Art
Title: Art
Author: jongmalai
Summary: Jonghyun is a photographer, and Taemin his masterpiece.
Warnings: uh, mentions of abuse. Character death.
Pairing: Nonexplicit JongTae
Genre: Creepy.
This is art, he says, and the look in his brown eyes is a little wild as the words leave his mouth.
This will add a little something to the shoot,
It’s all part of it, he says, winding a rope around thin wrists and there’s the ghost of trust on Taemin’s face.
Wide eyes are so innocent, so attractive.
So beautiful, he grins madly.
Taemin kneels on the floor.
Arms back a little bit, he says, snapping pictures of Taemin posing in a varsity sweatshirt. He’s too skinny for football, but.
It's breathtaking when he doesn't smile anymore.
Tears are valuable, like little chips of diamond, something Jonghyun hasn’t thought of before. Taemin is a photographic genius, the way he’s thrashing and screaming.
He knows exactly what to do.
His eyes are shut now, his chest rising and falling slowly; tired already?
Jonghyun sighs, snaps a few more photos.
The sleepwear hangs off of him like a skeleton, and he’s so so pale in the lights. Contrast is good technique;
The rope burns are beautiful.
The scene still needs something more, something more tangible than the odd bruise and the occasional scrape.
The scene needs reality, needs the touch only Jonghyun can lend it.
He sighs, finally settling back in his chair, breath coming heavily and a victorious smile stretching his lips.
It’s perfect, it’s his masterpiece, it’s red smeared across the sleepwear and the ropes frayed.
It’s art.
---
Ahahaha, JongTae is so creeperish I love it.
Author: jongmalai
Summary: Jonghyun is a photographer, and Taemin his masterpiece.
Warnings: uh, mentions of abuse. Character death.
Pairing: Nonexplicit JongTae
Genre: Creepy.
This is art, he says, and the look in his brown eyes is a little wild as the words leave his mouth.
This will add a little something to the shoot,
It’s all part of it, he says, winding a rope around thin wrists and there’s the ghost of trust on Taemin’s face.
Wide eyes are so innocent, so attractive.
So beautiful, he grins madly.
Taemin kneels on the floor.
Arms back a little bit, he says, snapping pictures of Taemin posing in a varsity sweatshirt. He’s too skinny for football, but.
It's breathtaking when he doesn't smile anymore.
Tears are valuable, like little chips of diamond, something Jonghyun hasn’t thought of before. Taemin is a photographic genius, the way he’s thrashing and screaming.
He knows exactly what to do.
His eyes are shut now, his chest rising and falling slowly; tired already?
Jonghyun sighs, snaps a few more photos.
The sleepwear hangs off of him like a skeleton, and he’s so so pale in the lights. Contrast is good technique;
The rope burns are beautiful.
The scene still needs something more, something more tangible than the odd bruise and the occasional scrape.
The scene needs reality, needs the touch only Jonghyun can lend it.
He sighs, finally settling back in his chair, breath coming heavily and a victorious smile stretching his lips.
It’s perfect, it’s his masterpiece, it’s red smeared across the sleepwear and the ropes frayed.
It’s art.
---
Ahahaha, JongTae is so creeperish I love it.