Chapter Text
[Day 3]
Eyes flickered to meet his gaze from beyond the outline, a pencil held outright for a long pause before returning to its home as the sounds of soft scratching formed shapes and contours against the blank canvas. The warmth of the sunlight flitting through the windows landed against the fabric and skin of the individual sitting in place dressed him in a velvety halo, breathing a subtle life into his outline, the morning light filling in the crevices and folds of his clothes.
The gentle rise of his chest and those deep, dark eyes filled with mysterious wonder expressed a different kind of allure into the man who rested against the chair, a book in hand left half-open, a scarred hand thumbing the page.
Beneath the folds of the fabric which wrapped around his arms were hints of disorderly shapes, presented in an oddly uniform outline. Perhaps they were to hide other scars that were not on his hands, or perhaps they had a deeper meaning to its chaotic mess. The man who bore these tattoos never offered an explanation, nor did the artist question and probe for answers.
Today, the artist learned of another tattoo that graced his model.
The pencil stilled in its action before resuming to complete the sketch with a renewed vigour. The artist internally shook his head at himself for being momentarily distracted, lost in his empty thoughts. This model did not like wasting time, neither did the artist want to waste his time, and so the artist conformed to his model’s needs.
His gaze shifted slightly to the outside world, taking note of the bright blue sky. Not a speck of cloud was in sight. The morning light was just right and he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance to enjoy the atmosphere. Of course, he had taken a picture beforehand in case the weather did suddenly decide to change, but the feeling would never be the same in comparison to the real-life model in front of him.
Eyes peered back and met the one behind the easel, expression as still as if he was a painting himself.
In the three hours duration of the artist’s work, the two individuals existed in a room of its own, away from the noise of society, away from expectations of others, and away from prying eyes. A solace to each of their own. A silence that was most comfortable.
The sketch and base colours were completed without any problems.
-
“Can you come on Tuesday from 9 AM to noon? I’ll have the studio then.” the artist nonchalantly says this, his question not really a question. A low hum of a confirmation rumbled from the model’s throat as buttons were being unfastened, clothes neatly folded and placed to the side. Separated by a thin sheet of fabric that served to be a makeshift change room, the model and artist moved to complete their own tasks.
Wiping his hands free of paints, the artist turned at the sound of the sheet rustling, the model emerging in his usual dark attire, bag in hand.
“I still think you’d look great in white.” the artist casually comments, eyes scanning up and down the length of the model’s body, thoughts filled with what clothes the model could wear at their next meeting.
Said model clicked his tongue as he made his way to the door, swiftly opening the door and closing it shut.
The artist perked a brow as a tuneless hum escaped his smiling lips.
[Day 8]
“Do you have to be here? You’re taking up my mental space.” the artist nudged the woman sitting next to him, admiring the speed of her typing skills.
“Shut up, will you? It’s quiet here since no one comes here aside from you and I really have to meet this deadline.” the woman grumbled. The poor lollipop in her mouth was crushed in her stress and anger.
“It’s your fault for leaving it to the last minute and you keep changing your subjects.” the artist patted her back, “Besides, you’re fully aware of how scary your professor is.”
“She’s not scary,” the woman glared back before returning her gaze to her laptop screen, “I just want to impress her with the work I submit.”
“Heheh, impress Professor Yoo? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Quit it, will you? At least I’m not drooling over someone that was forced to be your model. You’re practically in the same room for hours and you haven’t said a peep.”
“Hey! I did not force him.” the artist touched his chest as if he was greatly offended. “I only kept coming back to him with my request until he agreed.”
The woman paused in her mad typing and rolled her eyes, giving the artist a stink-eye. “Kim Dokja, that’s called harassment.”
Kim Dokja puffed his chest. “Even so, he still hasn’t left. Doesn’t that mean I’m not as annoying as he thought I’d be?”
“Kim Dokja, you’re paying him to be your model. He has a reason to at least hold back his anger when he’s around you. I’m surprised he hasn’t hit you in the face yet.”
“Han Sooyoung, you’re so heartless.”
“Love you too.” Han Sooyoung said in an unenthusiastic, sing-song voice.
The door rattled open, causing the two bickering friends to turn their heads towards the individual who made his entrance. Han Sooyoung turned back to work on her assignment, ignoring the tall looming man as Kim Dokja stood up from his chair.
“Yoo Joonghyuk!” Kim Dokja beamed enough to make Han Sooyoung gag, “you’re early today.”
“Mn.” was Yoo Joonghyuk’s curt response.
“The clothes I’ll have you wear today are in the usual spot.” Kim Dokja pointed at the makeshift change room as he gathered his tools, “If you have any problems with putting anything on, let me know.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nodded as he headed over, sparing a glance at Han Sooyoung before the fabric closed him off.
“Han Sooyoung, you can sit over there.” Kim Dokja pointed to another table off in the corner.
“What? Think I’ll distract him from sitting there doing nothing?” Han Sooyoung scoffed but still moved as required, shuffling her school materials in batches.
“No, I feel like you’ll distract me instead.” Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, “I don’t need to see your ugly mug which would totally ruin my mood and my painting.”
“Oh, fuck you, Kim Dokja!” a kick met his shin, a shy groan coming out of Kim Dokja’s mouth.
“Ouch, small and feisty.”
“Do you want to fight, huh, Kim Dokja?!”
“What are you two, five-year-olds?” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted as the swish of the fabric gave way. Irritation was clearly expressed on his face but that didn’t stop the two from shutting up and staring intensely.
Dressed in a midnight blue tunic shirt, Yoo Joonghyuk had left all the buttons undone, leaving room to expose his fair but well-built chest. He had rolled up the sleeves just past his elbows, revealing the expanse of tattoos on both arms of which Kim Dokja had only gotten a peek of in the previous session, his wrists adorned with a sleek watch and black, modern bracelets on the other. His shirt was half tucked in, leaving to expose the belt that Kim Dokja had painstakingly chosen, its intricate design that merged to meet the buckle. His black pants reached only above his ankles, the tightness accentuating his powerful legs. Kim Dokja didn’t give him a pair of shoes, and with the way that the model shifted his legs, dragging his feet against the cotton fabric that Kim Dokja was too lazy to clean up from last time, the artist himself felt that this decision was right.
Instead of his usual hairstyle, he had it unkept instead, reaching down to his thick brows. If it were any other model, Kim Dokja would have requested to add on some light make-up, but Yoo Joonghyuk honestly didn’t need anything at all with that almost perfect face of his. Yoo Joonghyuk slightly shifted his position as he tilted his chin slightly upwards, creating the feeling that he was looking down on Kim Dokja. The feeling of his pose and the way his eyes looked at the two sent slight shivers.
It’s as if he knew what image Kim Dokja was looking for.
“A wide, open-cut would look nice, with dishevelled sleeves.” Han Sooyoung commented after a long moment of silence, much to her chagrin.
“Right?” Kim Dokja nodded.
“Maybe add some reds next time,” Han Sooyoung added as she turned to view the setup, “maybe even some flowers,” she muttered under her breath.
Kim Dokja touched his chin, rubbing it methodically as Yoo Joonghyuk continued to stand there.
“Sit over there, let me get you into position.” Kim Dokja finally said.
-
Click!
The camera within Kim Dokja’s hands sounded as the artist proceeded to take a few more shots, pausing every now and then to adjust the picture quality and to determine whether he should take more. Kim Dokja walked to the right of Yoo Joonghyuk, opting to adjust his view by standing on a chair to take a higher angled shot. Satisfied with the number of pictures taken, he placed the camera to the side to pick up his pencil to begin drafting.
Angling it in front of him, Kim Dokja stared at his subject, his subject staring back at him. The sound of a keyboard being tapped away at filled in the ambience with Kim Dokja’s pencil strokes, a picture quickly forming on this blank canvas.
Every time Kim Dokja gazed to capture the images into his brain of how the fabric folded, the contour of Yoo Joonghyuk’s body shape, and the way the colours worked together, those dark piercing eyes always gazed back, observing.
That was one of the things that Kim Dokja liked about his model. Yoo Joonghyuk would give his undivided attention to the subject at hand. Yoo Joonghyuk only needed basic instructions before moving just as Kim Dokja wanted, and if Kim Dokja wasn’t sure about a specific pose, Yoo Joonghyuk would shift and turn his body to allow Kim Dokja to see the full potential of possible positions. Whenever that happened, Kim Dokja’s paintings happened to turn out really good. Yoo Joonghyuk really knew his body well.
The pencil in his hand quietly clattered against the side table as Kim Dokja prepared his paints and brushes. The swirls of colours merged together as he dabbed them onto his canvas, occasionally washing his brush clean or switching to another brush. Soon, the picture upon the canvas bloomed.
Han Sooyoung had left the studio at some point in time, her schoolbag and laptop gone with her. Kim Dokja often fell into trances and outside communications frequently failed to reach his ears, so Han Sooyoung and others opted to leave him as is, placing notes or leaving a text message instead whenever they had to go somewhere. He had only managed to notice the lack of her presence when he reached over to grab another paint tube, blinking once and then twice before resuming as if nothing happened.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes wandered wherever Kim Dokja moved.
The clock within the studio struck 11:30 AM.
“Couldn’t you have picked another model?” Yoo Joonghyuk spoke after a silence of almost three hours.
The paint stroke paused. Eyes flickered upwards. “I’ve already told you; it can only be you. My muse, remember?”
“I only agreed to model to get you to shut up and eventually leave me alone. I didn’t realize your contract would last until the end of the semester.”
“You? Not fully reading my contract?” Kim Dokja softly gasped dramatically, his brush gently tapping against his paint water cup before resuming to add more colours to the canvas. “Yoo Joonghyuk, I only wrote three pages to keep it simple. I doubt you would have missed the duration – I would know since I put it on the first page. In bold. And underlined. Also, size 20 font. If you’d like, I can add rainbow colours next time to make it stand out more.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled, eyes narrowing. “You put 15 sessions, not three months.”
“That’s the same thing, isn’t it?” Yoo Joonghyuk received a cheeky grin in response.
Yoo Joonghyuk huffed. “I’d rather get this done and over with.”
“Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, we’re only on the third painting session.” Kim Dokja reminded him, mocking him with a polite tone.
“You really are getting on my nerves.” Yoo Joonghyuk growled, eyebrow twitching. His expression told Kim Dokja that he was ready to strangle him, but staying true to the contract at hand, the model continued to stay in position.
“Based on your body language, that’s not what you’re telling me.” Kim Dokja countered back, voice flat.
Dark eyes peered back at the other pair of not-so-innocent blinking eyes. Yoo Joonghyuk pursed his lips instead of his usual response clenching his fists and leaving. Kim Dokja perked a brow in amusement before shifting to switch to another brush.
“What makes you think so?” Yoo Joonghyuk finally asked after another long pause.
Kim Dokja took a step back to admire his current work, eyes looking between the model and the painting.
“You like to test out a lot of things before coming to a final conclusion.” Kim Dokja responded, paintbrush in hand played between his fingers. “The way you responded to all of my attempts to get you to become my model is one part. Despite how annoying I may come across to you and the number of times I intercepted you, you never pushed me away either. When I stopped seeing you for one day, you suddenly accepted my proposal the day after. Is that not like testing waters?”
“Did you know?” Kim Dokja commented, paintbrush placed inside the paint cup, “You have this habit where you shuffle a bit with the tip of your shoes or if you have something that you can drag against the ground. It means that you’re pleased with yourself or something set your mood right, like when you tried on the set of clothes for today. You hadn’t seen it before, but it fit your figure well, and the colours are suited to your taste. Since it was only Han Sooyoung and me today who could view your looks, it was also the right amount of exposure and let you feel a bit more comfortable.”
“Am I wrong?” Kim Dokja asked, a courteous smile gracing his face.
Yoo Joonghyuk pursed his lips, eyes directly making contact with Kim Dokja’s.
“If I may point out, that’s another habit, right there – you don’t like being analyzed, so in response, you’ll glare or intimidate to make others back off.” Kim Dokja added, his gaze equally never leaving Yoo Joonghyuk’s sight. “You also don’t like the feeling of having your emotions displayed either. In a way, your lack of expression can expose a lot of what you’re thinking also.”
Yoo Joonghyuk continued to stare back, mouth still shut tight.
“Hm, how about this,” Kim Dokja tapped his chin, eyes shifting away as if pondering something. “I can extend each session to be four hours instead of three, so instead of you coming to another twelve sessions, you can just do nine. How’s that?”
Finally, Yoo Joonghyuk looked away, eyes shifting as he considered Kim Dokja’s compromise. His left eyebrow twitched before giving a shallow nod, agreeing to the new hours.
“Did you also know?” Kim Dokja grinned slyly. “When you commit to making a decision, your left eyebrow twitches. I can see you’re not against hanging out with me.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand twitched, deep breath rising from his chest evident. Kim Dokja could tell the other had wanted to shift his hand to touch his face but remembered at the last minute that he was to remain in position until the time was up. Kim Dokja chuckled internally; Yoo Joonghyuk truly was a good model.
“You know my habits.” Yoo Joonghyuk flatly responded.
“Oh, Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, I can see a lot when I’m standing behind the easel or from a distance.” Kim Dokja casually adds, reaching out to grab another brush to add some paint, “I had been chasing you for weeks, after all.”
“Where by staying in the background allows you to see everything?”
“Yes.”
“Then you haven’t considered how much you are in the same position as I am.” Yoo Joonghyuk determined.
The paintbrush within the artist’s hand paused once more.
“What?”
“You’re not aware of it, but your speech shifted somewhat to a more formal tone.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice lowly described. “You’re nervous. You’re pushing my personal boundaries because you know you can, but you don’t know how far you can go either.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“When you tell a lie, your nostrils flare, just like now.”
“I…” Kim Dokja started to mumble under his breath before being cut off by Yoo Joonghyuk’s next phrase.
“What separates you and me is the easel, but our perceptions are the same.” Yoo Joonghyuk stated.
Yoo Joonghyuk beckoned with his chin. “Come over here and see what I see.”
It was Kim Dokja’s turn to purse his lips, the hand holding the paintbrush tightening before letting go to set it aside. The artist paused in his steps, gauging the reaction of the model, eyes locked onto each other. When Yoo Joonghyuk made no move to pull away or to dismiss the command, Kim Dokja finally stepped away from the easel.
Quiet footsteps slowly approached the figure on display. Eyes followed his every movement, analyzing him down to his core. With a mere step away, the two beings stared at each other, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing as one.
The artist’s eyes pulled away, his body shifting to face the easel.
Although it was only a canvas and a set of paints, there was still meaning to the set. A passion, an interest, still left behind to stand against the test of time, of telling the story of someone who had just been there, was there, and still could be felt.
An easel was a small thing; a measly fourth wall. Despite the distance and other things that obscured the model’s full view, the artist behind it could still be seen. While it was true that an easel could cover up some things, it still could not hide everything.
Yoo Joonghyuk fully understood how an artist’s brain worked. His meaning was powerful and clear, his message instantly clicking in place within the artist’s mind. For once, Kim Dokja felt exposed in a different light.
To be an observer meant that the subject themselves could be perceived in some sort of way. No matter the form, someone would be looking, watching.
Could one really call an observer just an observer?
The clock struck noon.
“Time’s up.” Yoo Joonghyuk spoke in a low, soft voice, a voice so soft that Kim Dokja had never heard him use that tone before.
Warmth spread across the small of Kim Dokja’s back as Yoo Joonghyuk shifted to stand up and stretch, bones cracking in the process as those strong, powerful legs moved to the change room. When he lifted the fabric once more, Yoo Joonghyuk found that Kim Dokja was still standing in the same position, immersed in his thoughts. The artist’s eyes slowly wandered to meet the model’s gaze, mouth opening and closing, words lost.
“Don’t forget to breathe, idiot.” Yoo Joonghyuk perked a brow.
The model’s footsteps shuffled against the floor as the sound of the door being opened snapped Kim Dokja out of his thoughts, bewildered eyes lingering at the closed door. The heat from the small of Kim Dokja’s back crept up to his face, his heart beating fast.
Yoo Joonghyuk left in a good mood.
Kim Dokja gasped for a desperate breath.