Work Text:
doyoung ran his hand through the frames of the covered paintings. stacks of dust piled in the abandoned room and only the portraits remained lively. he stopped on his tracks as he reminisced about the portrait that was better than the others, the one created by the painter’s own will.
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“if a memory is subjective, then pray tell, what separates it from a hallucination?” doyoung asked as he looked up to the man guiding his pose.
“another philosophical question?” the painter asked. “the answer varies on how the person sees the world. the answer lies on the person’s values.”
“then what are your values, johnny?” doyoung asked once more.
johnny took his time to answer, as he pondered, he guided doyoung’s chest towards him and delicately guided his face to look forward. every touch lingers more than its supposed to be but doyoung didn’t mind. johnny’s paint-ridden slender fingers were tiny kisses on doyoung’s skin.
as johnny went back to his easel, he spoke. “truth and endurance.”
“immortality?” doyoung chimed in.
“if i ever be so bold, yes,” johnny said. “i value immortality.”
“do you wish to last forever, johnny?”
johnny chuckled behind his tainted canvas. “i believe everyone lasts forever. don’t you think so?”
“i don’t,” doyoung said. “well, it’s tricky.”
“why do you think i’m painting you a portrait?” johnny asked.
“to immortalize your talent?” doyoung said. “is it done?”
johnny stole glances back and forth as he kept quiet, slowly working faster to show doyoung the result.
“why did you decide to make me a muse?” doyoung asked.
“it’s done,” johnny said, avoiding the question. “come look!”
slowly, doyoung descended from the chair and walked towards johnny. once he reached the canvas, he was greeted by a pale-skinned man with jet black hair and a wicked smile.
“is that me?” doyoung asked. “obviously,” he caught himself. “i know what i look like.”
johnny let out a chuckle before pulling doyoung close.
“i know what you are, doyoung. you don’t have to hide it. i see you every day, struggling to catch a glimpse of who you are through the ripples of the river, and through the foggy glass. i just painted your portrait because i know you haven’t seen yourself at all.”
“is this how you see me?” doyoung asked, still marvelling the portrait of himself in front of him.
“one of many ways, yes,” johnny said.
“and which version is this?”
“the one i wish to immortalize the most,” johnny said. “ironically, i don’t necessarily think you’re the one in need of endurance through time.”
“then i shall do something in return,” doyoung suggested, to which johnny disagreed.
“one could argue that the portrait is not just how well an artist could wield a brush, but it is also how an artist could articulate the emotion felt at that time,” johnny said.
he picked up his brush and added a few strokes of highlights.
“i am immortalized in this portrait. people could learn about me based on what they see,” he continued as he intentionally smudged the paint. “i am eternized as long as i am loved,” he said as he shifted his gaze towards doyoung.
with longing eyes that begged to be yearned for a lifetime, johnny trusted that as long as doyoung loves him, he will be forever.
---
doyoung admires the portrait everyday in commemoration of someone he once knew and continued to love.
what they didn’t know back then was that memories are more than just subjective. memories are what remains from time, yet like anything else, they deteriorate.
what once was a joyous memory of his lover painting a portrait now felt as a sorrowful regret, a lament that johnny trusted doyoung’s love too much that he never once questioned if doyoung could withstand time alone. doyoung rue the day that he believed that he loved the painter to a significant extent that it dismissed any thoughts of forgetting him.