Work Text:
Jaeyoon's left leg was draped carelessly over his right. A bowl of popcorn was nestled into his lap. His eyes were focused. His notebook was open beside him, his pencil placed randomly atop it. His hair was tucked into a grey hoodie-- the only slight splash of color to him besides black and white and baby pink lips. His lips quirked into a smile after about an hour-- when he noticed Inseong looking and, careful not to move his position much, asked, "Are you drawing me again?"
"I'm almost done." Inseong said. Jaeyoon was careful not to move-- though he didn't need to be so careful. He didn't need to consider it at all, in fact. Inseong was good at taking mental pictures-- memorizing a certain position or expression for some hours and he sketched it on paper. Inseong added the finishing touches to his picture, adding to a total of five minutes-- in which Jaeyoon patiently ate the last of his popcorn and didn't move in the slightest otherwise. Inseong slid off the windowsill when he was done, and moved to sit next to Jaeyoon. Jaeyoon didn't mind that Inseong had squeezed into a small space-- hardly moved, accustom to Inseong being so close. He admired the drawing with a hum, and the last of his popcorn on his tongue.
"I was thinking about giving it to the MCs as a gift, for inviting us to their radio show." Inseong said, finding an area of the drawing that hadn't been properly shaded and making the appropriate adjustments. He looked to Jaeyoon after he said it-- just a quick glance before he focused on the unshaded area of Jaeyoon's jaw, and asked, "Unless you want it?"
"It's okay. Are you sure you want to give them a drawing of me at home, though? I mean-- I'm going as a model, and I don't look very model-like, currently." Jaeyoon said. Inseong would disagree, except he remembered how much make-up Jaeyoon had to wear and how complex his poses as a model were, and how uncomfortable he (subtly) complained about the clothes being-- in order for them to look so nice-- and he supposed Jaeyoon was right. He didn't look very model-like, currently; but "You're more beautiful than models, anyway."
"I am a model," Jaeyoon reminded, knocking Inseong's arm when he had a chance-- when Inseong had taken his pencil far enough away from the paper that there was no risk in him drawing a line through the page, or screwing up his shading. The line wouldn't have been ill-received; but Inseong's lines were very calculated, not drawn at random.
(Inseong remembered his mother telling him he'd ruined a drawing of his puppy when he drew thick, black lines through it; but he also remembered how much he personally loved his art style, and how difficult it was to learn to love it again after it had been so heavily criticized. It's not like the lines were randomly placed or angled. He looked for the least important parts of the picture-- like the smooth area of Jaeyoon's legs where his pants weren't wrinkled up by the bend of his knee, and the smooth area of white beneath the scar on his shoelace. He cut through a small centimeter of Jaeyoon's dangling necklace, but made sure to keep his collar bone untouched. He cut through a large area of Jaeyoon's face, but made sure the excited gleam in his eye was visible. He slowly wrote the date, 05/01/18, and drew his name-- small and calculated-- along one of the lines across Jaeyoon's stomach, and he-- as well as Jaeyoon-- was satisfied with his artwork when he was done.)
"We should get going. I have to get painted up a bit before we meet the MCs. Do you want to come with me? I know I'm going early," Jaeyoon said. He talked as he walked-- to the kitchen with his bowl, back into the room with his coat. Inseong nodded, "I'll come with. Let me grab my shoes;" and Inseong was ready in two minutes-- ran upstairs, grabbed his shoes, and came back downstairs with his coat, too. Jaeyoon looked at him, and pouted his bottom lip, "I'm jealous of you," and Inseong wondered, "Why?" with an already-flattered smile. Jaeyoon told him, "You look effortlessly good all the time--and I need loads of stylists to make me look good," and Inseong completely disagreed, but Jaeyoon was rushing him-- "Speaking of stylists-- we're going to be late--" and Jaeyoon's fingers threading through Inseong's made him a little breathless, so he didn't have a chance to say anything.
Lee Sanghyuk and Kang Chanhee were looking down at a candy Chanhee had in his hands, was unwrapping. Chanhee had headphones on; Dawon's were on the table in front of him, on top of the drawing Inseong had given them. Chanhee had a blank expression on his face, while Dawon was looking at the candy with a curiosity about his eyebrows that suggested he didn't know what it was, or at the very least hadn't tried it before. In a moment, Chanhee would feed Dawon the candy, and a pleased expression would cross Dawon's face-- he liked the candy-- but in the little sketch Inseong had drawn, that moment was not captured.
Inseong allowed his sketchbook to sit open on the floor while he was being interviewed. He was nervous-- first time being interviewed on any type of media-- but Jaeyoon was right beside him. At the end, Inseong gathered his sketchbook, turned over the page painted by Dawon and Chanhee, and wrote on the back while he was in the car, on the way home (with a sleeping Jaeyoon on his shoulder):
"We're back! It's Dawon--"
"--and Chani!"
"--with artist Kim Inseong and model Lee Jaeyoon. You're listening to Ink Arts Radio-- we're continuing with questions from fans. Park Junhee asks: how does it feel to be the youngest members at Ink Arts? Jaeyoon, we'll start with you-- how does it feel to be the youngest model at Ink Arts?"
"It's amazing! I get a lot of advantages being a young model in the industry-- like being paired with my best friend for paintings."
"You and Inseong are close?"
"Extremely. We're partners at Ink Arts, and roommates outside of work."
"It doesn't get bothersome, seeing each other all the time?" (laughter)
"No, not at all. I love being around Inseong-hyung all the time."
In the corner, he wrote the date: 06/01/18.
Inseong admired the moment, and flipped the page over again-- and closed the book entirely, hiding the moment from Jaeyoon's sleeping eyes. One day, and perhaps one day soon, Inseong would have the courage to tell Jaeyoon why moments like that meant so much to him.
The mountains were blue. The sky was green. The colors were wrong but the feeling was right; Inseong related to the way the world was flipped around-- the way everything was backwards and unfamiliar. 09/01/18. Inseong stretched his legs and arms out; he put his colored pencils down and leaned his head back. He missed Jaeyoon.
"Inseong-hyung! There you are." Inseong looked to see Taeyang coming towards him, the door to the roof sliding closed behind him. Inseong swung his legs off the ledge and prepared himself to either lean forward and listen or stand up and go somewhere. Taeyang told him, "Youngbin wants to see you," which made Inseong a little nervous-- Youngbin never wanted to see anyone unless something was wrong (or, unless he came to them).
"Thanks, Taeyang," Inseong said. Taeyang nodded; and then he was off. He looked rather dressed up-- Inseong assumed he had a shoot to do, or that Inseong might be called down to paint him soon. Inseong still didn't know who his new partner was-- or if he would get one at all. Inseong had a feeling he might not get a new one; he had a feeling, as he slowly dragged his feet, sketchbook and pencils tucked under his arm, that he may never step foot into the building again.
Inseong carefully knocked on Youngbin's door and waited to be told he could come in. It only took a moment; Youngbin's gentle voice called "Come in!" and Inseong followed the command. Youngbin looked up from his papers. He smiled at Inseong-- a gentle smile on a gentle face but Inseong doubted he had gentle news. Youngbin told him, "Please, have a seat," and Inseong, again, followed his command.
Inseong tucked his sketchbook and his pencils onto his lap and waited. He knew Youngbin wouldn't be mean about it-- first of all, there wasn't a mean bone in his body, but he was also a very close friend of Inseong's-- granted, only through work, but their type of close was close enough. Youngbin dug through some papers for a moment, and Inseong felt the dread. He was going to be fired; he was going to have to fill out paperwork for it or something; he--
was completely wrong. A picture was set in front of him. Inseong knew the man in the photograph; it was Kim Seokwoo, known as Rowoon through the company. He was a model there; Youngbin told him, "This is your new partner. The two of you will have your first interaction on Thursday."
Two days from now. Inseong picked up the photograph, a sigh coming off of his shoulders-- relief, "O-oh."
"What's wrong? You don't like him?" Youngbin asked. His voice suggested he was fully prepared to switch partners should Inseong show any further sign of discontent-- but Inseong was quick to clear up the misunderstanding, "No--no, that's not it. I just... kind of thought you were going to fire me, right now."
"Fire you? Why would I fire you? You're our best-- and only-- artist in the company." Youngbin said. He folded his hands on the desk, "You're extremely hard-working, Inseong. I don't think I'd ever let you go."
"Well, I just... I worked best with Jaeyoon, so..." Inseong stopped there. Youngbin was silent for a moment-- worried expression that Inseong only noticed from his peripheral. Youngbin eventually spoke, "Inseong, can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Why am I assigning you a new partner?" Youngbin asked. Inseong looked at him; he didn't understand the question. A moment ago, he'd been wondering the same thing--but Youngbin had cleared that up for him. Youngbin elaborated, "You and Jaeyoon worked extremely well together-- I'm just wondering why he insisted on having a new partner. Did something happen between the two of you? Should I be worried?"
"Well...." Inseong didn't really know what to say, didn't know how to explain the situation. Rather, he didn't want to explain the situation. It had gone over badly enough with Jaeyoon; he didn't want the news to go over badly with Youngbin, too. He lost one friend; he didn't want to lose another.
"It's a long story, hyung." Inseong said. Youngbin gestured to his door-- "You're in a secure place. Inseong, something's clearly going on-- you and Jaeyoon are inseparable. I know I'm your boss but we are friends, too. You can tell me."
Inseong broke down--very quickly, very (almost) out of nowhere. Youngbin handed him a box of tissues and asked if he needed a hug; Inseong blew his nose and spilled his whole story on one breath, "I-I'm gay, hyung," and the floodgates burst again, and he buried his face in his hands and sobbed for three minutes. Youngbin handed him a water bottle when he could breathe again.
"I should introduce you to my fiance," Youngbin said softly, with a chuckle in his voice. Inseong rubbed his tears away with a tissue, blew his nose again, and asked, "Why? Does she cry a lot?"
"No." Youngbin said. He rolled his chair back so he could easily open a drawer in his desk. He muttered, "Let me show you," as he dug through some papers. He pulled out a frame, and smiled briefly at it before turning it around, showing it to Inseong. Inseong gasped, his hands slowly taking the picture from Youngbin's grip, "You--"
"I'm gay as well, Inseong." Youngbin said. Youngbin and his fiance were beautiful-- smiling for the camera as they relaxed at home together. Inseong was painfully reminded of how he and Jaeyoon used to be-- just a few days ago, how he'd squeezed into a spot on the couch after drawing Jaeyoon-- how they held hands on the way to the radio show. He was reminded of all the moments they shared before that-- the years of building up to the kind of relationship they had-- and it was so strong, and so precious to Inseong. If there was anything Inseong felt like he did right, it was loving Jaeyoon.
(He wished he hadn't messed that up.)
white space.
Inseong sat alone in the studio with an empty page in front of him, and couldn't think of anything to draw. He couldn't imagine drawing anything, actually. He could think-- draw an apple. Draw a coyote. Draw Park Jinyoung -- but he couldn't bring his pencil to paper, and he couldn't start. He could only tilt his head back and think-- think of a conversation he'd had with Jaeyoon, a simple thing he'd done that had torn their friendship apart in seconds. (He turned over the black page, and briefly wrote an excerpt of the event:)
I kissed Jaeyoon. I shouldn't have, but I did. I did that instead of telling him that I loved him, or anything that would have been more practical. Jaeyoon looked at me for a minute, and ran off. I was terrified. He won't talk to me. He won't even look at me. He hates being in the same room as me. I asked him if he hated me, but he didn't say anything. I heard him talking to his mother about the fact that I was gay--that's what he took from it. I'm gay. I don't think he likes that.
10/01/18.
(Inseong couldn't think of anything to draw for hours. He went home with a heavy heart, but remembered that tomorrow was his first day with his new partner at the company, and that, tomorrow, he had to draw-- so at least he knew his creativity wouldn't go to waste quite yet.)
Rowoon was sitting on a stool. His right leg was crossed over his left; his legs were camouflaged by baggy pants-- black and grey, unlike the traditional army green colors. His boots were black, and reached just above his ankle. His shirt was a dark, dark blue-- so dark, in fact, that it went perfectly with the outfit, almost blending into the black of his pants. His belt was white, as was the choker around his neck. The glitter between his eyelashes and eyebrows matched the pretty silver star hanging off his choker, perfectly in line with his collar bones. The blush on his cheeks contrasted the outfit entirely, as well as the brown of his freckles-- but everything fell into place perfectly (just the right amount of contrast to please an artist).
The black and silver of his nails served to draw attention to his lower half and his face, making for a perfect center point as he cradled a book in his hands. The book made his pretty eye shadow so visible-- with his eyes trained on it, they caught the artist's eyes perfectly. The title of the book was slightly hidden by the angle at which Rowoon held it, but the book didn't matter. It was obviously dramatic, if the raise of Rowoon's eyebrow and the slight shock of his parted lips was anything to go by. It was curious-- his expression, and the book. It made his shoulders square and the viewers curious.
Inseong was proud of himself, for capturing the beauty of Rowoon's look. Rowoon, too, admired the painting-- awed at the attention to detail. He complimented Inseong, with a hand on his shoulder, as he wiped the glitter from his eyes with a wet cloth, "It's really beautiful, hyung-- like always."
"Thanks," Inseong said softly. He nearly reached to place his hand on his shoulder as well, his loneliness capturing the best of his thought process, but Rowoon pulled his hand away to point at his painted pants, "You even put the wrinkles in there! How do you paint so realistically, hyung?"
"I don't know. Practice, I guess," and Inseong shrugged, which would have discouraged Rowoon's hand if it wasn't already gone. How are your works so realistic? was a question Inseong received a lot, but never knew how to answer. Inseong had studied art a lot, and he supposed it simply paid off. He'd had his ups and his downs-- his cartoon-ish works and his sloppy drawings. He wasn't sure how exactly he'd come this far, he just knew that he had.
Rowoon was called away before either man could say anything further, leaving Inseong to study his painting for some moments more, wondering if there was anything he could add, or any areas he could embellish. He decided there was nothing more he wanted to do, and picked up a pen to gently date the picture, 11/01/18, and sign his name across the bottom. The end of his signature nearly touched Rowoon's leg, but there was a subtle millimeter between the black of his signature and the black of Rowoon's pants. Inseong's obsession with lines was satisfied with the difference.
Juho and Youngbin were holding hands. (Inseong and Jaeyoon used to hold hands.) They were in the hallway alone-- they thought-- and their fingers were perfectly intertwined. Youngbin was looking down; his phone was in his free hand. Juho's eyes were wandering, but his lips were occupied by a straw-- dark coffee flowing through, a drop of which painted the corner of his mouth. He licked it off a second later, but Inseong's snapshot of their moment didn't clarify that.
Inseong added the date to the corner of the picture, 15/01/18, and the finishing touches to the drawing after that-- dark, dark lines. He scratched little clouds above Juho and Youngbin's intertwined fingers to protect them, painfully remembering how unaccepted their love was. He recalled the end of the conversation he'd had with Youngbin a while ago, in which he learned of Youngbin's fiance, and, after letting the ink dry in the open air, flipped the page, and began to write out their words:
"Juho and I are getting married soon." (Because Youngbin had shown him the ring, Inseong sketched a quick picture of his hand next to the words, drawing an arrow to the ring on his finger to emphasize it.)
"Really? H-how?"
"Well, we're going to have to move to America. We're studying English together now, but we heard there are a lot of Koreans in California, so as soon as we feel comfortable we'll move there. It will take a long time to earn our citizenship, but we're determined."
"That's beautiful.... What about the company?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll still own it, I'll just have someone else manage it while I'm not here. We're not going to live in America until we get married, which won't be for a long time. I'll probably open another building out there, after Juho and I settle."
"That's amazing. Good luck."
"Thank you, Inseong."
Inseong looked back at his drawing and found himself thankful that their love worked out so beautifully; and though his jealous heart wished his love, too, could work out like theirs, he was still so, so thankful that they were beating the odds. Someone had to.
Jaeyoon was sitting on the couch. His hands were tucked into the pocket of his hoodie-- resting softly against his stomach. The hoodie was black; Inseong made sure to shade it darkly with his pen. His pants were grey, and hung nicely away from his legs. His socks were also black. His hair was newly black-- a step away from the brown it had almost always been. Inseong wanted to compliment him on it, but Jaeyoon was still so distant. He still avoided Inseong every chance he got. Inseong was still unfathomably hurt by it.
Jaeyoon was unaware of Inseong. He was watching a program on television that he'd come to love recently-- binge-watching for hours while Inseong camped on the open window between the living room and the kitchen. It was a blind spot to Jaeyoon, but Inseong could see him perfectly. He drew a border around his completed sketch of Jaeyoon-- an outline of black, and carefully printed My Love along the line bordering his shoulder, the way he always did. He blew gently along the picture, making sure the ink dried, and set it on the counter to dry further. He skipped adding his lines, this time. He drew the date into the corner: 17/02/18. (He had gone so long without Jaeyoon.) He slid from the window and landed at the base of the stairs, and quietly climbed them to make his way back to his room.
Inseong stretched for a few moments when he was alone. He rolled his wrist, finding it tired from holding the weight of a pen for hours as he drew. His shoulders felt relaxed when he was finished stretching them out; his entire body felt relaxed when he lay down. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let his mind run wild again. Inseong spent most of his day being creative, pulling ideas from the depth of his mind-- only rarely from external inspirations. It was at home that he let himself face reality, despite how dark reality looked for him, now.
Jaeyoon still wouldn't speak to Inseong-- was still upset with him. Inseong wished Jaeyoon wouldn't take up so much of his mind, but he understood why he did. He understood why he couldn't focus on drawing; he understood why the drawing of Jaeyoon he'd just completed was the only drawing he'd been able to complete-- or even start-- in weeks. Jaeyoon was his best friend-- always had been, and Inseong had been confident that he always would be. Jaeyoon was everything to him-- a friend, a brother, his model at Ink Arts. They were partners in every way except a romantic one--and Inseong supposed that had been his mistake. He'd tried to overstep that boundary, and he shouldn't have. Now, Jaeyoon was upset--or uncomfortable, rather. Put-off, perhaps, was a good phrase, too. Inseong didn't really know what to call it-- didn't even really know how Jaeyoon felt, because Jaeyoon wouldn't talk to him.
Inseong waited another five minutes in silence before he went downstairs to collect his sketchbook. It wasn't on the counter, where Inseong had left it; rather, it was on the opposite counter. Jaeyoon must have seen it; he must have picked it up, and looked at it, and left it on the other counter when he left the room. Inseong almost wanted to find him-- whether he was still in the living room or in his room now, Inseong didn't know. Maybe he left. Inseong wanted to seek him out, call him, confront him about his feelings and tell him please, just forgive me, but he respected Jaeyoon enough to know that he needed space. He would make the first move if he wanted to; he would leave if he wanted to. Inseong didn't have any desire to control him; he didn't have any desire to make him further upset, or uncomfortable, or any more of whatever he was feeling. He just hoped, one day, Jaeyoon would forgive him.
Inseong flipped through his sketchbook. It was nearly full; one more drawing, and it would be complete. His most recent drawing of Jaeyoon wasn't dated; he'd forgotten to earlier. Luckily, the day had yet to change-- it was 22:43, and Inseong checked his phone to see the date. 17/02/18. Inseong flipped to the back of the sketch and wondered if he should write something-- maybe how he was feeling, or how he imagined Jaeyoon felt, when a soft knock sounded at his door.
Inseong didn't have to say anything. Jaeyoon carefully opened his door and peeked inside. They caught each other's eye, and stay like that for a moment-- Jaeyoon, just barely leaning into the room-- Inseong, frozen in his bed, with his sketchbook open on his lap. Jaeyoon asked, "Can I come in?" and Inseong nodded, too afraid to say anything. Jaeyoon stepped into the room and closed the door behind him; he walked to Inseong's bed and stood next to it for a moment. Inseong set his sketchbook aside.
"Can I lay with you?" Jaeyoon asked quietly. Inseong never thought he would experience a silence so quiet, in which he could audibly hear a whisper like that-- but, then again, everything had been pretty new recently. Inseong nodded, and scoot over a bit so Jaeyoon could climb into bed with him. For a moment, it was awkward-- something Inseong had never felt with Jaeyoon. The two tried their hardest not to touch, leaving them at opposite sides of the cramped bed. Jaeyoon was nearly hanging off of it, but he readjusted rather quickly. Their shoulders almost brushed, and Jaeyoon said "Come-- come here--" to which Inseong hesitated, but ultimately complied, laying down completely to mirror Jaeyoon's position. Jaeyoon slid himself over Inseong's arm, and Inseong was brave enough to hold his waist. Jaeyoon turned onto his side after a slight shift of his body. His hand was over Inseong's shoulder, now. His eyes were trained on Inseong's face. Inseong, in fear, did not look at him.
"You haven't talked to me." Jaeyoon said. Inseong almost wanted to be upset at the comment-- I haven't talked to you?-- but he wasn't. He told Jaeyoon, truthfully, "Well, you... seemed uncomfortable around me, so... I wanted to give you space."
"Thank you." Jaeyoon mentioned, tugging Inseong's collar for something to do. Inseong gulped softly-- nerves, and still did not look at Jaeyoon. Awkward silence fell between them again. Inseong had so much to say, but he was so afraid to say any of it. This was the first time in a while, after all, Jaeyoon had dared get close to him. Inseong didn't want to initiate anything-- even simple conversation-- that might scare him away.
"I'm really sorry." Jaeyoon said.... "I-I reacted really badly, and I shouldn't have. I knew... I knew something was happening between us-- and I was so okay with it until... until you kissed me."
Why? Inseong didn't need to ask, "I guess... it was so real in that moment, and I was terrified. It's just... I'm sure you know as well as I do that we live in such a close-minded society. I wish I would have just talked to you about it, but I called my mom to tell her what happened instead and-- hell, that just ruined me for a while--"
Inseong could already imagine what Jaeyoon's mother had said. Are you kidding me? You're disgusting! Why aren't you more like your brother? You're not my son! I never raised you like this! Don't come near this family again! I never want to hear your voice again! His mother had said the same.
"I was mad at you for a while. You're the person that made me realize... that I was capable of loving a man, but--" Jaeyoon sighed. "I was wrong. I was really wrong."
Jaeyoon's hand slowly found Inseong's under the sheets, and Inseong felt a bloom of warmth as Inseong's fingers captured his. They lay together peacefully beneath the bed; and Inseong almost wanted to cry. He'd missed Jaeyoon so much.
"I was thinking about it," Jaeyoon said. His other hand was on Inseong, too-- tracing little patterns into Inseong's bare collar, "I was thinking you didn't make me realize that I'm capable of loving a man-- you made me realize that I'm capable of love. I-I set aside all my prejudices for you-- even though it took a while, and... I feel great, you know? I love loving you, because... it's a great feeling."
Inseong felt the tears coming. He knew there was no stopping them. Jaeyoon added to the emotions, "I'm jumping in too fast-- I'm not the only one with strong feelings in this situation, hyung. Can you-- can you forgive me? Please?"
The whisper of please was the last little drop to break the floodgates, and Inseong lay an arm over his eyes before it broke. Jaeyoon sat up-- hand leaving Inseong's so he could rest his weight on that elbow-- other hand touching Inseong's shoulder, and face, lips asking, "Are you okay? Hyung, I-- I'm so sorry," but Inseong shook his head-- a gesture for Jaeyoon not to worry, to be quiet for a moment. Jaeyoon understood, and let Inseong cry out his emotions for a minute until he calmed himself down. Inseong looked at Jaeyoon in the end and laughed a little bit, told him "I missed you so damn much," and laughed when Jaeyoon did, and hugged him when Jaeyoon lay across his chest and happily snuggled against his neck. When Jaeyoon lay back, Inseong's touch did not chase him; when Jaeyoon leaned over suddenly and kissed him, Inseong reciprocated it. Jaeyoon had him by the collar; Inseong lifted his arm and held his elbow-- and they kissed for a long time, salty tears falling between their lips.
(Inseong fell asleep with Jaeyoon that night; and among his last thoughts before he fell asleep appeared this is why I love Jaeyoon-- because the open-minded, forgiving person in his arms was the person he fell completely in love with.)