Crepuscular for woowon (1/2)
Title: Crepuscular
Recipient: woowon
Pairing: Leo/Ken
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 9.7k
Warnings: symptoms of depression, pretty detailed
Summary: Taekwoon was constantly in a limbo of twilight, for how long, Taekwoon doesn't really know. There was always something about the numbness Taekwoon became addicted to. That was until the dawn finally came.
Taekwoon looks upon the large canvas with distant eyes. He wonders when the image had started to distort, or when the brush strokes started becoming jagged; when it simply no longer made sense. He doesn’t make a sound as he picks up the bucket of white paint, the edges covered in dried chips from it’s time settled by Taekwoon’s foot. He throws its contents at the canvas, the damper colour clogging the bereaved slashes of maroon and navy. The paint drips and splatters over the floor and onto Taekwoon’s trousers.
Taekwoon settles himself back on his stool, the bucket onto the floor too, and looks up at the canvas once more. He thinks if only emotions were so simple, if only feelings could simply be drowned out too. The thought makes him smile a little; it was a self-loathing thought. Because what would Taekwoon or his ‘art’ be if it weren’t for his eroding heart?
A knock comes at the door and Taekwoon barely twitches in response. Something’s rooted him here, on the stool as he wallows away in his own self doubt. The knock comes again, harder this time, and Taekwoon’s eyes barely shift away from the canvas, his hair curtaining his delicately slitted eyes, lashes fluttering.
“Taekwoon?” A voice chirps, knocking twice more.
Taekwoon licks his dry lips and clears his throat. He tries to open his mouth to speak but only a raspy breath leaves his lips, and he rolls his eyes. He has been holed up in his studio for so long he could hardly remember the last time he’d spoken, or had a glass of water.
He gets up off his stool, making emphasis on the legs squeaking against the vinyl floor, and makes his way towards the door. He reaches for the door knob and grimaces at the feel of the paint on his palm slide against the metal as he twists to unlock it.
Fluffy brown hair and a smile too large for Taekwoon pops out quickly between the crack in the door. Taekwoon takes one look at Jaehwan and sighs heavily. This was the last thing he needed right now. “What do you want?” Taekwon hoarsely asks.
Jaehwan looks past Taekwoon’s shoulder and then back at Taekwoon to grin, “To come in?” He suggests, but it was hardly a suggestion as Jaehwan’s quick to push past Taekwoon and enter the studio as if it were his own. He drops his satchel onto the ground and Taekwoon quickly follows him.
“You need to leave, I’m working,” Taekwoon sternly states, a hand reaching out to grab Jaehwan but he hesitates, his fingers barely tickling the back ends of Jaehwan’s hair. Taekwoon’s hands were still covered in paint.
“What you working on?” Jaehwan swerves, resolved in ignoring Taekwoon's pleas for him to leave. Taekwoon looks down and rubs his hands consciously on his thigh.
Taekwoon found himself in this situation often, though why he continuously fought against Jaehwan’s stubbornness he still wasn't sure. Then again he wasn’t sure how to interact with Jaehwan other than to superficially reject his presence. Superficially because he knows he’s not entirely serious about wanting Jaehwan to leave him in peace…he’s just not entirely comfortable with loud, nosey Jaehwan in his quiet and slightly maddening space either. He grumbles to himself and tugs on his sleeves consciously as Jaehwan makes his way towards the large windows at the end of the studio before turning towards the canvas.
It takes a jerk, a small shift in Jaehwan’s expression for Taekwoon to understand what he's thinking. Jaehwan, Taekwoon had previously noted, was what they call an open book. In retrospect, it should be a rather positive trait, but for Taekwoon it was simply another whisper of criticism he didn’t want to think about.
“You restarted?” Jaehwan inquires, his tone now slightly softer, but Taekwoon doesn’t fool himself into thinking care had been woven into the question.
The only reason Taekwoon could conjure for Jaehwans’ regular visits for the past 6 months, lead straight to his art professor. A batty old man that held too much pride in Taekwoon’s…talents, talents Taekwoon barely had control of and over which his professor had developed a repulsive paranoia. If Taekwoon failed, he failed. After all, the only reason Taekwoon had entered art school was because of his professor’s persuasion.
His train of thought causes him to bite his lip hard enough to jolt back into reality where he finds Jaehwan staring at him rather than his canvas, and Taekwoon can’t seem to find his breath.
“How long has it been?” Jaehwan questions as he heads towards the tattered sofa, covered in splotches of paint and stuffing pouring out the back. He throws himself knowingly upon it, and folds his arm behind his head, eyes never leaving Taekwoon.
“What?” Taekwoon replies and makes his way towards the stool again.
“Since you finished a painting?”
Taekwoon grimaces and looks up at what felt like the millionth raggard attempt in creating something, anything. Talent was something hardly useful if there was no motivation to use it. “I don’t know...what day is it?”
“Friday.”
“Friday?”
“It’s the 18th, Taekwoon, just how long have you hauled yourself up in here?” Jaehwan asks, looking at Taekwoon between the gaps of his feet.
“I don’t know...I can’t remember,” Taekwoon mutters and goes to grab his roller to smoothen down the canvas. The conversionation ends like that, just as it always does. Jaehwan pathetically attempts in making conversation, and Taekwoon consciously shuts them all down. Jaehwan begins to shuffle around on the sofa and Taekwoon counts the seconds in his head until he hears the first subtle snore. Today, it took Jaehwan less than five minutes to fall asleep.
Taekwoon drops the roller to the ground quietly, looking up at the blindingly white canvas, he loses all will to hold a paint brush again. This feeling wasn’t new, it’s just how long it would last that worried Taekwoon. He sighs as he slips out of his grey jump suit, hardly grey anymore with the splatters of paint breathing life into every inch of the dull colour.
Jaehwan shuffles and hums softly in the background as Taekwoon scratches the paint off his hands, cleaning his skin to an extent, but the colour has already dyed itself into Taekwoon. Faint splotches of blue, grey and yellow dig into his skin as if he was bruised. In a sense maybe he was, holding a paintbrush had only ever given him a masochistic sort of pain.
Taekwoon’s day dreaming is halted by the large thump of Jaehwan falling straight onto the floor face first. He groans from where he is, underneath the avalanche of cushions and sofa stuffing he brought down with him. Taekwoon sighs again as he heads towards Jaehwan, he’s sighing but he’s not that troubled when he plucks the cushions off Jaehwan to reveal him half-asleep and pouting.
“That’s what you get for imposing,” Taekwoon breathed softly, and helps Jaehwan up to sit back onto the sofa.
“I’m not imposing, you let me in,” Jaehwan grins and then peeks at Taekwoon. “Why don’t you have a shirt on?”
“I was going to go have a shower.”
“Here?”
“Most of my stuff is here anyway,” Taekwoon shrugs and lets his fingers linger against Jaehwan’s knee until he finally pulls away and starts heading towards the bathroom.
“How long has it been since you’ve gone home?” Jaehwan asks, his eyes following Taekwoon around the room.
“I don’t know,” Taekwoon mumbles.
“You don’t know? You don’t keep much track of time, do you Taekwoon?” Jaehwan laughs, and Taekwoon feels a little light. Most people would be irritated with him by now, would have left Taekwoon and his limited vocabulary; left Taekwoon alone with his fake bruises and unused paintbrushes.
Taekwoon has begun to wonder whether the six months of pestering was a surety of Jaehwan continuing to stay, or just an expiration date impending. The thought of the latter scares Taekwoon more than he thinks it would, so all he does is quickly strip and head to the shower room, hoping the scalding water would burn away the anxiety.
🌹
Taekwoon sits on a lone bench, wearing a button shirt too tight at the wrists and suffocating around the neck. He sits in the middle of an art gallery, staring ahead at a collection of portraits painted from the perspective of technology. The only one that really stood out to him was the one of Jaehwan, an oil piece of him smiling widely as he takes a picture of himself, the screen illuminating his face.
Jaehwan, one of the few reasons Taekwoon has had to leave his studio. Even if it meant supporting his other artist friend, who evidently had more artistic motivation in the span of a year than Taekwoon will ever have in his whole life.Taekwoon uses every fibre in his body not to sigh out the bitterness, envious was hardly his worst trait but even still, he promised Jaehwan he’d try. Try what, he still wasn’t sure, but Taekwoon thinks it means not look at everything as if he’d wish death upon it.
“What’s your favourite?” Jaehwan whispers as he sits beside Taekwoon with an untouched cup of champagne in his hand. Taekwoon smells the scent of cologne and sniffs. It didn’t suit him, but neither did the over-sized suit he was wearing. It still made Taekwoon smile a little though.
Taekwoon looks up at the collage of paintings and points. He sees Jaehwan perk up a little and then shifts his finger. “The one of the girl, at the computer screen.” It was the piece right beside Jaehwan’s.
Jaehwan grumbles unintelligently and takes a sip from his glass before grimacing. “This is gross. What is this?”
“Alcohol?”
Jaehwan rolls his eyes, “Yeah, thanks.”
Taekwoon takes the glass from him. He stares at the edge of it for a moment before putting it to his lips. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not very good alcohol.” Taekwoon remarks with a lick of his lips and settles the glass between the two of them.
“You drink?” Jaehwan asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.
“Sometimes.”
“Six months...and still a man of little words,” Jaehwan ponders with a smile but the lack of tone in his voice meant he hadn’t said it lightly. Taekwoon doesn’t know what to take of it; he doesn’t know what to take of Jaehwan. So he simply grabs the glass of champagne again, and swallows down the rest.
“Jaehwan?” Someone else slides in, and Taekwoon looks up at the stranger and instantly knows he doesn't like her. Then again, does Taekwoon like anyone?
“Ah, Wheein,” Jaehwan quickly jumps up and puts his hand on the small of her back, an action Taekwoon hardly failed to notice. “This is Taekwoon, the friend I mentioned. Taekwoon this is Wheein, the gallery’s artist.”
Taekwoon could hardly hold back the grimace on his face, and he wasn’t going to try to hide it. If anything he’d just wish they’d brush it off as a natural phenomena since his face was hardly adapted for smiling anyway. Jaehwan’s face twitches though, that kind of twitch when he notices something but tries as hard as he can to hide it.
“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Wheein smiles and holds out a hand.
Taekwoon is reluctant but he still found the ability to offer his hand and shake hers. “Nice to meet you too,” Taekwoon grits between his teeth.
Wheein laughs, “Don’t worry, don’t be so tense. I’m not going to ask what you think of it all...I know that’s probably one of the most annoying questions ever.”
Taekwoon simply nods and shifts away back to the small portrait of Jaehwan. He likes it, the kind of smile Jaehwan makes when he’s feeling shy, smile wrinkles folding because of the tension in his face. Taekwoon found it...cute.
“Do you know how hard it was to get him to do it?” Wheein trespasses, her voice trampling all over the nerve calming thoughts Taekwoon had flowing around in his head. “He hates taking selca’s so bad, I had to have Hakyeon behind for a good two hours trying to get him to smile naturally.”
Taekwoon doesn’t know what surprises him more: the fact that Jaehwan had a hard time smiling or the fact he had a life outside of Taekwoon’s studio. It wasn’t like Jaehwan was constantly holed up along with Taekwoon in his own personal prison, but somehow all Taekwoon can remember when he’s not attempting to paint is the sound of Jaehwan sleeping.
“Hey, you alright?” Jaehwan urgently whispers to Taekwoon after shuffling the two of them away into a desolate corner. “I know you don’t like things like these, I just thought-”
“It’s fine,” Taekwoon murmurs, suddenly too preoccupied with how close Jaehwan was leaning in. He decides to revel in it, bending over Jaehwan slightly while the scent of his cologne overpowering the sweet smell of his shampoo that Taekwoon likes so much.”You should probably not wear that cologne again.” Taekwoon says lowly and leans back, his hands trembling ever so slightly.
Jaehwan’s eyebrows furrow as he takes his cuffs to his nose and audibly sniffs, “It was a gift I never opened till tonight, is it that bad?”
“It’s not...bad, it just doesn’t suit you?” Taekwoon comments with a tilt of his head.
Jaehwan slowly puts his hands down and grins, “You think about that kind of stuff?”
“What?”
“No, I’m just kind of surprised is all,” Jaehwan laughs consciously, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t think you were someone to notice things like that.”
“You mean notice you? You’ve been around me for a while, Jaehwan.”
“Yes, half a year and yet this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” Jaehwan scoffs.
“Was that bitterness?” Taekwoon drawls with a lick of his lips. “Didn’t think you were capable of that.”
“Didn’t think you were capable of saying more than two words, so we’re both surprised today.” Jaehwan chuckles and looks up at Taekwoon only to sigh. “How’s the art coming along?”
This was where the light feeling dissipates within Taekwoon. Suddenly reality hits too hard and all he’s left thinking standing in a sea of miracles and paint is the fact that all that’s waiting for him at home is the same white canvas he has kept recreating over the past few weeks again, and again.
“As usual,” Taekwoon hoarsely says. “I think I’m going to leave now.”
“Wait, what-” Jaehwan seems dumbstruck but Taekwoon doesn’t stay long enough to appease his confusion. Taekwoon simply gives into the voice that has been crying for the exit for the past hour, and somehow he can’t believe how fast his legs move.
He’s glad night has come by the time he leaves the gallery. There was always something about the sun that made Taekwoon so unwilling to move. Something so bright against something so dull and hollow as Taekwoon felt made him want to shrivel up in his bed and turn into dust.
His steps eventually slow down as he makes it further and further from the gallery and Taekwoon doesn’t know where he’s going among the pounding footsteps of passersby, and blaring horns of the cars. Everything is too loud.
Why is everything always so loud?
🌹
“Are you not eating properly?” Taekwoon’s mother’s worried voice buzzes through the phone. He could hear cars honking in the background.
“I’m...I’m eating fine,” Taekwoon sighs over a warm bowl of ramen barely touched by anything but his chopsticks swirling around in the soup. “Are you out right now?”
“Ah, yeah I’ve got called into work on an emergency,” She says.
“It’s eleven in the evening,” Taekwoon frowns, eyeing the clock that is ten minutes back.
“Well, you know A&E- look I’ve got to go, okay?”
“Hm…bye,” Taekwoon had barely said ten words to her, but then again she was never one to converse. Life always seems to pull her too fast for Taekwoon to catch up to for even a breath.
“Taekwoon, are you okay?”
Taekwoon blinks, thrown off by the question. “I’m fine, mum.” He pathetically mumbles, and he’s not entirely sure if he wants her to catch him for his lie.
“...okay, honey, I love you.” And she hangs up. Leaving her only son with the feeling that even if he had replied with the opposite answer, she’d manage to find a way to brush it off. His mother undoubtedly was too good with the science of humans, but people were not her forte. Maybe that’s where Taekwoon got it from.
Taekwoon eventually decides he doesn’t want his ramen and leaves it on the island by his open kitchen as he makes his way towards the sofa. There’s nothing but the sound of the insistent clicking of the clock that is ten minutes late and Taekwoon wonders why he hasn’t fixed it yet. He’d noticed it when he first moved in. Jaehwan had pointed it out and Taekwon had said he’d change it eventually. Six months later and Taekwoon still can’t seem to find the will to fix it, to make it right.
A knock comes then, the kind of light, chirpy knock Taekwoon’s ears has become all too accustomed to. Jaehwan. He quickly jumps off the sofa and trips his way to the front door, not very conscious of the fact he was in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt.
“Taekwoon, good you’re awake!” Jaehwan grins and shuffles his way through the crack in the door Taekwoon made. “I wasn’t sure whether you were asleep or painting, but it seems I got you at a good time.”
Taekwoon licks his lips and shuts the door quietly. He’s suddenly filled with a sense of relief. He had been scared that he had made things too akward at the gallery the other night and that Jaehwan might not feel comfortable anymore. But it wouldn’t be Jaehwan if he let something like that get in between them. Then again, Taekwoon wasn’t sure what was between them.
“I brought chicken!” Jaehwan declares from the kitchen, or what Taekwoon attempted into making into a kitchen. It was a work counter before with a sink, but he eventually brought- no, eventually Jaehwan brought in the mini fridge and the portable cooker. Now that Taekwoon thought about it, Jaehwan had also brought in the tattered sofa and the stools. Taekwoon hadn’t realised just how much this place belonged to him as much as it did Taekwoon.
Taekwoon follows him silently towards the island and settles onto a stool. He places a head into his hand and watches Jaehwan throw away the ramen and get out a set of old and chipped plates. “The ramen was cold so I’m assuming you haven’t eaten?” Jaehwan guesses as he reaches out for the cups. Taekwoon eyes the tiny bit of flesh that exposes itself just above his boxers band when he stretches high.
“Hmmm,” Is all Taekwoon says, watching Jaehwan’s fingers as he rustles with the plastic bag and pulls out the boxes. “Why are you here?” suddenly slips from Taekwoon’s lips and he notices Jaehwan’s hands freeze.
“Why? Have I ever needed a reason?” Jaehwan chuckles, but it’s a nervous one. Taekwoon could hardly miss the tremor in his voice. So he lets it go, the last thing he wanted was more uncomfort.
“Didn’t you bring too much food?” Taekwoon notes, watching Jaehwan pull out a neverending series of take-out boxes.
“Have you seen how skinny you are?” Jaehwan squeaks and goes to tug on the sleeve of Taekwoon’s t-shirt. “You’re a walking scarecrow, we need to fill you up.” He jokes and goes to grab another stool to settle on.
Taekwoon picks at the chicken, peeling the skin and then nibbling on the edges. It tastes of rubber and he has a hard time swallowing it down so he just picks, and picks, and picks.
“Taekwoon, are you okay?” Jaehwan asks, his cheeks puffy and full with meat, and Taekwoon smiles, a little, but he smiles.
“I’m fine. Why?” He says and bites into a leg, trying to hold his face together as he swallows it down.
“Nothing, I was just worried. We left each other pretty badly the other day. I just hoped...I didn’t upset you or anything,” Jaehwan trails off, his face contorted into worry despite the smile he was trying so hard to keep up.
“You didn’t, I’m just not very good at public things,” Taekwoon explains, eyeing the pathetic bones limp on his plate. He grabs the cup of water beside him and swallows its entirety down.
“I guess I over stepped my boundaries,” Jaehwan groans, his lips trembling a little as he also goes to take a sip of water. “I just thought you’d like to go outside once in a while. I know you’re having a hard time here.”
Taekwoon doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he doesn’t, but he can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the thought of Jaehwan thinking about him, worrying about him, helping him. But then he remembers why, he remembers that Jaehwan is nothing but a spokesperson for his mother, for his professor, for people outside this studio that are curious or just sick of Taekwoon.
And Taekwoon is sick. He’s sick of never getting what he wants, not even understanding what he wants.
“Do you not like the chicken?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” Jaehwan says with a mouth stuffed and a shake of his head.
“I just don’t have much of an appetite,” Taekwoon says. “Thank you though.”
Jaehwan grins widely, and Taekwoon feels the ache in his chest dull just a little. “No problem, more for me anyway.” He mumbles, chewing grotesquely.
Taekwoon settles his mutilated chicken leg down onto his plate, the tiny smile on his face never leaving even as he attempts to focus more on the scattered bones before him rather than on Jaehwan.
Taekwoon was all too aware of this feeling, the lightness, the dull ache. He doesn’t remember when it started, and he doesn’t know when it’ll end, end in a million tiny pieces. Pieces Taekwoon has only tried to mend time and time again.
But he secretly hopes Jaehwan will be different, but Taekwoon always hopes, and that’s why the pieces never really stay together.
🌹
Taekwoon stares at the entrance of his apartment building. For once he’s on the inside looking out. It’s a bright day, not a cloud in the sky, unfortunately. Sure that meant that Taekwoon needn’t have to wear anything more than a pair of jeans and a loose jumper, but that also meant there were going to be loads of people on the streets.
Taekwoon rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs as he takes the first step out. The convenience store wasn’t far but every step he took felt heavy as if he were carrying several bags of rice on his back.
Rain was good weather. Rain meant hiding underneath an umbrella; it meant less people outside. Rain comes with darkness and grey and everyone seems to be in their own little bubble. The sun meant pleasantries, people smiling and talking, walking in groups. It made Taekwoon uncomfortable.
But he had run out of toothpaste, toilet paper, shampoo and body wash. His toothbrush was so tattered up it resembled his paint brushes. Evidently Taekwoon had run out of excuses not to go out first thing in the morning. What made him even more reluctant is the fact his studio is basically next door to the university campus, which meant chances of him bumping into people he didn’t want to bump into were high.
Although Taekwoon was able to go days without a shower, the paint he inhaled on a daily basis clung to his skin. He could hardly go without using the bathroom and brushing his teeth. With a grumble he huffs and mumbles under his breath, tapping his foot rigorously waiting for the green man to show at the crossing, the convenience store but ten feet away from him. The second the light changes he shoots by the still slowing down cars and dives into the store. He’d made it this far, he could do the rest.
Finding everything was easy, this was the only store Taekwoon ever used; it had the bare necessities, and that’s what Taekwoon survived off. A large portion of his money was spent on art supplies, so forfeiting a real meal for ramen was a common occurrence. After all, Taekwoon didn’t really have anything but his art, even if that was dwindling.
Taekwoon thinks he’s made it well enough. He’s paid for his stuff and is about to head back to the studio, but nothing ever goes so smoothly. Not for Taekwoon.
“Taekwoon?” A familiar voices shouts out, and Taekwoon reluctantly turns around to find Hakyeon waving his hand in the air. Even more unfortunate, he isn’t alone. “Oh my god, it’s been ages!” Hakyeon laughs and goes to throw an arm around Taekwoon’s shoulders.
The rest of Hakyeon’s friends nod at Taekwoon and then huddle into their own private group as Hakyeon begins his torture session.
“Good to see you too,” Taekwoon mumbles, attempting extremely hard not to sigh.
It isn’t that Taekwoon doesn’t like Hakyeon, it’s just that they were on completely different ends of the spectrum. Hakyeon likes involving people, talking, and being friendly, and Taekwoon….doesn’t.
“Haven’t seen you on campus lately, everything cool?” Hakyeon lowers his voice and slides away from Taekwoon, a hand lingering on his shoulder. The thing about Hakyeon was that he was actually rather similar to Taekwoon, but when Taekwoon hides behind his paintings and loneliness, while Hakyeon hides behind a smile and noise, an incredible amount noise.
That’s why Taekwoon feels like he can never really shrug Hakyeon off because although in front of others Hakyeon is obnoxious and particularly annoying, on the rare occasions Taekwoon see’s him, he seems to adjust, to quiet down, as if he too felt a similarity between the two.
“I’m good, thanks,” Taekwoon replies softly, his eyes quick to meet Hakyeon’s for moment until they drop to the floor again.
“Jaehwan says you’ve been working hard,” Hakyeon says, crossing his arms across his chest. “We going to see a gallery soon?”
A small smile forms on Taekwoon’s face, “Ah...uh probably not very soon.”
“Not even before graduation?”
“I...I don’t know-”
“Ah, I get it!” Hakyeon waves his hands. “I get it, sorry I pressed the issue. I heard you went to Wheein’s gallery, does that mean you’ve become more willing to public events?”
No. “Maybe.”
Hakyeon looks at Taekwoon as if he read between the lines and nods. “Well, there’s a party. A small gathering, not a lot of people, I promise. Jaehwan’s been thinking of asking you to come but he’s worried you’ll say no. You didn’t hear it from me, okay?”
“Is there a reason for it?”
Hakyeon looks at Taekwoon and smiles thinly, “Jaehwan’s birthday.”
Taekwoon was thrown off, it wasn’t as if he spoke with Jaehwan about personal things but somehow he thought he’d know something like a birthday. “Ah…” Is all that pathetically comes out of Taekwoon’s mouth, and he’s silently glad Hakyeon is blocking whatever kind of faltering expression is on Taekwoon’s face.
“It’s cool, it’s cool!” Hakyeon loudly shouts out, and throws both hands onto Taekwoon’s shoulders. “Now you know, and of course you’re invited. It’s at the campus’ dorm lounge, Friday night, okay?”
Taekwoon licks his lips and nods, not entirely sure where to place the unusual sense of comfort. Eventually Hakyeon leaves with his friends, and despite the fake greetings and fake laughter, Taekwoon settles down fine with Hakyeon’s sly smile. Hakyeon was kind, if only Taekwoon was more willing to kindness.
>> part 2
Recipient: woowon
Pairing: Leo/Ken
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 9.7k
Warnings: symptoms of depression, pretty detailed
Summary: Taekwoon was constantly in a limbo of twilight, for how long, Taekwoon doesn't really know. There was always something about the numbness Taekwoon became addicted to. That was until the dawn finally came.
Taekwoon looks upon the large canvas with distant eyes. He wonders when the image had started to distort, or when the brush strokes started becoming jagged; when it simply no longer made sense. He doesn’t make a sound as he picks up the bucket of white paint, the edges covered in dried chips from it’s time settled by Taekwoon’s foot. He throws its contents at the canvas, the damper colour clogging the bereaved slashes of maroon and navy. The paint drips and splatters over the floor and onto Taekwoon’s trousers.
Taekwoon settles himself back on his stool, the bucket onto the floor too, and looks up at the canvas once more. He thinks if only emotions were so simple, if only feelings could simply be drowned out too. The thought makes him smile a little; it was a self-loathing thought. Because what would Taekwoon or his ‘art’ be if it weren’t for his eroding heart?
A knock comes at the door and Taekwoon barely twitches in response. Something’s rooted him here, on the stool as he wallows away in his own self doubt. The knock comes again, harder this time, and Taekwoon’s eyes barely shift away from the canvas, his hair curtaining his delicately slitted eyes, lashes fluttering.
“Taekwoon?” A voice chirps, knocking twice more.
Taekwoon licks his dry lips and clears his throat. He tries to open his mouth to speak but only a raspy breath leaves his lips, and he rolls his eyes. He has been holed up in his studio for so long he could hardly remember the last time he’d spoken, or had a glass of water.
He gets up off his stool, making emphasis on the legs squeaking against the vinyl floor, and makes his way towards the door. He reaches for the door knob and grimaces at the feel of the paint on his palm slide against the metal as he twists to unlock it.
Fluffy brown hair and a smile too large for Taekwoon pops out quickly between the crack in the door. Taekwoon takes one look at Jaehwan and sighs heavily. This was the last thing he needed right now. “What do you want?” Taekwon hoarsely asks.
Jaehwan looks past Taekwoon’s shoulder and then back at Taekwoon to grin, “To come in?” He suggests, but it was hardly a suggestion as Jaehwan’s quick to push past Taekwoon and enter the studio as if it were his own. He drops his satchel onto the ground and Taekwoon quickly follows him.
“You need to leave, I’m working,” Taekwoon sternly states, a hand reaching out to grab Jaehwan but he hesitates, his fingers barely tickling the back ends of Jaehwan’s hair. Taekwoon’s hands were still covered in paint.
“What you working on?” Jaehwan swerves, resolved in ignoring Taekwoon's pleas for him to leave. Taekwoon looks down and rubs his hands consciously on his thigh.
Taekwoon found himself in this situation often, though why he continuously fought against Jaehwan’s stubbornness he still wasn't sure. Then again he wasn’t sure how to interact with Jaehwan other than to superficially reject his presence. Superficially because he knows he’s not entirely serious about wanting Jaehwan to leave him in peace…he’s just not entirely comfortable with loud, nosey Jaehwan in his quiet and slightly maddening space either. He grumbles to himself and tugs on his sleeves consciously as Jaehwan makes his way towards the large windows at the end of the studio before turning towards the canvas.
It takes a jerk, a small shift in Jaehwan’s expression for Taekwoon to understand what he's thinking. Jaehwan, Taekwoon had previously noted, was what they call an open book. In retrospect, it should be a rather positive trait, but for Taekwoon it was simply another whisper of criticism he didn’t want to think about.
“You restarted?” Jaehwan inquires, his tone now slightly softer, but Taekwoon doesn’t fool himself into thinking care had been woven into the question.
The only reason Taekwoon could conjure for Jaehwans’ regular visits for the past 6 months, lead straight to his art professor. A batty old man that held too much pride in Taekwoon’s…talents, talents Taekwoon barely had control of and over which his professor had developed a repulsive paranoia. If Taekwoon failed, he failed. After all, the only reason Taekwoon had entered art school was because of his professor’s persuasion.
His train of thought causes him to bite his lip hard enough to jolt back into reality where he finds Jaehwan staring at him rather than his canvas, and Taekwoon can’t seem to find his breath.
“How long has it been?” Jaehwan questions as he heads towards the tattered sofa, covered in splotches of paint and stuffing pouring out the back. He throws himself knowingly upon it, and folds his arm behind his head, eyes never leaving Taekwoon.
“What?” Taekwoon replies and makes his way towards the stool again.
“Since you finished a painting?”
Taekwoon grimaces and looks up at what felt like the millionth raggard attempt in creating something, anything. Talent was something hardly useful if there was no motivation to use it. “I don’t know...what day is it?”
“Friday.”
“Friday?”
“It’s the 18th, Taekwoon, just how long have you hauled yourself up in here?” Jaehwan asks, looking at Taekwoon between the gaps of his feet.
“I don’t know...I can’t remember,” Taekwoon mutters and goes to grab his roller to smoothen down the canvas. The conversionation ends like that, just as it always does. Jaehwan pathetically attempts in making conversation, and Taekwoon consciously shuts them all down. Jaehwan begins to shuffle around on the sofa and Taekwoon counts the seconds in his head until he hears the first subtle snore. Today, it took Jaehwan less than five minutes to fall asleep.
Taekwoon drops the roller to the ground quietly, looking up at the blindingly white canvas, he loses all will to hold a paint brush again. This feeling wasn’t new, it’s just how long it would last that worried Taekwoon. He sighs as he slips out of his grey jump suit, hardly grey anymore with the splatters of paint breathing life into every inch of the dull colour.
Jaehwan shuffles and hums softly in the background as Taekwoon scratches the paint off his hands, cleaning his skin to an extent, but the colour has already dyed itself into Taekwoon. Faint splotches of blue, grey and yellow dig into his skin as if he was bruised. In a sense maybe he was, holding a paintbrush had only ever given him a masochistic sort of pain.
Taekwoon’s day dreaming is halted by the large thump of Jaehwan falling straight onto the floor face first. He groans from where he is, underneath the avalanche of cushions and sofa stuffing he brought down with him. Taekwoon sighs again as he heads towards Jaehwan, he’s sighing but he’s not that troubled when he plucks the cushions off Jaehwan to reveal him half-asleep and pouting.
“That’s what you get for imposing,” Taekwoon breathed softly, and helps Jaehwan up to sit back onto the sofa.
“I’m not imposing, you let me in,” Jaehwan grins and then peeks at Taekwoon. “Why don’t you have a shirt on?”
“I was going to go have a shower.”
“Here?”
“Most of my stuff is here anyway,” Taekwoon shrugs and lets his fingers linger against Jaehwan’s knee until he finally pulls away and starts heading towards the bathroom.
“How long has it been since you’ve gone home?” Jaehwan asks, his eyes following Taekwoon around the room.
“I don’t know,” Taekwoon mumbles.
“You don’t know? You don’t keep much track of time, do you Taekwoon?” Jaehwan laughs, and Taekwoon feels a little light. Most people would be irritated with him by now, would have left Taekwoon and his limited vocabulary; left Taekwoon alone with his fake bruises and unused paintbrushes.
Taekwoon has begun to wonder whether the six months of pestering was a surety of Jaehwan continuing to stay, or just an expiration date impending. The thought of the latter scares Taekwoon more than he thinks it would, so all he does is quickly strip and head to the shower room, hoping the scalding water would burn away the anxiety.
🌹
Taekwoon sits on a lone bench, wearing a button shirt too tight at the wrists and suffocating around the neck. He sits in the middle of an art gallery, staring ahead at a collection of portraits painted from the perspective of technology. The only one that really stood out to him was the one of Jaehwan, an oil piece of him smiling widely as he takes a picture of himself, the screen illuminating his face.
Jaehwan, one of the few reasons Taekwoon has had to leave his studio. Even if it meant supporting his other artist friend, who evidently had more artistic motivation in the span of a year than Taekwoon will ever have in his whole life.Taekwoon uses every fibre in his body not to sigh out the bitterness, envious was hardly his worst trait but even still, he promised Jaehwan he’d try. Try what, he still wasn’t sure, but Taekwoon thinks it means not look at everything as if he’d wish death upon it.
“What’s your favourite?” Jaehwan whispers as he sits beside Taekwoon with an untouched cup of champagne in his hand. Taekwoon smells the scent of cologne and sniffs. It didn’t suit him, but neither did the over-sized suit he was wearing. It still made Taekwoon smile a little though.
Taekwoon looks up at the collage of paintings and points. He sees Jaehwan perk up a little and then shifts his finger. “The one of the girl, at the computer screen.” It was the piece right beside Jaehwan’s.
Jaehwan grumbles unintelligently and takes a sip from his glass before grimacing. “This is gross. What is this?”
“Alcohol?”
Jaehwan rolls his eyes, “Yeah, thanks.”
Taekwoon takes the glass from him. He stares at the edge of it for a moment before putting it to his lips. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not very good alcohol.” Taekwoon remarks with a lick of his lips and settles the glass between the two of them.
“You drink?” Jaehwan asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.
“Sometimes.”
“Six months...and still a man of little words,” Jaehwan ponders with a smile but the lack of tone in his voice meant he hadn’t said it lightly. Taekwoon doesn’t know what to take of it; he doesn’t know what to take of Jaehwan. So he simply grabs the glass of champagne again, and swallows down the rest.
“Jaehwan?” Someone else slides in, and Taekwoon looks up at the stranger and instantly knows he doesn't like her. Then again, does Taekwoon like anyone?
“Ah, Wheein,” Jaehwan quickly jumps up and puts his hand on the small of her back, an action Taekwoon hardly failed to notice. “This is Taekwoon, the friend I mentioned. Taekwoon this is Wheein, the gallery’s artist.”
Taekwoon could hardly hold back the grimace on his face, and he wasn’t going to try to hide it. If anything he’d just wish they’d brush it off as a natural phenomena since his face was hardly adapted for smiling anyway. Jaehwan’s face twitches though, that kind of twitch when he notices something but tries as hard as he can to hide it.
“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Wheein smiles and holds out a hand.
Taekwoon is reluctant but he still found the ability to offer his hand and shake hers. “Nice to meet you too,” Taekwoon grits between his teeth.
Wheein laughs, “Don’t worry, don’t be so tense. I’m not going to ask what you think of it all...I know that’s probably one of the most annoying questions ever.”
Taekwoon simply nods and shifts away back to the small portrait of Jaehwan. He likes it, the kind of smile Jaehwan makes when he’s feeling shy, smile wrinkles folding because of the tension in his face. Taekwoon found it...cute.
“Do you know how hard it was to get him to do it?” Wheein trespasses, her voice trampling all over the nerve calming thoughts Taekwoon had flowing around in his head. “He hates taking selca’s so bad, I had to have Hakyeon behind for a good two hours trying to get him to smile naturally.”
Taekwoon doesn’t know what surprises him more: the fact that Jaehwan had a hard time smiling or the fact he had a life outside of Taekwoon’s studio. It wasn’t like Jaehwan was constantly holed up along with Taekwoon in his own personal prison, but somehow all Taekwoon can remember when he’s not attempting to paint is the sound of Jaehwan sleeping.
“Hey, you alright?” Jaehwan urgently whispers to Taekwoon after shuffling the two of them away into a desolate corner. “I know you don’t like things like these, I just thought-”
“It’s fine,” Taekwoon murmurs, suddenly too preoccupied with how close Jaehwan was leaning in. He decides to revel in it, bending over Jaehwan slightly while the scent of his cologne overpowering the sweet smell of his shampoo that Taekwoon likes so much.”You should probably not wear that cologne again.” Taekwoon says lowly and leans back, his hands trembling ever so slightly.
Jaehwan’s eyebrows furrow as he takes his cuffs to his nose and audibly sniffs, “It was a gift I never opened till tonight, is it that bad?”
“It’s not...bad, it just doesn’t suit you?” Taekwoon comments with a tilt of his head.
Jaehwan slowly puts his hands down and grins, “You think about that kind of stuff?”
“What?”
“No, I’m just kind of surprised is all,” Jaehwan laughs consciously, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t think you were someone to notice things like that.”
“You mean notice you? You’ve been around me for a while, Jaehwan.”
“Yes, half a year and yet this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” Jaehwan scoffs.
“Was that bitterness?” Taekwoon drawls with a lick of his lips. “Didn’t think you were capable of that.”
“Didn’t think you were capable of saying more than two words, so we’re both surprised today.” Jaehwan chuckles and looks up at Taekwoon only to sigh. “How’s the art coming along?”
This was where the light feeling dissipates within Taekwoon. Suddenly reality hits too hard and all he’s left thinking standing in a sea of miracles and paint is the fact that all that’s waiting for him at home is the same white canvas he has kept recreating over the past few weeks again, and again.
“As usual,” Taekwoon hoarsely says. “I think I’m going to leave now.”
“Wait, what-” Jaehwan seems dumbstruck but Taekwoon doesn’t stay long enough to appease his confusion. Taekwoon simply gives into the voice that has been crying for the exit for the past hour, and somehow he can’t believe how fast his legs move.
He’s glad night has come by the time he leaves the gallery. There was always something about the sun that made Taekwoon so unwilling to move. Something so bright against something so dull and hollow as Taekwoon felt made him want to shrivel up in his bed and turn into dust.
His steps eventually slow down as he makes it further and further from the gallery and Taekwoon doesn’t know where he’s going among the pounding footsteps of passersby, and blaring horns of the cars. Everything is too loud.
Why is everything always so loud?
🌹
“Are you not eating properly?” Taekwoon’s mother’s worried voice buzzes through the phone. He could hear cars honking in the background.
“I’m...I’m eating fine,” Taekwoon sighs over a warm bowl of ramen barely touched by anything but his chopsticks swirling around in the soup. “Are you out right now?”
“Ah, yeah I’ve got called into work on an emergency,” She says.
“It’s eleven in the evening,” Taekwoon frowns, eyeing the clock that is ten minutes back.
“Well, you know A&E- look I’ve got to go, okay?”
“Hm…bye,” Taekwoon had barely said ten words to her, but then again she was never one to converse. Life always seems to pull her too fast for Taekwoon to catch up to for even a breath.
“Taekwoon, are you okay?”
Taekwoon blinks, thrown off by the question. “I’m fine, mum.” He pathetically mumbles, and he’s not entirely sure if he wants her to catch him for his lie.
“...okay, honey, I love you.” And she hangs up. Leaving her only son with the feeling that even if he had replied with the opposite answer, she’d manage to find a way to brush it off. His mother undoubtedly was too good with the science of humans, but people were not her forte. Maybe that’s where Taekwoon got it from.
Taekwoon eventually decides he doesn’t want his ramen and leaves it on the island by his open kitchen as he makes his way towards the sofa. There’s nothing but the sound of the insistent clicking of the clock that is ten minutes late and Taekwoon wonders why he hasn’t fixed it yet. He’d noticed it when he first moved in. Jaehwan had pointed it out and Taekwon had said he’d change it eventually. Six months later and Taekwoon still can’t seem to find the will to fix it, to make it right.
A knock comes then, the kind of light, chirpy knock Taekwoon’s ears has become all too accustomed to. Jaehwan. He quickly jumps off the sofa and trips his way to the front door, not very conscious of the fact he was in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt.
“Taekwoon, good you’re awake!” Jaehwan grins and shuffles his way through the crack in the door Taekwoon made. “I wasn’t sure whether you were asleep or painting, but it seems I got you at a good time.”
Taekwoon licks his lips and shuts the door quietly. He’s suddenly filled with a sense of relief. He had been scared that he had made things too akward at the gallery the other night and that Jaehwan might not feel comfortable anymore. But it wouldn’t be Jaehwan if he let something like that get in between them. Then again, Taekwoon wasn’t sure what was between them.
“I brought chicken!” Jaehwan declares from the kitchen, or what Taekwoon attempted into making into a kitchen. It was a work counter before with a sink, but he eventually brought- no, eventually Jaehwan brought in the mini fridge and the portable cooker. Now that Taekwoon thought about it, Jaehwan had also brought in the tattered sofa and the stools. Taekwoon hadn’t realised just how much this place belonged to him as much as it did Taekwoon.
Taekwoon follows him silently towards the island and settles onto a stool. He places a head into his hand and watches Jaehwan throw away the ramen and get out a set of old and chipped plates. “The ramen was cold so I’m assuming you haven’t eaten?” Jaehwan guesses as he reaches out for the cups. Taekwoon eyes the tiny bit of flesh that exposes itself just above his boxers band when he stretches high.
“Hmmm,” Is all Taekwoon says, watching Jaehwan’s fingers as he rustles with the plastic bag and pulls out the boxes. “Why are you here?” suddenly slips from Taekwoon’s lips and he notices Jaehwan’s hands freeze.
“Why? Have I ever needed a reason?” Jaehwan chuckles, but it’s a nervous one. Taekwoon could hardly miss the tremor in his voice. So he lets it go, the last thing he wanted was more uncomfort.
“Didn’t you bring too much food?” Taekwoon notes, watching Jaehwan pull out a neverending series of take-out boxes.
“Have you seen how skinny you are?” Jaehwan squeaks and goes to tug on the sleeve of Taekwoon’s t-shirt. “You’re a walking scarecrow, we need to fill you up.” He jokes and goes to grab another stool to settle on.
Taekwoon picks at the chicken, peeling the skin and then nibbling on the edges. It tastes of rubber and he has a hard time swallowing it down so he just picks, and picks, and picks.
“Taekwoon, are you okay?” Jaehwan asks, his cheeks puffy and full with meat, and Taekwoon smiles, a little, but he smiles.
“I’m fine. Why?” He says and bites into a leg, trying to hold his face together as he swallows it down.
“Nothing, I was just worried. We left each other pretty badly the other day. I just hoped...I didn’t upset you or anything,” Jaehwan trails off, his face contorted into worry despite the smile he was trying so hard to keep up.
“You didn’t, I’m just not very good at public things,” Taekwoon explains, eyeing the pathetic bones limp on his plate. He grabs the cup of water beside him and swallows its entirety down.
“I guess I over stepped my boundaries,” Jaehwan groans, his lips trembling a little as he also goes to take a sip of water. “I just thought you’d like to go outside once in a while. I know you’re having a hard time here.”
Taekwoon doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he doesn’t, but he can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the thought of Jaehwan thinking about him, worrying about him, helping him. But then he remembers why, he remembers that Jaehwan is nothing but a spokesperson for his mother, for his professor, for people outside this studio that are curious or just sick of Taekwoon.
And Taekwoon is sick. He’s sick of never getting what he wants, not even understanding what he wants.
“Do you not like the chicken?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” Jaehwan says with a mouth stuffed and a shake of his head.
“I just don’t have much of an appetite,” Taekwoon says. “Thank you though.”
Jaehwan grins widely, and Taekwoon feels the ache in his chest dull just a little. “No problem, more for me anyway.” He mumbles, chewing grotesquely.
Taekwoon settles his mutilated chicken leg down onto his plate, the tiny smile on his face never leaving even as he attempts to focus more on the scattered bones before him rather than on Jaehwan.
Taekwoon was all too aware of this feeling, the lightness, the dull ache. He doesn’t remember when it started, and he doesn’t know when it’ll end, end in a million tiny pieces. Pieces Taekwoon has only tried to mend time and time again.
But he secretly hopes Jaehwan will be different, but Taekwoon always hopes, and that’s why the pieces never really stay together.
🌹
Taekwoon stares at the entrance of his apartment building. For once he’s on the inside looking out. It’s a bright day, not a cloud in the sky, unfortunately. Sure that meant that Taekwoon needn’t have to wear anything more than a pair of jeans and a loose jumper, but that also meant there were going to be loads of people on the streets.
Taekwoon rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs as he takes the first step out. The convenience store wasn’t far but every step he took felt heavy as if he were carrying several bags of rice on his back.
Rain was good weather. Rain meant hiding underneath an umbrella; it meant less people outside. Rain comes with darkness and grey and everyone seems to be in their own little bubble. The sun meant pleasantries, people smiling and talking, walking in groups. It made Taekwoon uncomfortable.
But he had run out of toothpaste, toilet paper, shampoo and body wash. His toothbrush was so tattered up it resembled his paint brushes. Evidently Taekwoon had run out of excuses not to go out first thing in the morning. What made him even more reluctant is the fact his studio is basically next door to the university campus, which meant chances of him bumping into people he didn’t want to bump into were high.
Although Taekwoon was able to go days without a shower, the paint he inhaled on a daily basis clung to his skin. He could hardly go without using the bathroom and brushing his teeth. With a grumble he huffs and mumbles under his breath, tapping his foot rigorously waiting for the green man to show at the crossing, the convenience store but ten feet away from him. The second the light changes he shoots by the still slowing down cars and dives into the store. He’d made it this far, he could do the rest.
Finding everything was easy, this was the only store Taekwoon ever used; it had the bare necessities, and that’s what Taekwoon survived off. A large portion of his money was spent on art supplies, so forfeiting a real meal for ramen was a common occurrence. After all, Taekwoon didn’t really have anything but his art, even if that was dwindling.
Taekwoon thinks he’s made it well enough. He’s paid for his stuff and is about to head back to the studio, but nothing ever goes so smoothly. Not for Taekwoon.
“Taekwoon?” A familiar voices shouts out, and Taekwoon reluctantly turns around to find Hakyeon waving his hand in the air. Even more unfortunate, he isn’t alone. “Oh my god, it’s been ages!” Hakyeon laughs and goes to throw an arm around Taekwoon’s shoulders.
The rest of Hakyeon’s friends nod at Taekwoon and then huddle into their own private group as Hakyeon begins his torture session.
“Good to see you too,” Taekwoon mumbles, attempting extremely hard not to sigh.
It isn’t that Taekwoon doesn’t like Hakyeon, it’s just that they were on completely different ends of the spectrum. Hakyeon likes involving people, talking, and being friendly, and Taekwoon….doesn’t.
“Haven’t seen you on campus lately, everything cool?” Hakyeon lowers his voice and slides away from Taekwoon, a hand lingering on his shoulder. The thing about Hakyeon was that he was actually rather similar to Taekwoon, but when Taekwoon hides behind his paintings and loneliness, while Hakyeon hides behind a smile and noise, an incredible amount noise.
That’s why Taekwoon feels like he can never really shrug Hakyeon off because although in front of others Hakyeon is obnoxious and particularly annoying, on the rare occasions Taekwoon see’s him, he seems to adjust, to quiet down, as if he too felt a similarity between the two.
“I’m good, thanks,” Taekwoon replies softly, his eyes quick to meet Hakyeon’s for moment until they drop to the floor again.
“Jaehwan says you’ve been working hard,” Hakyeon says, crossing his arms across his chest. “We going to see a gallery soon?”
A small smile forms on Taekwoon’s face, “Ah...uh probably not very soon.”
“Not even before graduation?”
“I...I don’t know-”
“Ah, I get it!” Hakyeon waves his hands. “I get it, sorry I pressed the issue. I heard you went to Wheein’s gallery, does that mean you’ve become more willing to public events?”
No. “Maybe.”
Hakyeon looks at Taekwoon as if he read between the lines and nods. “Well, there’s a party. A small gathering, not a lot of people, I promise. Jaehwan’s been thinking of asking you to come but he’s worried you’ll say no. You didn’t hear it from me, okay?”
“Is there a reason for it?”
Hakyeon looks at Taekwoon and smiles thinly, “Jaehwan’s birthday.”
Taekwoon was thrown off, it wasn’t as if he spoke with Jaehwan about personal things but somehow he thought he’d know something like a birthday. “Ah…” Is all that pathetically comes out of Taekwoon’s mouth, and he’s silently glad Hakyeon is blocking whatever kind of faltering expression is on Taekwoon’s face.
“It’s cool, it’s cool!” Hakyeon loudly shouts out, and throws both hands onto Taekwoon’s shoulders. “Now you know, and of course you’re invited. It’s at the campus’ dorm lounge, Friday night, okay?”
Taekwoon licks his lips and nods, not entirely sure where to place the unusual sense of comfort. Eventually Hakyeon leaves with his friends, and despite the fake greetings and fake laughter, Taekwoon settles down fine with Hakyeon’s sly smile. Hakyeon was kind, if only Taekwoon was more willing to kindness.
>> part 2