Work Text:
The open door of the balcony roped knots around Lee, almost as if it was pulling him inside, his eyes wandered around, he sat on the concrete floor, brushes running down his hands. His loosely long chocolate brown dress teased against the floor as he positioned himself on top of a largely sized canvas paper, elbows and knees almost digging onto it. He fluttered up tilting his head slightly, letting strands of hair sweep towards the tilted side against his forehead, he felt butterflies in his stomach when his eyes fell on the moon hovered by white clouds.
Lee’s eyes turned into a crescent almost identical to the luminant white that starstruck him, his hands extended as if it could curve against the lumps on the moon as if his hands could stroke those cheeks, brush his hands against it, feeling the warmth of it.
“Every day you feel different almost like you have emotions, like me, like us, I know you do, and how much I wish you were here not only at night. Nothing has the abstracted beauty of yours.” Lee spoke with heavy heart, his rasped voice showed the transparency that expressed his pained heart, “The bright yellow isn't as beautiful as you , even though I only saw the reflection of that sun, it wasn't like you, it felt like some hasty color spread by the creator, who poured a little too much yellow with red burns, it isn't beautiful like you . You are the beauty God made, perfectly mixed colors to make you so beautiful, you are grey, a color that isn’t saturated nor toned down, you aren’t pitched black nor are you plain canvas white, you shine, but not as bright to take away my sight but bright to let your light smudge across the night and take my breath away, you make me euphoric and I love personifying you, so maybe people can see how beautiful you’d have looked if you were made a human by the painter of our galaxy. At least then those low levels could see expressions in you.” Lee said, bringing the hand down before capturing it in the memories of his eyes before looking down on the paper he was hovering over.
The ash grey smeared across the white canvas, Lee bent down to let the brush draw gentle strokes against it, he looked up again, his elegant beauty was still covered with translucent white clouds. The brush dipped on the tinted pink before being stroked against the canvas as Lee personified the moon on it.
Lee felt his heart being tied with knots as if it was stopping his breaths, he was done drawing him , a lump of saliva stuck in his throat, his eyes ran against the painting of his , legs numbing themselves. Lee got flustered at the sight of having him under his own body, his personified art of the luminant white, the moon, it was a painting of a boy with a part of his shoulder exposed with the white piece of see-through garment, hung low, running down till his ankle, but yet so Lee could still catch glimpse of his naked body through the translucent garment on top of him , his tiny waist and what was underneath, Lee could see it all, and even when it was Lee’s own painting he couldn’t hold the urge to bend down against it, bringing his head down to those well-defined hips, pressing a kiss against it.
“ You look ethereal today, you always do, Nana. ” Lee said before curling up a smile, calling out the moon, or who he named, his Nana .
Lee softly brushed his hands over the platinum hair, mesmerized by the beauty of Nana, even though it wasn’t new for him, he has been painting Nana ever since he swung the doors of his balcony open and looked at the moon closely, he remembered bringing his brushes in the balcony sitting for hours and that is when he created Nana, the colors would smear across the canvas, every night Nana would have a different sensation towards him, a whole different emotion, one night he’d be positioned under small lamplight; tears rolling down, another night he’d be wrapped under a blanket looking beautiful doing nothing, or another night he’d just be smiling at Lee or he’d just be naked, his head thrown back and body resting on top of a crinkled bedsheet, naked and yet the most beautiful figure Lee has ever laid his eyes on, and everyday Nana felt too intoxicating for Lee to exist, and every night he’d wish to pull Nana out of the painting, tuck his hair behind his ears and just be there beside Nana.
Even when Lee felt his eyes slowly blurring out the scenes in front of him with moon’s light over him, it didn’t matter and as long as his sight met the beauty he’d sit there with his brushes, falling in love with Nana all over again, and Nana was the only one for whom Lee’s hands would reach out to the door,
the open door of his balcony, the open door to his Nana.