DAY FIVE 💫 #1 Chef-d'oeuvre

[exohousewarming]

Prompt number : #1
Title : Chef-d'oeuvre
Pairing : Baekhyun/Kris
Rating : PG
Warning : (if any) subpar knowledge of the art world, slight angst
Word count : 4.7k
Summary : Yifan's new career change is both sudden and daunting. All he wants to do is paint, and Baekhyun is responsible for keeping him grounded when he's threatened with stress.
Author note : Hopefully I didn't completely butcher this prompt, and i'm sorry OP if
there isn't much crack, accept my attempt at fluff instead



“I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” Yifan mumbles into his cup of coffee. He runs his left hand through his short, black hair a few times in agitation, belatedly noticing that the choice to put caffeine into his already-restless body had been a poor decision. But, then again, Yifan thinks while frowning, maybe this whole thing had been a poor decision.

“Good for you, man. You should have never dropped art school in the first place,” Kyungsoo, the man sitting at the other end of the table, responds. Yifan can’t exactly agree. Three years he’d spent honing his artistic skills, trying to make his childhood dream come true, but before his art career could even have a chance to blossom Yifan had chickened out, too afraid of the prospect of being the clichéd art grad, struggling to get by. In the end, Yifan had enrolled in university to get a degree in marketing, settling on a run-of-the-mill corporation job after graduation that paid his bills rather nicely. Most importantly, if he had never dropped out, he would have never met Baekhyun, his fiancé, at business school.

But sometime after Yifan’s twenty-eighth birthday, he’d gotten an itch, a very strong itch to pull out his easel and paint brushes once again. The career path he’d chosen, he realized at that moment, left little room for self-expression, and Yifan felt he had a lot to express. It had taken him another six months to work up the nerve to quit, and to save up some cash, before the real work began.

“There’s just… so much to think about,” Yifan confesses, putting down the coffee Kyungsoo had given him when he had first entered the younger man’s office and decides for the sake of his health that he does not need extra caffeine at two in the afternoon, especially when his hands are already shaking without it.

He’s starting this career from scratch. The only person helping him was going to be himself, and Kyungsoo, of course, an old friend from art school before Yifan had dropped out.

“I bet there is,” Kyungsoo agrees. The smaller man is well dressed and Yifan feels a tad embarrassed for showing up in jeans; this is a professional meeting after all.

“So,” Yifan swipes his tongue over his bottom lip? “You’ll spread the word?”
“Of course, Yifan,” Kyungsoo responds, looking earnest. Kyungsoo had always been introverted, but Yifan knew him to be a nice guy, despite the sometimes cold or formal exterior.

“Thank you so much, I don’t think I could get my project off the ground if it weren’t for you,” Yifan admits, and it’s true. Starting from nowhere… his dream would be impossible. Thanks to Kyungsoo, he could at least hope to start from somewhere, even if that somewhere is just a few inches off the ground.

“I can always get your pieces in here, I’m sure, if I put in a good word for you. If I can recall that amazing piece you sculpted in second year, maybe I won’t even have to,” Kyungsoo remarks. Yifan remembers that sculpture, and the three weeks of little sleep it took to finish it. In the end, he had decided the effort had been worth it, and Yifan hopes he can achieve that same feeling now about his new career.

“I’m not going to be making sculptures, though, it’s painting that I want to make, good old fashioned paint on a canvas.” Yifan’s fingers itch even know to take out a brush, especially since Kyungsoo’s office is decorated with several well-known and beautiful pieces of art.
“I remember your style not being so, uh, old fashioned. Lots of abstractions and whatnot,” Kyungsoo points out.

“I’ll start with landscapes, you know, things people might actually want to purchase from me. I’m not as pompous as I used to be, hiding meanings in every line and more obsessed with originality than the big picture coming together, or not coming together, when I thought that meant more,” he explains. It had always felt amazing to tuck emotions and words away in almost indecipherable pieces, but Yifan’s not famous, and he doesn’t have the liberty to make money off of whatever tickles his fancy.

“Ah, I hope business school didn’t kill the artist in you, Yifan,” Kyungsoo teases good-naturedly.

“My artistic flame?” Yifan huffs, “no way that will never die out!”

He finishes up his conversation with Kyungsoo, mind slightly clearer, but the cards that Kyungsoo gave him, with numbers and names and connections, feel heavy in his pocket. A lot of this whole career switch being successful rides on other people taking a chance on him, and Yifan, for all his playful boasting, is only learning to take chances. Sure, Kyungsoo believes in him-and Baekhyun, a voice in the back of his head thinks-but Yifan has not made a name for himself, has no portfolio to show off that isn’t three years old and covered in dust in the back of some closet, and has yet to even pick up a paintbrush and see where his skills are even at.

As he walks through the gallery, scanning the works on display out of the corner of his eye, he notices a figure crouched at a weird angle and wearing a paint-splattered shirt. Upon closer inspection, Yifan notices that the man who is holding a pencil to some twisted statue, that’s there more as decoration rather than a collection piece, looks oddly familiar.
“Chanyeol?”

The figure looks up, wide eyes searching for whoever spoke his name through the fringe of his mop-like haircut.

“Kris-Hyung?” Chanyeol calls, face twisted in confusion. Yifan grimaces at the mention of Kris, the name he’d chosen as his title during a weird six month period when he had found Yifan to be unsatisfactory for his….artistic desires.

“It’s Yifan, Chanyeol, no one has called me that since I was nineteen.”

“What are you doing here?” Chanyeol incredulously asks.

“Meeting with Kyungsoo,” he takes a moment to think about what to say next, “I’m thinking of… getting back into the art trade.”

Chanyeol’s eyes light up, like that’s the best news he’s heard all week. “Really? That’s great! I knew those big hands of yours were made to wield a brush and not type at a computer, or whatever it is you do with a business degree… what do you do with a business degree? Well, I guess I wouldn’t know. Anyways, that’s fantastic; you can take the man out of the art, but you can’t take the art out of the man, is that right?”

“Uh,” Yifan hesitates because no Chanyeol that is definitely not the correct expression, “right”.

“So from where are you planning to work, from home?” Chanyeol asks, putting away his pencil, which Yifan has always found to be a terrible measuring tool.

“No,” he exhales, “I’m looking to rent a studio, something small. I don’t want to bother Baekhyun…”

“Baekhyun?”

“My fiancé, Chanyeol, you were at the engagement party.” Yifan recalls that Chanyeol’s head is 99% filled with artistic inspiration and only 1% memory.

“Oh, yes, of course, how could I forget?” he tries to wink but it’s over exaggerated and both eyes close, “your little pup.” Yifan acknowledges that Chanyeol makes no sense because that’s always a better way to approach conversations with him.

“…Anyways, how is life treating you?” Yifan changes the subject. The party had been almost a year ago, and Chanyeol, always illusive, hasn’t drop in a word since.

“Oh you know, sold a couple pieces to some of those galleries in New York, the one’s Kyungsoo is so intensely jealous and in awe of,” he laughs, the sound coarse but soothing. Hardly anything has sounded calming to Yifan since he quit his job; every sound like a pickaxe digging vigorously at his frazzled brain.

Yifan is a little shocked by Chanyeol’s words, however. “That’s… pretty amazing, Chanyeol. Your work probably goes for thousands!”

“Add another zero, and you’ll be seeing eye-to-eye with my patrons,” he fails at another wink, “I need to stay humble. It took a lot of sweat and unfortunately, blood-chisels are pointy-to get where I am today,” Chanyeol adds with a sheepish grin. Yifan thinks he sees a fading cut under Chanyeol’s eye, and wonders if it’s a chisel battle wound.

Yet, Yifan can’t help but admire Chanyeol, despite his jealously. Yifan might have thrown in the towel when the pressure for financial success had cracked him, but Chanyeol had persevered. Chanyeol had worked up to three jobs and lived in some of the dodgier parts of town just to stay afloat and keep creating, never once putting money over his passion. It’s no surprise Chanyeol has already made a big name for himself on an international scale… his imagination always persisted despite any hardship.

Yifan compares himself to Chanyeol and feels his heart sinking.

“Congratulations, Chanyeol! Really!” he has to go, “I’ll see you around?”

“Definitely!” Chanyeol chirps, “I’ll be in Barcelona for a few weeks next month, but I can always make time for you, Kris-Hyung!”

Yifan leaves Kyungsoo’s gallery and catches the bus for a short ride home, trying not to let the remorse weigh him and the whole world down.

***

“Thank you very much for you time,” Yifan sighs into his iPhone, wondering if his smart phone will soon become a luxury he won’t be able to afford.

He had been on the phone with one of the numbers Kyungsoo had given him, asking about exhibiting some pieces. He has yet to really sit down and paint something worth showcasing, but that fact is irrelevant. The woman had let him down by saying too many artists, better known artists, had asked her the same request, and she didn’t have any room to offer him, unless he had been willing to pay, which he wasn’t.

Kyungsoo will surely let Yifan show off his work for free, but that… Yifan doesn’t want his pieces hung up as a favour rather than their intrinsic value as good paintings. He wants to see his paintings on display knowing they deserve to be there, otherwise what would be the point of turning to this new career full-time?

“Do you want me to make you some tea while you work?” Baekhyun asks. Yifan had almost forgotten his fiancé is in the room as well, silently washing the dishes from dinner. Yifan hadn’t had any appetite for the stew Baekhyun had cooked, in fact the smell had almost made him feel a little woozy.

“No thanks,” Yifan huffs, the rejection from the last phone call still occupying his thoughts.
“Are you sure?” Baekhyun’s voice is gentle, and Yifan hasn’t heard his fiancé speak like this in a while and Yifan doesn’t know why. Either way, he’s thankful, because he knows the smaller man’s typically loud voice would do nothing to sooth the migraine that’s slowly creeping up on him.

Yifan looks at the clock over the stove and groans; it’s not even 8 PM yet. The days feel twice as long and twice as boring when he’s making phone calls all day and keeping tabs on both studio offers and his bank account from his laptop. Sometimes he thinks about Baekhyun, while he’s away at work, and how there’s only one of them earning money at the moment. The thought drives Yifan to keep going, even if he’s getting absolutely nowhere.

“I’m fine, why don’t you go to bed?” Yifan suggests, and he tries to reason whether or not he should call the next business card from the pile.

He sees Baekhyun frowning from his peripherals and Yifan tries to focus on the digits in front of him.

“It’s too early for bed, Yifan. Am I really such a bother to you while I’m awake?” Baekhyun asks, his frustration palpable. He looks adorable as ever wearing one of Yifan’s old t-shirts despite still in his office pants, brown hair ruffled from an inevitable nap on the train ride home. It’s unnerving to see him upset.

“What?” Yifan gapes, shocked, “no, I-”

“Never mind, I’m sorry, I know you have lots of work to do… I’ll just leave you to it,” Baekhyun comments, and Yifan watches him leave to their bedroom and close the door, the pots in the sink only half-washed.

Yifan debates following him, because the distressed look on Baekhyun’s face is the one Yifan hates to see most of all and always does whatever he can to soften it, but… there’s still work to do. Yifan needs potential patrons, and he has to work diligently if he wants to get them.

At 3AM Yifan ends up crashing on the couch in the living room, too exhausted to walk the extra few steps to the bedroom. He thinks he hears Baekhyun getting up to go to work in the morning, but he more or less doesn’t wake up and ends up missing him.

It’s a bit lonely, he admits to himself, being left at home. Yifan tries not to dwell on it.

***

Two weeks later and Yifan still finds himself no more at ease. He’d finally craved on supplies and bought himself a few decent sized canvases and some oil paints. He has an old easel somewhere in the back of his closet, and he takes it out and sets it up in the living room right next to the window, so it captures the natural sunlight.

A paintbrush is a better tool for expressing what Yifan wants to articulate than his own voice, and he swipes his anxieties over the canvas, letting his fears bleed and settle into the picture. It’s relaxing, and every hour he spends sitting in one their dining room chairs that he dragged out to the living room, mixing blues and soft yellow on his pallet, he feels a little more like himself. The old self, way back when he had still be in art school. If anything, it’s therapeutic.

It distracts him from everything else.

He still hasn’t found a studio. He has found some… but none of them are affordable. They’re all too small and too costly, and Yifan knows a place that that would stifle his creative capabilities.

He doesn’t sleep well at night, either, if he sleeps at all. He worries over whether his paintings are good enough. He doesn’t have to gain international status and fill galleries entirely with his pieces like Chanyeol, but he does need them to be good enough to sell.
Worst of all, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. A career switch so early on in life… Yifan sometime wonders if it’s too much. It’s not like he had hated his old job… he had only quit because of his love for art.

It’s late evening and Yifan’s mindlessly scrolling though listings for a workspaces once again. He checks several times per day, yet the sites don’t update nearly often enough and he it’s mostly useless. Still, he compares all the rent prices and bites the inside of his cheek as he disapproves them all.

He doesn’t hear Baekhyun enter the dining room but he does feel him place a hand on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” he acknowledges.

“I think you need to close you laptop for tonight?” Baekhyun phrases it like a question.

“What? But I’m working?” Yifan’s been staring at the same listing for the past twenty minutes, wondering if the tiny studio would be worth it. He knows it’s not, but maybe if he crunches the numbers in his head another time it will be.

“You’re being obsessive; there’s nothing here that won’t be available to you in the morning. You can… I don’t know… spend some time with me?” his fiancé offers, and Yifan keeps his eyes focussed on his computer screen.

“Baekhyun, I don’t have time!” he grumbles in indignation.

Baekhyun raises his voice, and Yifan’s fist clenches, “no time for me, what am I, a painting on the wall?”

“Baekhyun, I’m under a lot of stress right now…”

Baekhyun is nearly shouting, his gravelly voice like daggers to Yifan. “I know you are, Yifan! You’re working yourself too hard. When was the last time you had a shower, four days ago? Last time you shaved, had three meals a day, brushed your teeth before bed?”

Yifan knows Baekhyun has a point. “Knock it off, okay! I get it, I’m a mess and terrible boyfriend…can’t you just leave me alone and be quiet for once?”

“Yifan…”

Silence falls over the kitchen. Baekhyun looks at him sadly, defeated, and Yifan instantly regrets his words.

“Baekhyun… I don’t… that’s not…” he sees beads of water glistening on the ends of Baekhyun’s eyelashes. “Fuck, I’m really an idiot,” he whispers.

Baekhyun wipes his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater, “you are an idiot. You haven’t been taking care of yourself at all.”

“I know, Baekhyun. There’s… there’s so much to do, so much that’s unsure. I could completely fail… I’m terrified,” Yifan discloses, finally, to the one person who understands him best.

“You’re not doing this alone, Yifan. I’m here, okay, I’m here,” Baekhyun pulls Yifan forward from his seat at the table so that he fits against Baekhyun’s chest. Baekhyun is so warm, and he smells one part himself and another part Yifan. It’s silly how easily Yifan can forget that he has Baekhyun, the soft, small, sometimes too loud and too noisy Baekhyun, the one that loves him almost without condition, and who Yifan best associates with the word home.
“Come with me,” Baekhyun commands in a gentle voice, tentatively pulling Yifan up by his hands and to the living room, and pushes Yifan so that he falls back onto their leather sofa. Baekhyun tosses a blanket at him, and then disappears into the bathroom down the hall.
Yifan hears the sound of water in the tub, and realizes that Baekhyun is running him a bath. His fiancé step back out into the hallway, sleeves rolled up, and beckons Yifan to him. Yifan enters their bathroom, feels the fluffy rug between his toes, and exhales. Yes, a bath, Baekhyun always knows what he needs.

Baekhyun throws in a fistful of lavender bath salts and checks the temperature of the water. When their tub is full, he turns off the tap and focusses his attention back at Yifan.

“You, get naked.”

“Well,” Yifan teasingly wiggles his eyebrows, “if you insist.”

“I do insist, Baekhyun bites back, “unless you want to get all your clothes wet.”

Yifan chuckles to himself but obeys, and steps into the tub. The temperature of the water is pleasant, and it shoots goosebumps up Yifan’s legs. He slowly lowers himself into the bath, content as the lavender scent nips at his nose. Baekhyun had bought himself those bath salts ages ago, but Yifan ended up being the one who liked them the most.

He sees Baekhyun make to step out of the bathroom. “Wait, aren’t you going to get in with me?”

“In with you?” Baekhyun repeats, probably thinking that Yifan should have some time alone. Yifan, however, does not want to be alone with his thoughts anymore, he wants Baekhyun. “Alright.”

Baekhyun strips and clambers into the tub behind Yifan, settling his legs beside his torso and wrapping his arms around Yifan. It probably looks a little silly, because Yifan is tall and Baekhyun’s average height at best, but he doesn’t care. Baekhyun’s arms feel a hundred times warmer than the water, and he leans back until he’s against Baekhyun’s chest.

Baekhyun hums and sings a few melodies into his ear, because Baekhyun’s always been musical like that, and Yifan closes his eyes. Baekhyun drags his arms up from around Yifan and settles his fingers onto his shoulders. He begins to dig at Yifan’s tightly-bound muscles, slowly loosening them as he works. Yifan relaxes; this feels so much better, letting Baekhyun take care of him like this, than painting. Yifan can give up a stable job to pursue his art fulltime, but there’s nothing in the whole galaxy that he would trade for Baekhyun. In Yifan’s universe, everything revolves around Baekhyun instead of the sun, even in those moments when he pushes him away. If every person is a work of art, Baekhyun is a masterpiece.

When the air in the bathroom becomes too steamy, Baekhyun pulls Yifan up and out of the bath and towels them both dry. They both brush their teeth in the sink, elbows bumping, before Baekhyun leads him to the bedroom.

Baekhyun had changes the sheets that morning, and Yifan sighs as he climb under the covers, rubbing against the sheets and appreciating their silky texture. Baekhyun follows and grabs his hand under the blankets, and Yifan squeezes it, already about to doze off.

“Yifan?”

“Yeah, Baek?”

“Tomorrow we’re going to have an ‘us’ day. I’m not going to go in for work, and neither of us are going to get out of this bed until at least noon, okay?” Baekhyun’s voice is a bit muffled, and Yifan imagines that he’s already snuggling himself into the pillows, but he sounds determined.

Yifan thinks about all the work he could do tomorrow, and how much he doesn’t want to. “Sounds good to me.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too, Baekhyun,” Yifan switches off the bedside lamp, “goodnight.”

The next morning Yifan wakes up to the sun already high in the sky and Baekhyun peering at him from his side of the bed. The second he opens his eyes, a kiss is pressed to his temple, and Yifan knows he’s going to have a good day. True to his word, Baekhyun had called in to miss work, and Yifan grins because he can’t remember the last time they got to sleep in with each other on a Wednesday.

Baekhyun gets up earlier than him to cook breakfast, and to Yifan’s delight he brings it back so they eat with their limbs still tangled in the sheets. They leave their dishes on the nightstand and slowly make their way to the living room, Baekhyun with the conformer around his shoulders.

They end up on the couch watching TV together, nestled close and sharing kisses at every commercial break, each one for satisfyingly sweet than the last. Yifan lets his body slump until his head is in Baekhyun’s lap, and he lets out a pleased sigh when Baekhyun cards his fingers through his hair.

“So much change in your life, Yifan… going to do anything else crazy?” Baekhyun suddenly questions, a familiar, teasing expression present on his face.

Yifan opens an eye, “something else? Like what? What’s crazier than quitting one’s job?”
“Get a tattoo… dye your hair a funky colour?” Yifan wonders if Baekhyun is imagining Yifan’s hair as a different colour as he threads his fingers through it.

“What colour would you have me dye it?” Yifan plays along, “pink?”

“Pink?” Baekhyun squawks, “No, no, you could never pull off a pink. Maybe… purple?”

“Purple,” Yifan pauses, “would you even still like me if I had purple hair? Haven’t my impulses landed me in enough trouble??”

Baekhyun stops his ministrations in Yifan’s hair, “I promise I would still like you if you dyed your hair purple, or even if you shaved it all off,” Yifan sees Baekhyun’s expression grow softer before he continues, “nothing that you do could push me away, you know that. Things are hectic right now, a little messy, and the stress is getting to the both of us. Still, I’m not only here because things have thus far been easy. You’re not a burden to me, not now, not ever, and what I want to do most of all is support you.”

“Baek…”

“The day you told me you were going to quit, I knew things were going to change drastically. I was never upset though, because you were listening to your heart, and searching for happiness, and how could I not be supportive of that? I love you, even when you haven’t done a single household chore in a week,” Baekhyun finishes with a grin, and Yifan feels himself completely captivated by the way Baekhyun’s eyes crease, as if his whole face, not just his lips, is smiling down at Yifan. Yifan’s mouth twitches and he can’t help but smile back, head still resting on Baekhyun’s plush thigh.

“Thank you,” he says in reply, “but really, Baek, what if things go badly?”

“Does it matter? My salary can deal with the rent just fine, although we might have to cut back on our quality of shampoo. I can take care of you until you figure things out, Yifan so don’t stress anymore.” Baekhyun leans down to press one last soothing kiss to Yifan’s brow with his thin and puckered lips, and the worries seem to melt off of him.

“I’ll try not to,” he answers, “but I make no promises.”

“Well, as long as you try, that’s good enough.”

“Yeah.” Yifan echoes it to himself, as long as I try, that’s good enough.

Just then, Yifan’s cell phone rings, from where he’s left it last night at the table. Baekhyun shoots him a look, like he’s daring him to ignore it stay with him on the couch, but Yifan knows he can’t miss a call. Baekhyun has helped him destress and taught him to be less hard on himself, but a phone call means a whole plethora of possibility.

He looks at the caller ID and deflates a little bit.

“Oh, hi, Chanyeol…” he greets.

“You don’t sound so excited to hear my voice,” comes Chanyeol’s signature tone, way too loud and spotted with mirth.

Yifan composes himself, “I thought it might be a business related call, is all.”

“Oh, yeah, well that’s kind of why I’m calling you. You see in a few days I’m off to Barcelona, and I’ll be in Spain for a few weeks. Once I’m in Europe, you know I could never miss a chance to see the renaissance art in Italy, and I might just go see how my pieces are doing in New York while I’m abroad…”

“Oh, well, good for you…” Yifan responds, a bit of a bad taste in his mouth. Is Chanyeol bragging to him? Chanyeol would never try to hurt Yifan’s feelings, unless it were a complete accident, he’s too nice of a guy.

“Yeah, it’s going to be an adventure. Anyways, while I’m gone, there’s going to be no one in my studio, imagine all those supplies being unused, a tragedy! Not to mention my cactus, Timothy, needs to be watered bi-monthly and I need to make sure he’s okay…”

“Chanyeol,” he swallows, heart beat speeding up, “are you?...”

“Well, I’m just suggesting that you can use my studio for a while, you know, as your own. You know how I feel about unused spaces so you’d actually be doing me a favour in the end.”
“Chanyeol, are you serious? That’s too generous of you…”

“Not really, I’m just a protective parent over Timothy. But, really, Yifan, if my studio can be of use while I’m on vacation for a few months, then I’d be happy if you accept my offer.”

“I…” Yifan doesn’t know what to do with his hands, luckily Baekhyun has crept up beside him to hold his free one. “I accept.”

“Awesome! Come in on Monday before I leave and I’ll show you around! Right now I’ve gotta go, I have packing to do, but see you soon, Kris-Hyung~!” and just like that Chanyeol hangs up.

“Wow,” Yifan says after a few moments. “Chanyeol’s letting me use his studio. I have a studio? It’ll be temporary but…”

“But it’s a start?” Baekhyun suppliments.

“Yeah,” Yifan affirms, “it’s a start. How strange is it that I get that kind of offer today, after everything?”

Baekhyun looks smug, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you finally let things fall into place on their own instead of your serial worrying? Or maybe because I called Chanyeol a couple nights ago asking if he had any way to help?”

He’s going to owe Chanyeol big time when he gets back.

“You are,” Yifan kisses Baekhyun on the nose, on the forehead, on the lips, “the most amazing!”

“Thanks, I try,” Baekhyun giggles, “But seriously, can you relax a bit more now that that’s been solved?”

“Absolutely,” Yifan answers, “and I believe we have the rest of today to celebrate…”

Painting, Yifan learns, is an art that’s meant to capture something beautiful, a feeling or a vision, and share it with the world. Yifan wonders how selfish he is, if he wants to keep Baekhyun to himself?