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Y’know, falling in love with Stell wasn’t on Justin’s agenda. But honestly, he really should’ve seen it coming.
From kilometers away. It’s so clear.
It’s like he’s the main protagonist of some shitty romance movie. Of course he’s written to fall for Stell.
Stell was so easy to love.
His pretty eyes, and strong features. His delicate and lanky fingers. A voice laced with honey and vanilla, and a kind smile to match.
Stars encrusted into each way the light reflected off his eyes. Soft halos highlighting his sweeping motions when he danced.
Stell was so incredibly easy to fall for.
And so, head first into the tinted pink sea, Justin did.
°
Josh is talking his ear off about something, he doesn’t care enough to tune back into the boy’s words. Justin is annoyingly aware of the way his clothes brush up against his skin, and the feeling of his satchel rubbing against his shoulder as they walked.
Josh offers up Justin’s drink to his lips (Justin would’ve held his own drink, but it’s kind of difficult to do that when he’s holding a pretty heavy bag of art supplies in his arms), and Justin finally zones back into Josh’s rambling, quietly taking a sip from the straw poking at his lips.
“Are you scheduled at the parlor today?” Josh asks, his fingers drumming against his own drink. Justin racks through his work schedule in his brain, scanning if he had to be at the parlor that day.
Josh is absentmindedly guiding Justin through the turns down the streets from the café to his flat, patiently waiting for Justin to focus back in after he found his answer.
“No,” Justin finally lands on, pushing the drink away with his chin when Josh still held it up after he stopped sipping. “Nah, Ken gave me today off.” Justin clarifies, fingers clumsily catching against the bag in his hands.
Josh hums at that. “How’s Ken been up to? Miss the kid.” He questions, eyes gleaming fondly as he thought of the boy.
Justin shrugs distractedly, thoughts suddenly drifting towards Ken’s friend and coworker, Paulo. Justin himself was training under Ken as his tattoo apprentice, but he found himself often attached to the older piercer.
He had actually gotten his first piercings done by Paulo.
Once they finally reach Justin’s flat, the younger carefully adds the art supplies he was carrying to the organized chaos of his art studio.
He chuckles when Josh trips over the pile of empty canvases he had lying on the floor, but gestures to the little couch he had tucked in the corner. He had gotten the couch just for Josh, since he liked to hang out in his studio whenever Justin would work.
“So what’s the plan?” Josh asks, kicking his feet up as he sprawled onto the couch.
Justin clicks his tongue thoughtfully for a second, before he runs his hands down a few sticky notes he hand stuck to the wall.
“I have this oil painting portrait project due,” he replies, and he hopes Josh doesn’t mind his clipped and distracted replies. He hasn’t been feeling that well recently, but hadn’t gotten around to communicating that.
But Josh just hums in response, “cool. Who are you painting?” He pushes the conversation along smoothly, anyway. Justin nearly forgot how well the older could read him sometimes.
Justin’s mind flickers to a few people; maybe mom? ah, but I already have so many paintings of her. how about yani?
he shoots the idea down as soon as he had it. Painting family was so cheesy, after all. But then he gazes at the canvas already sitting at his easel, and a face flashes in his eyes.
He immediately fishes his phone out, settling into the chair sitting in front of his easel.
He taps his way through Stell’s contact easily, almost rehearsed. And his fingers fly to send the text easily.
send me a nice photo of you
he quickly adds on,
it’s for a project
Stell is already typing before he starts the second message.
give me a sec :-)
and a minute later, he attaches an image.
Justin recognizes it immediately. It’s one of Stell’s favorite photos of himself.
Taken from one of his dance showcase, he’s dressed to the nines, stunning flowy silk shirt, and gleaming golden accessories. The photo caught him mid movement, face carefully coated with focus. The pose is dynamic and stunning. It’s a great photo, the composition is out of this world.
Justin only sends one word back,
perfect
He looks up, chancing a glance at Josh, only to see him knowingly roll his eyes at him, playfully, of course.
“Cant wait to see how it turns out.” He says, and electric energy surges through Justin’s veins, immediately coursing through his fingers into the paintbrush the moment he picks it up.
He’s painted Stell so many times, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of painting him.
°
Justin doesn’t like it when Stell drinks.
To be fair, drunk Stell isn’t much different from Sober Stell. He still thinks clearly, and is rather honest.
Honestly, he only flushes a gentle red, stutters over some of his words, and doesn’t remember a single moment drunk when he wakes up the next morning.
Which is how he found himself standing on Stell’s apartment’s balcony with him.
Stell is quietly watching Justin’s faint movements, a cup of whisky lazily balanced between his fingers.
Justin meets the dancer’s eyes, gleaming faintly as the soft light from inside and the city below cast a gentle glow against Stell’s features. He really was pretty.
Stell wonders, mind a bit foggy, why Justin seems so upset lately. Stell actually has started to make more time for the boy, even just hanging around his place and watching him paint while he choreographed in the background.
Justin finally exhales heavily, gaze fluttering shut for a moment.
Justin’s first clenches at his side, so tight that his nails dug into his palms with a sharp sting, and his knuckles flashed white with effort, before they unfurl calculatedly. His fingers flex a bit, pinky twitching, betraying his calculatedly trained blank expression.
And it’s unsettling, Stell eventually settles on, the stoic face, seemingly chillingly familiar to the boy. Nothing like the soft youngest he knew.
The boy just glances at Stell, searching his gaze before his eyes flicker away to focus on the dark city below them.
“I don’t like it.” Justin finally says, staring down at the quietly bustling night city.
Stell makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, and Justin’s eyes burn, fists curling at his side again. He refuses to cry in front of him, no not right now. He can’t let himself fall apart.
“The way you look at me.” He clarifies, voice steady, but his fists are visibly trembling with effort. “Why do you look at me like that?”
Stell is just helplessly trying to grab the younger’s gaze, but it remains locked onto the city below.
“Like how..?” Stell finally questions.
Justin almost wants to laugh, so he does. Because if he’s being honest, if he didn’t, he’d just cry.
It’s a bitter sound emanating emptily from his hollow chest. God, why did the world hate him so?
The younger finally turns away, no longer facing the dancer, leaning forward against the balcony railing.
His hands finally relax, pinky once again twitching; red stains the palms, stark tiny crescent shaped marks glowering angrily against Justin’s smooth palms.
“Like you could love me.”
The proclamation hangs in the air between them for a bit.
Stell isn’t sure how to process it, but it feels heavy. The undertones feel particularly meaningful, but he’s not there enough to put them together.
And so, Stell just claps Justin on the back, with a sharp grin, and exclaims softly,
“Of course I love you, Jah. You’re one of my best friends.”
When Stell is up the next day, he doesn’t recall a single memory of last night, so Justin closes his eyes, and exhales, allowing himself to breathe out his feelings for a second, and recycle the stardust back to her mother star.
°
If there’s one thing anyone knew about Stell, it was that he’s truly an enigma. Did he even like boys?
Stell honestly barely even talked about girls, let alone boys.
But Justin soon got his answer, and it wasn’t one he liked at all.
“Yknow, your dude, Ken, he’s really handsy with that Paulo kid.” Stell says one day, after hanging out at the tattoo parlor.
Justin turns to him curiously. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just like..” Stell starts, trailing off before shrugging noncommittally. “Is he like? One of those homos ?”
The way Stell says it has Justin stilling.
“No..?” Justin eventually replies. “He’s not into boys.” Because yeah, Ken isn’t. Ken isn’t into anyone . That’s the whole point.
Stell hums, a low tone that rumbles through Justin’s chest warmly. He suddenly doesn’t like it as much.
“So he’s straight.” Stell keeps his eyes forward, not even chancing a glance at Justin.
“He’s Ace.” Justin corrects, and flinches when Stell’s immediately eyes snap to him.
“Huh.” Is all Stell replies to it. “So he’s one of those people.”
Justin doesn’t like the way he says it. Actually, he hates the way it flies from his lips. Like a quasar aimed directly at his heart of starlight, it hurt him.
“What do you mean by that?” Justin asks quietly, noticing the way Stell’s fists tighten.
Stell just stares at him for a second, quiet supernovae in his eyes, Justin wants to be disgusted, but he isn’t. He hates that he still loves Stell so much.
“Like those fucking snowflakes.” Stell finally spits, averting his eyes. “I bet that Paulo dude is also some sort of faggot.”
Justin doesn’t say anything, but he can feel his heart splitting in two. The red giant star of pulsing love, cascading into an aurora of planetary nebulae.
Justin pretends to take a phone call, and turns to Stell, muttering a quick, “Sorry, Josh needs me, emergency.” Before scurrying out of there, tail between his legs like some sort of beaten dog.
Stell shrugs him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Justin can’t help the sob that falls from his mouth as he rounds the corner and begins running back to the tattoo parlor.
Justin bursts through the door, Paulo and Ken quickly flying to their feet from where they were quietly conversing with each other.
Ken immediately grabs Justin’s face gently, cradling him like the dying white dwarf star he felt like.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Ken asks, and hearing his low voice just had Stell’s snarl flashing behind his eyelids. Justin shatters, shuddering and sobbing into Ken’s shoulder.
He feels a third hand, steady against his back. Paulo.
“It was Stell..!” Justin cries out, gasping into Ken’s neck. He tries to focus on Ken’s gentle fingers carding lovingly through his hair.
“Your dancer friend?” Paulo mumbles under his breath. He then clicks his tongue. “Ah, the one you like.” Justin hadn’t even told him. Was he seriously that obvious? Did Stell know that he was..
Justin shudders again, body quaking with a full body sob.
“What happened?” Ken gently nudges, as if he knew Justin was one push away from exploding in a series of violent supernovae.
“He-“ Justin tries to explain, but his own sobs get caught in his throat. Paulo’s quietly rubbing his back, a comforting warmth steadying him to earth. “He called you a..!”
Justin doesn’t even want to say it. Because did that mean Stell indirectly called him ..
“He has an issue with me liking boys..?” Paulo, ever sharp, finally finished his sentence. Justin feels more than hears Ken’s sharp inhale, the way he stiffens, even the fingers carding through his hair freeze.
“He was so..!” Justin bursts, new tears replacing the old ones, and Ken immediately pulls Justin’s face back into the crook of his neck. He mutters quiet praise and loving comments into Justin’s hair.
Ken meets Paulo’s eyes over Justin’s head. His eyes catch on the dangerous way his dangling piercings glint in the light of the parlor. They then travel to the quiet fire burning behind his irises.
Ken sends him a muted nod, and Paulo needs no more, spinning on his heel and stomping out the door on a mission. The trails of charred fire he left in his wake let Ken know he was justified in his decision.
(Paulo spins Stell by the shoulder, throwing him completely off balance. Before Stell can shout angrily about being shoved, Paulo immediately throws a devastating punch across Stell’s pretty face. He revels in the loud crunch it provided and the harsh shout Stell released. He doesn’t even give him a second glance; he walks back to the parlor, and flips the open sign to closed.)
°
The next time Stell runs into Justin, it isn’t pretty.
“So what? You send your little boy toy after me?” Stell immediately snaps, narrowing his eyes at the artist. But he doesn’t seem to be too mad actually AT him. Strange. It probably had something to do with the fact he probably still anticipated Justin being straight.
“What..?” Justin replies, confused. He hadn’t even realized anyone did anything to Stell.
Stell impatiently gestures at his bruised face, a medical patch sitting on his cheek, and bandaid crossed over the bridge of his nose.
“Huh..?!” Justin clamors. He hadn’t anticipated that, he didn’t want that. As much as his heart was breaking, he still didn’t want to see that face hurting. He’s not sure which part was more upsetting to him. “You got hurt?”
Stell’s eyes immediately soften when he realizes Justin didn’t know.
“You didn’t send him?” Stell asks, voice gentler. Justin is beyond conflicted at the way his voice flutters the moths in his lungs.
“Send who..?” At the response, Stell exhales lightheartedly, scooping Justin up into his chest, his hand petting his hair affectionately.
“It wasn’t you.” Stell breathes into Justin’s hair. His heart flutters, and he hates it.
“But who did it?” Justin asks, detaching himself from the dancer carefully. He watches with keen eyes, how his expression freezes over.
“That Paulo.”
Justin feels his entire world freeze. “It was Paulo..?” Stell just grunts noncommittally in response. “The nerve of that guy. Thinks he’s all that, huh, just because he’s some sort of sissy.”
“Don’t say that..!” Justin cries out. He can see the way Stell’s face darkens at him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget it.
“Why not?” Stell questions, tone startlingly accusatory. His eyes narrow, and Justin flinches.
Justin’s mind blanks, he doesn’t even try scrambling for an answer because, what can he say..?
Justin spots Josh walking toward their general direction, he can’t help but try to will him away mentally.
“Are you even listening to me right now?” Stell shouts, and Justin flinches again, stepping backward.
Justin spots the way Josh carefully began to listen and watch. He can’t tell if he’s thankful or not yet.
“Why do you even care so much?” Stell sneers eventually, patience thinning, and Justin feels the coil tightening in his chest. It burns and licks his ribs with blue hot flames.
He grabs it with his hands and tears it apart in frustration, a moment of weakness.
“Because I am gay!” Justin breaks, eyes squeezed shut. The air between them suddenly goes still, and Justin immediately regrets the words the moment they tumbled out of his mouth. Justin chances a look, eyes fluttering open, and he tries to take deep steady breaths.
He hadn’t even realized his chest was heaving up and down, breathing uneven.
Stell is sitting in stunned silence for a second, before his face contorted, and any semblance of friendliness he had remaining for Justin was drained from his features.
It was threatening, and it tore him apart from the inside. Justin didn’t feel safe.
“So you’re one of them .” Stell spits the word out, and it’s a dagger straight into Justin’s heart.
Why, why? Why !
Why is his heart still pulsing for him!?
Justin exhales shakily, taking a step back. He shakes his head, and Stell has the nerve to laugh at it.
“What? You’re just gonna go back on your word and say you didn’t just tell me you’re like those abominations ?” Justin wants to cry. Stell didn’t even say gay, as if he’d rather die than have the word in his mouth.
“You-“ Justin starts, voice wavering, but Stell cuts him off, taking a step toward him.
“Do not compare yourself to me.” He hissed, eyes narrowing. “You and I are not the same!” Stell grabs Justin by the shoulders, and he bites back a whimper. “You know nothing of me!”
Stell glowers, a sarcastic grin playing his features. It’s so fucking terrifying, but Justin still loves him so much, his heart doesn’t fucking care.
“Next thing you’ll tell me is that you fucking love me!” Stell scoffs disgustedly, and it’s like Justin’s heart was ripped from his chest, and stamped into the floor.
Because yes. Yes he does.
When Justin doesn’t answer, Stell’s face hardens, lips pulling into a sneer.
“Ugh..!” He growls. “You do, don’t you!?” Stell moves forward to shove Justin, and he slams into the wall behind him. Justin hisses quietly at the sting of the impact. “You fucking—!” He’s cut off abruptly by Josh shoving him out of the way.
Justin nearly cried out in relief when his face filled his vision. His mind was just crying out ‘safe, safe, safe!’ At the sight of the gentle eyed boy.
Josh places himself in front of Justin protectively. Stell just steps back up. “I could never love you!”
Justin feels his entire universe pause, a moment of silence, before his galaxy explodes into millions of violent supernovae, blowing everything to stardust.
“Are you going to cry now?” Stell has the audacity to laugh, and Justin can’t help the tears that roll down his face. Josh glowers in front of him, his own personal red dwarf star, angry and pulsing.
“Leave. Leave right now.” Josh doesn’t ask, he’s not even suggesting. Josh demands the dancer, eyes blazing, challenging Stell’s hateful gaze.
Stell scoffs, but Josh shoves him when he gets closer.
“Are you out of your mind?” Josh shouts, keeping Justin close to his back with his hand. “Get out of my sight!” The shout rips its way up Josh’s throat, dragging against the walls of his mouth.
Stell clicks his tongue, sending one last glare at Justin, before finally storming off.
There’s a quiet moment, where the stars of twilight twinkle, a careful moment of fragile vulnerability after a Big Bang.
“It’s cute that you tried to protect me, but you’re like a foot shorter than me, y’know?” Justin mumbles into nothing, voice uncharacteristically soft. Josh doesn’t even acknowledge the jab, opening his arms, and allowing the broken boy to finally crumble into his chest.
And it’s the most heartbreaking thing Josh has ever seen. Even when he closes his eyes, the image of Justin sobbing into his shirt is burned onto the back of his eyelids.
He thinks he just might hate Stell.
°
Justin finds himself staring at the oil portrait sitting in his studio. The pale moonlight from the large floor to ceiling windows leaking it’s quiet lunar rays into the room.
It’s a beautiful painting, really, one of his bests. And he kind of hates that.
With numb motions, he finds himself stalking towards the easel. At first he stands over it, shadow carefully looming over, a lunar eclipse of its own. Then he’s grabbing the canvas off the wood, and bringing it over his head.
He’s almost unaware, in a way. He watched his movements happen from the third person, as if he were an outsider looking in.
Justin registers the pounding on his front door, it’s loud, he can hear it from his studio. It’s Ken, he knows, he’s shouting, tearing his warm velvety voice with how urgent he’s screaming. He probably shouldn’t have sent such a careless text to him when he was this emotionally raw. He’s not thinking straight.
So he pointedly ignored the thudding.
With trembling hands, he brings the painting down to his knee, the force of it completely rips a hole through the middle.
His fingers flex, he can feel the twitch of his pinky against the wooden frame. He twists the two ends of the painting, until they completely rip apart.
The tear rips through Stell’s serene face, delicately painted with warm colors.
Satisfying .
Justin finally sinks to the floor, fingers numbly releasing the splintered wood of the broken canvas. He finally allows the tears to fall, a broken laugh falling from his mouth. It ends up dissolving miserably into a sob, one he has himself covering his mouth to mute.
The painting is due the next day, he shows up empty handed, the painting still sitting, broken across his studio’s floor.
And he can’t help but wish he could hate Stell, too.
But he can’t even do that. What a joke.
He fails the project.