a statue, a marble piece of decoration. Baekhyun will never notice his admiring gaze nor will he hear his thumping heartbeat, and really, he should have gotten over the sadness already.
It’s been an unrequited love for a year now.
(Minseok doesn’t really mind.)
I don’t believe that anybody
feels the way I do
about you now.
÷
>>Track 2
The setting sun casts an orange glow about the room and Minseok feels a little sad inside. He’s never liked sunsets; they remind him of autumn, orange leaves cascading down trees aching with loss. He doesn’t like sunsets because after the sun dies down comes the darkness and the feeble moon whose light is too dim for him to see past his nose, much less see Baekhyun. One thing he does like, however, is that sometimes Baekhyun would indulge in a little chitchat as he packs up the paints and waits for his work to dry. Today, with a morose orange flush on his face, he plops on the table beside Minseok while drying his brushes with a dirty rag.
“How’re you doing, buddy?”
If Minseok’s marble-carved eyes could gleam they would be shining now. There are butterflies in his stomach; his heart thumps a fast drumbeat in his chest, so loud it almost drowns out Baekhyun’s level breaths.
But of course Minseok can’t answer, can’t do anything but stand as still as a statue.
Baekhyun chuckles to himself, setting down the rag.
“I don’t know why I keep talking because you never answer. It’s not like you can.”
Minseok’s heart falls and he wants so desperately to cry out -just once- that he understands, that there are a thousand answers in his head, in his heart, just that he has no way to say them, that even if his marble lips could move he still wouldn’t be able to make a sound-
“It’s okay. I like talking to you. It always calms me down, and when I look at you I feel inspired to paint a thousand more strokes,” Baekhyun says, leaning on his shoulder. The sudden human heat shocks him but the warmth is comforting and Minseok wants to imprint this feeling into his memory so he can savour it in the times he spends alone. They share each other’s company in a comfortable silence, the sound of Baekhyun’s inhales and exhales forming a peaceful lullaby.
They don’t go to sleep. Instead, Baekhyun leaves soon after, taking with him the warmth and Minseok’s left alone in the room, freezing himself with words long disintegrated in time.
Because everything’s always colder
when you’ve known the comfort of warmth,
and the loss of that warmth is what slowly
but surely
kills you.
÷
>>Track 3
When Minseok thinks back, it’s all a blur. He doesn’t remember much about life before the art room, but he does remember life pre-Baekhyun. His life goes in phases and Baekhyun has been a major marking point in his timeline. Pre-Baekhyun consisted of chilly autumn winds, noisy students in art class mucking around with paint. There was even a lesson in which they had to draw Minseok with charcoal, and that was the lesson he never forgot.
Coincidentally, that was also the first time he set his gaze on Baekhyun.
Minseok knows that he’s not like typical statues. He’s nowhere near perfect like the statues of Greek Gods with sharp features and muscle definition, neither is he intricately carved like gargoyles. He’s the ugliest statue in the room and the most normal-looking - any realer and he’d be a human, and that was what the students realised while sketching his features.
“It’s kind of hard to draw round shapes when all I’ve been doing is honing sharp-lining.”
“He’s kind of… I don’t know. The more I draw him the more I see his flaws.”
“You’d think if they’d bother to make a marble statue they’d make a nicer looking one.”
And for once, he was happy to be a statue, because if he had tears in him he would be crying by now.
(Statues are not like humans. Humans, when dropped, get back up. Statues, when dropped, smash into pieces.)
The teacher collected the artworks after that and hung it around the class. They all looked about the same, some darker than the rest, with charcoal imprints deep and smudged while others were clean and straight-edged. He saw what they saw, and his figurative heart began to throb when his gaze reached the corner of the room, the last artwork. It was similar to the rest - that was expected of the advanced art class, they were all masters of drawing exactly what they saw, but this one - this one was different. It was the same face, the same stature, but the way the light and shadow accentuated his features in a subtle glow enthralled Minseok, because he never thought, not even once, he would be seen as even mildly beautiful. He kept his eyes open for the artist, but even when everyone else took down their artworks, graduated from the advanced class and vacated the room, no one came for it. They wheeled away the Greek statues followed by the gargoyles but left him by the corner of the room to gather dust in the dark as they shut the door, bolts turning.
Minseok was left alone with his portrait imprinted in charcoal, except it was too dark to see anything.
The next time he saw again, it was Baekhyun, pulling apart the dusty curtains and sweeping away the neglect. He’s older, taller and even more beautiful, and Minseok knew it was him when he saw the man gently blowing the dust off the last remaining artwork. Baekhyun had smiled fondly, now an art teacher of an intermediate class, and in that moment, with the sterling rays of the morning sun casting a golden glow to his face, Minseok felt his heart start to beat again.
And like a drum
my heart never stops beating
like a drum my heart never stops
beating for you
÷
>>Track 4
Statues don’t sleep, but there are times when Minseok sees, and other times he doesn’t. It’s different from humans - humans close their eyes, but statues can’t move and he can’t remember falling asleep anyway. He terms the lapses “gaps”, and when he awakens from a gap, it’s late afternoon and the sun is bleeding orange through the windows and across the walls.
“Stop, wait, Chanyeol-“
“Shhhh, Baek, shhh..."
There’s a moan, and Minseok feels a cold shiver go straight down his back. Two bodies molded together, reclining against the desks used to support Baekhyun’s art works when they’re drying, orange light dyeing them in a dirty wash of color.
The taller man presses kisses into the shorter man’s neck, nuzzling the nape, and there’s something sick about the way Minseok can’t look away; his neck is frozen in marble and his carved eyes hold the whole room in its gaze. Moans, the rustling of clothes, breathy whispers and the creaking of tables fill the silence, and it’s disgusting, revolting, so sickening that Minseok wants to puke. It’s wrong, watching from the corner as clothes fall to the floor and the moans become rasps, shouts, and yet he’s forced to watch Baekhyun rake his nails down the man’s back, writhing in a blend of pleasure and agony.
There’s a sudden silence as the man Chanyeol looks his way, and Minseok feels as if he can see him, see the raw disgust on his face, the disappointment, and worst of all, the ugly jealousy.
when i wake up
I’m afraid
somebody else might take my place
÷
>>Track 5
“I don’t like him.”
Chanyeol’s face is inches away from his, deep voice resonating in the silence. Minseok glares at him, hating the fact that all emotions are lost through the thick marble. The man’s face disgusts him and he doesn’t like the way he whispers things into Baekhyun’s ear or the fact that Baekhyun’s cheeks turn a blotchy scarlet and his gaze drops to the floor.
“He’s a very good friend of mine,” Baekhyun says, and Minseok feels a surge of warmth blanket him.
It’s in the heat of summer, sunlight streaming heat waves through the grimy glass window. It’s getting dirtier as the days go by.
“Friend? He’s a statue.”
Chanyeol’s voice is almost mocking, and the heat boils to a simmering anger. Minseok hates him already.
“We’re very alike. Full of flaws, but somehow in that we are beautiful. I’ve come to realise that in my own time.”
“Well, you’re attractive, but him?”
“It takes a well-trained eye to pick out the gems and an even keener gaze to dig out the raw diamonds. How many times do you think I’ve drawn him to know? Every time I sketch out the features he seems to get more beautiful.”
“You’re a little crazy. I don’t like how it seems like he keeps looking at us.” Chanyeol crosses his arms but Baekhyun isn’t affected.
“His eyes are really pretty if you look at them long enough.”
“I think you’re mistaken. You’ve been looking at the wrong pair of eyes this entire time.” Chanyeol swivels Baekhyun around, back to the statue, and presses his lips to his neck - his sensitive spot. Immediately Baekhyun’s knees buckle and he leans into his hold.
Chanyeol feels a prick of discomfort and he looks up. It’s the statue again, soulless eyes seeming to focus on them. He flips it the finger and continues sucking love bites on Baekhyun’s neck.
when I wake up,
I’m afraid
somebody else might end up being me
÷
>>Track 6
If statues had real hearts, Minseok’s would be a splatter of red on the floor. There’s nothing but marble in his chest but it still hurts anyway, he still hurts anyway. He can’t look at Baekhyun the same way again and yet he can’t take his eyes off him, and even when things threaten to make him sick he still finds the sunlit glow on Baekhyun’s face beautiful, as if his face hasn't been sullied by rough kisses and bruising hands.
There’s a throbbing within him, a boiling anger and frustration threatening to overflow and melt away the marble burden. Minseok hates that he doesn’t even have a legitimate reason to be angry because he’s just a statue; he can’t move or do anything but stay still and take the invisible blows that come hurtling day by day, waiting for the fateful day the marble will finally crack and maybe if he’s lucky there’ll be blood spilling out because he’s so human inside that it hurts-
“Well well, what do we have here?”
Minseok stares at the intrusion. All is silent; the door is still closed and yet there’s a man in the room, leg propped up across his knee as he lounges on a table - the table that Baekhyun paints his artworks on. Blond hair like gold-spun strands, eyelashes that fan and frame his crinkling eyes and a very pretty face - the man is nothing like Minseok has ever seen. He’s dressed in black with some kind of fur cuffs on his wrists, smile dripping with smugness and twisted promise.
“I couldn’t help but be drawn to the amount of negativity around the area - it’s practically a brewing miasma,” the man says in a silky smooth voice. “I’m Luhan by the way, and I grant wishes.”
Minseok freezes. He doesn’t know what to make of the man.
“I’m a god to be exact. A small one, though I’d like to change that.”
You can hear me?
“Duh. I’m surprised to find a spirit in a statue though. I didn’t think they had any of you left. Statues nowadays don’t have feelings.”
Minseok wishes he didn’t have feelings, because what good are feelings when you can’t act on them?
Luhan smiles. Smirks.
“What’s that? You want to act on your feelings?”
A silent draft wafts around the room. Luhan’s touch is searing hot on his marble arm.
“I can help you, but in exchange you have to give me your soul.”
keep on dreaming
don’t stop breathing
fight those demons
sell your soul,
not your whole self
÷
>>Track 7
It’s early morning when Baekhyun enters the art room, arms full of supplies. He stacks them in a corner and unravels his art block, spreading a sheet flat across the table. He’s in the mood for charcoal today, and the object that shows up best in charcoal medium is Minseok, the marble statue at the corner. He turns to face it, grasping the charcoal in his hand when he realises - there is no statue.
“That’s funny, it was here yesterday,” he muses, putting down the charcoal. He takes a look around the room but he doesn’t find any trace of white marble and he’s about to sit down when he hears a scuffling sound. He turns, and there’s Minseok, skin no longer pale white like ceramic marble but a pale rosacea, flushed and pink. His features glow in the sunlight, eyes squinting as if it hurts to blink, and it’s Minseok but it’s not, because this man is human and not a statue.
“Min…seok?”
“…” The man’s mouth opens, closes and opens again, but nothing comes out. Strangled whimpers, struggling to form words - Baekhyun can’t understand him. He reaches out a hand to steady him, and the man’s skin is searing hot.
“Are you okay?”
The man doesn’t answer, just trembles and struggles to speak. His eyes never leave Baekhyun’s.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Baekhyun says, pulling him down on a chair. In the light of the sun creeping through the windows, the man looks almost unreal, skin smooth like porcelain, eyes cut so intricately, and it doesn’t explain the fact that Minseok the statue is gone and there’s a human version of Minseok sitting before him.
Nothing makes sense, but as the summer sunlight streams in, pushing aside the shadows, Baekhyun realises he doesn’t really need it to. The silence is soothing and that’s enough for an answer.
÷
>>Track 8
Minseok’s always wanted to be human; he just never thought it’d be this hard. He doesn’t know how to speak, doesn’t even know if he has the courage to belt out his feelings because seeing Baekhyun knots his stiff tongue in tangles and he can’t get his feelings across. There’s a hurricane in his heart and he can’t control it nor let it out in doses, and so he settles for doing what he always does, sitting by the corner and staring at light pools.
Luhan’s words echo hauntingly in his head: “You only have one day to be human so you’d better make it last a lifetime.”
He’s spent a lifetime watching by the sidelines; it should be his turn to act now.
Except he can’t do it. The light is too bright, and someone who’s always belonged to the shadows can never be able to survive.
They sit in a comfortable silence, watching the golden sun melt down to a sombre orange, and Minseok feels a shiver go down his spine. It’s awfully cold, and his feet - they’re as heavy as lead. There’s a numbing sensation, and there’s a tremor in his head.
“Ready? It’s almost time,” Luhan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and immediately he feels a sense of desperation. He reaches for Baekhyun’s hand, too panicked to be gentle, and presses it to his chest. A thumping heartbeat turning feeble, but the beats are strong and steady, fast and urgent. He doesn’t know how to show his feelings, but all the pain, all the emotions - they all stem from his chest where his heart is, where he is the most human. His feet are turning to marble, toe by toe, stiffening to a mold.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen, searching his face for an explanation, something Minseok doesn’t have the ability to. A cellphone rings - it’s Chanyeol, and Baekhyun reaches for it.
“And there you have it. Your answer,” Luhan’s tone is piteous but Minseok doesn’t blame him. He was stupid to think he had a chance, because even in fairytales no one will fall in love with a statue, and this is not a fairytale.
Minseok slowly lets go of Baekhyun’s hand, and lets him go.
Maybe it’s better this way. Solid marble, strong and emotionless. Nothing can ever break him again.
Being human is exhausting.
His guard is hardening, body strengthening to a tight mold. He lets the human drain out of him, taking with it the ugly feelings of jealousy, of fear, of longing and of love. The marble covers his face, cutting off his breath.
“Well, at least you learnt your lesson. Of all the wishes you could ask for, you asked to be human. That is something I can never understand.”
Luhan shakes his head as he severs the chain between Minseok’s soul and his marble body.
Minseok’s world turns black, this time never to light up again.
so I would do it for you
For you
Baby I’m not moving on
I’ll love you long after I’m gone”
÷
>>Track 9
It’s dark when Baekhyun awakens, head groggy from sleep. The art room is dark; the sky is empty tonight. Someone once told him that the sky is only empty when the stars are all burnt out, and maybe tonight they are.
Dead, that is.
He turns around. Sitting beside him is Minseok, porcelain marble gleaming in the dark, soulless eyes gazing straight forward. Funny, he didn’t know Minseok had bendable marble limbs.
“I had a really weird dream,” Baekhyun muses. It’s a little fuzzy but he can make out some details. “You won’t believe me even if I told you.”
He yawns, leaning his head on Minseok’s shoulder. The marble is stone cold and it numbs the side of his head.
It’s a comfortable numbness.
Something wet drips down the side of his face from above.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen.
There’s a drop of water trickling down the side of Minseok’s face, and if Baekhyun didn't know better he’d think the statue is crying.
’cause all of the stars have faded away
Just try not to worry, you’ll see them someday
Just take what you need and be on your way
And stop crying your heart out
A/N:
Rushed this in a day after changing the plot xxx times, hope this wasn't too excruciating to read! I swear this came out differently in my head;; Hope you like it! [italicised words at the end of every "track" are song lyrics tweaked to fit the story]
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