Chapter 1: Maybe you can't paint real angels
Chapter Text
It had been 12 months, on the dot. And he had sworn to himself, that this time around it wasn’t going to be a repeat of the 1st and 4th anniversary. And it most definitely wasn’t going to be like the 5th one either. He had made himself that promise.
On the one-year anniversary I will be over it.
Over him.
And then today had come. Hyunjin felt like an alcoholic desperately trying to stay sober. He went to the meetings (outings with his friends, that were purely platonic). He stayed away from liquor stores (nightclubs of any kind). And he didn’t even buy a simple bottle of champagne when he sold the most expensive of his paintings last month (he didn’t go out for a celebratory night and didn’t take home the man that had bought the painting and suggested he liked to get to know him more).
No, Hyunjin had been good.
He was clean since his last misstep at the 5th month since him. But on anniversaries of getting your heart broken, crushed and stomped upon it was harder to stay away from your vices of choice.
It wasn’t really alcohol or men. It was the loud and the quiet that Hyunjin was craving. Sometimes he dashed from the silence towards the noises, just to arrive and realise the needed the exact opposite. Still alcohol was something he tended to need to get some sleep on nights, where both the silence and the sounds of the world around him were too loud. But it wasn’t really a problem, he could quit, anytime he wanted. And he could quit everything else too. The obsessive online stalking that never brought anything new up, because he was blocked since day X. Or the partying and the long hours at his studio.
He could quit.
Some say if you tell yourself that often enough then its getting easier to believe it.
Not tonight though, apparently. Because tonight everything had just been too much. They say it gets easier with time, to stay away from the drug you are recovering from. And it really was, on usual days, where nothing special happened. But it was so hard, so very very hard to say away from it, when the whole reason you were consuming was coming around again. When it had been exactly one year, 12 agonizing months of struggling to get back on your feet.
Hyunjin was no cat, he didn’t land on his feet after the fall. No, he had fought and pulled himself back onto them, just to be knocked down after one week and one moth and then again after 4 months. Maybe there had been even more stumbles after that and he had just forgotten.
And now again, 12 months. He had to start all over tomorrow. Day 1 for the millionths time. All because tonight, the studio had been too empty and his apartment too full of memories and ghosts of the past.
So he had fled, had run from the ghosts and seeked refuge in a club, he wasn’t actually dressed for well enough. He stood out like a sore thumb. But he had charmed the bouncer enough and here he was now. A night out, not even remotely done at half past midnight, but he already felt terribly hungover. But it was better than being alone. He couldn’t stand being alone nowadays. Before, he had loved it, the creative energy’s flowing when he got time alone, away from people who would try to shape it. Nowadays the creativity just turned dark if there wasn’t someone to guide him towards lighter colours.
Today, anything was better than being alone. And anything was better than being the person he was today. The pathetic person who was still not over him, as he promised himself he would be. He didn’t want to be that person tomorrow. He wanted to be the better version that should have emerged from this break up. He should have had the glow up other people had when their so-called love of their lives left them. He deserved that glow up, damnit. Instead he was emotionally hungover, dying his hair a different colour every other week and still constantly trying to drown out the reminders of him.
NO.
Instead of a glow up, he couldn’t draw anymore. Or at least anything that wasn’t random woman he saw on the streets. They were so pretty, prettier than he was. They were smiling, tossing back their hair and he painted them all like this. He couldn’t bring himself to make them uglier in his paintings or even slightly less perfect. And every time he stared at their faces, as the canvases filled the space in his little studio, he could only ask himself: Was it this one? Is that the woman he left me for? Or was it that girl, barely 18 from the looks of it. No it couldn’t be, he hadn’t wanted a boy like Hyunjin, so why would he want a girl that young.
No, he had wanted a woman, a wife. Someone he could introduce his parents to. Not someone you had to hide, someone who made art that was slightly to explicit. Not a young man with so much creativity in his head that filled galleries and kink shops. The gallery openings he only attended because he wanted to support young artists from Seoul. That’s what he had told his friends he had met by chance at Hyunjin’s last opening night. Right before excusing himself to the bathroom to kiss his ‘promising young artist from Seoul’ senseless. Only there for the art, never the pretty boy who was making it.
So no, it couldn’t be the girl. Unless of course he did stick to his usual prey of younger by multiple years. He had always liked his partners younger. Hyunjin had not been the exception. God, he should have really listened to his friends when they told him he wasn’t a good idea. Older man only ever brought trouble, one had said. At least if they were older by much and those 15 years should have been enough of a warning sign.
But Hyunjin hadn’t listened, had brushed their remarks aside and dived into the love story of his life. At least that was what he had believed it was. Now, more than two years later he was older but none the wiser how he hadn’t seen the signs. And he still couldn’t shake the aftermath of that break up no matter how hard he tried to.
Drinking alone didn’t help, he needed more. None of his friends were here, they were usually generously sharing their pills. So he took a pill from the least suspecting looking guy in the bathroom and decided a man should do the trick. Any man, someone who was willing to be pushed down to his knees until the orgasm wiped all the bad thoughts from his own mind. If he passed out after a good fuck and some liquor, he usually slept through the night. At least if the guy was quiet while sneaking out.
Dancing, hands all over his body, that was the first step to tonight’s cure. One of the man currently surrounding him, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat ready to sell, yeah one of them would do. Just a fuck, nothing more. Hyunjin would be damned if he ever let someone close enough to break his heart again.
That’s when he saw them.
They were not that far away, just a few metres to his left. And they were entrancing. He felt like standing still, while everything around him moved. Was he standing still? Or was it just that everything, even his own body’s movements were so insignificant, now that he saw them. Two body’s, one small and one big, dancing and moving together like they were one. One strong back, clad in a black dress shirt and one face, that’s all he saw. But that face, heavens, the face. It belonged to the prettiest creature he’d ever seen. Compared to this face, him was insignificant. He could never compete.
Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to be able to teleport into his studio. He wanted to paint it, even though he wasn’t sure he could even do it justice. No, he couldn’t. He could never copy the way the skin was glowing underneath the clubs dingy light or the way the ghost of a smile danced around the curve of their lips. And nothing, not even Courbet and Renoir could have done justice, could have portraited the way the blonde strands were moving around the mans face. It was angelic. But there was something Hyunjin could paint, there was the body to which the angel was clinging. Hyunjin pulled himself back, not once blinking, trying to commit the sight to his memory as good as he could. It was his only chance. Once he turned, he wouldn’t get another opportunity. He took a step and then another. And then the crowd closed around them and he started running.
He ran, all the way to the studio, threw off his coat and nearly tripped over some paint bottles on his way to his working station.
He didn’t eat and he didn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the angels face was in front of him. Staring at him.
Now, here in the cold of his studio, surrounded by the smell of paint and the nights air that streamed through the open window he wasn’t so sure anymore. He couldn’t shake the feeling that what he had seen was anything but a hallucination. It could have just been the drugs, just part of the trip he had been on.
Still, he painted. He lines of the neck came easy, the colours of the shirt that had clung to sweaty skin weren’t much harder. And then, he felt like he had barely even started, he was done. But he didn’t stop. He kept going, mixing lighter colours until they matched the image in front of his inner eye. He tried and tried and tried to get the proportions right. But he couldn’t.
It was impossible, not doable.
So he grew frustrated, angry. He got angry at the light smears that appeared where the angels face should be. Why couldn’t he do it? He had never had a problem to draw the woman’s faces, after only seeing them once. And they were accurate to the point. So why couldn’t he do this?
There were thousands of painting of angels in the world. They hung in Churches and galleries in every country, in every city. Why couldn’t he paint an angels face?
Groaning, Hyunjin tossed away the brush. He was tired and he needed a break. And a drink, he desperately needed a drink. He stood, stumbled slightly, his body sore from sitting on the stool for hours. He made his way over to the small bed. He sunk down and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
It was still dark when he woke up, urgently needing a trip to the bathroom. After he had thrown up and splashed water into his face, his skin felt really weird. He staggered back towards his bed. Halfway there he noticed the giant canvas that was still at his working station. The light swirls still waiting to be shaped into a face. No eyes, no nose and no mouth. Nothing but nothingness.
He couldn’t help but stare at the dark and light colours mixing and trying to recall the face he tried to paint. It was still there, but he couldn’t visualise it, not really. It was a memory and nothing at all at the same time. Not enough to ever become something on this canvas.
Accepting defeat, Hyunjin reached for the pen, he usually signed his painting with, once they were done. But he hesitated. Was this, the first thing he had painted that wasn’t a stranger face he suspected of being his ex’s boyfriends new wife, really something he wanted to show the world as Hyunjin? Or was this something that was only his? Even if someone bought it, and he was sure he would try to sell it. He couldn’t imagine having this here in his studio or his apartment forever. Haunting him, until it drove him to insanity because, nothing he could do, would ever make the angels face appear on it.
No he would sell it.
Even if someone bought it, it would still be his. It would always be his. A sign of freedom, because Hyunjin realised that, despite the night out and the drugs, he had only stopped thinking about him, as he was trying to paint the angels face. And this freedom, was not something someone apart from him would ever feel when they looked at this painting.
So, instead of taking the pen he reached for a slimmer brush and the red signature paint he used whenever he signed paintings with his alias. The red matching the exact colour of his ponytails tips right now. He signed the bottom right corner as always, dropping the brush as soon as he was done and staggering back towards his bed. The bottle of liquor was still waiting for him and he drank, trying to forget the way the angel had looked at him. The way the dark eyes had torn into his soul when they had met his gaze. And the way he couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness of what they might have seen when they looked at him.
~
“Angel” ˈānjəl
Originating from the Greek word “angelos”, angel means messenger, often one of a higher power. Today, the word describes spiritual being, often portrayed as a celestial creature with wings and divine powers. It is often within the context of religion that these creature appear and they also feature in a variety of famous painting such as ‘the Sistine Madonna’ by Raffael or ‘Jacob wrestling with the angel’ by Rembrandt.
Angel. The word Chan currently despised the most. Not because of its origin or the paintings he couldn’t really say he liked. No, it wasn’t really the words fault that he was growing sick of it. When he first heard Felix whisper it into his hear in a dark nightclub, he hadn’t known how often he was going to hear it over the next few weeks. The Angel was all Felix talked about once every other possible topic like the weekend plans or the shopping list was discussed. And Chan loved Felix, he did so with every part of him. But he hadn’t seen the so-called Angel like Felix had. And he couldn’t help but wonder if Felix had just imagined that man. They had been drunk and high on the night out. Felix had searched the dancefloor with his eyes the whole evening and whined all the way home about not seeing the stranger again. And he returned to the topic whenever he had a free minute. Now though, it was enough. All evening, Angel this angel that. What do you think is his name? If we go to the club again you think he will be there?
Chan was fine when Felix told him last week about the cute guy he had met at a café and sucked off in the bathroom. He had enjoyed the hand job Felix had given him while telling him all about how the guy had wanted his number, but Felix told him there was only one guy he wanted to date right now. Even though dating was on the table if they both agreed, but so far no one had really sparked any of their interest. Until now. Now there was the Angel.
“Love, if you ask me one more time about this guy, I will personally search all through Seoul until I have found him and god help me if you don’t fuck him. I love you, and you can do with him whatever you want. But please, Felix please. Can you not talk about him while I am knuckles deep inside of you?”.
Felix relented after that. But Chan could see that the thought was still present in his boyfriends mind, whenever it was not occupied with something. The Angel was always there. And even though Chan wasn’t jealous about someone they never even properly met; he couldn’t help but wonder. What if they ever did meet him. Would he too have his mind consumed by him the way Felix had? Or was this a Felix phenomenon only? He sighed, turning over again and reaching for Felix’s body. When he pulled the other man close and inhaled the scent he had grown so accustomed to, he felt himself relax. May come whatever the universe decided to give. As long as he could pull Felix close at the end of the day, nothing could shake him.
Chapter 2: First and second impressions
Summary:
A snort came from a man who was just passing them by. Jisung turned cherry red in an instant and hid his face in Minho’s neck. “Ah well. It’s nice you two could make it. Changbin owes me money now. He bet you two wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”, he said nonchalant, taking a sip from his champagne.
Notes:
Welcome back.
This is slightly longer than the first chapter, but not nearly as long as the chapters in my other works. One simple reason: I don't want to rush this. This will hopefully become a full story, so I have decided to just take my time with it. Also: shorter chapters means you don't have to wait so long for updates. At least that is the plan.This is not beta read, maybe we will make changes later on, but I was too impatient to wait any longer.
Hope you like it.
Chapter Text
“We are so late”, Felix panted, trying to keep up with Chans long strides as they turned another corner. It was true, they were very very much too late. “This is your fault”, he wheezed when they finally stopped in front of the building that hosted the exhibition. It had been Chans fault.
It had been a busy few weeks. Work was very demanding since two bands he worked with were aiming for a comeback next summer. There was a never-ending demand for songs and ideas. Not that Chan didn’t have enough material to write 100 songs, all about Felix. But it wasn’t like he could produce them on demand like some people ordered coffee. It wasn’t that easy.
And piled on top off his immense work load, Felix had been out of the country for a few modelling gigs the last three weeks. It was their first real evening back together. So sue him but when Felix had announced they were invited to a gallery opening, he hadn't exactly been thrilled about it. He would have appreciated if Jisung had the decency to leave them alone after three weeks apart and no time for a phone sex at all. The only thing that benefited him the slightest about this outing tonight was Felix’s choice of outfit. He wore black slacks and a dress shirt with a double row of golden buttons. The buttons weren't fully closed at the top, leaving a good portion of his chest exposed. Gold rings adorned his fingers.
He looked so handsome than Chan could barely stop himself from tearing the shirt off and start undressing his boyfriend again. Felix had laughed, but protested when Chan reached for him.
“No, I just spend an hour in the bathroom getting ready, you are not destroying this.”
“Yah come on. You cant wear this and expect me to keep my hands to myself.”, Chan had muttered, trying to touch Felix hair, but with the grace of a cat, his partner evaded his hand. “No, no absolutely not. If you touch my hair I will scream so loud your neighbours will think you are murdering me. This isn’t a hairstyle; it is art. Touch it and die.”
The way Felix had fixed him with his serious stare and pointed an accusing finger at him, Chan nearly relented. Nearly.
In the end, Felix hadn’t protested when Chan had sunken to his own knees to give his boyfriend a more or less rushed blowjob. Though it had been more on the less rushed side. Hence, why they were late and why it was Chans fault entirely.
“Fine, tell everyone it was my fault, but do tell them why as well.”, Chan said, trying to catch his breath, while opening the gallery door for the both of them.
“I will most certainly not. We will say you couldn’t find the car keys or something.”, Felix answered, letting his gaze stray over the people already walking through the gallery. It seemed as if they had missed the opening speech. Not the worst thing to miss Chan thought.
“Felix. Felix, Chan over here”.
At one of the tables Jisung was waving them over.
“Not a single word to him”, Felix uttered as they made their way over to his roommate and his boyfriend.
“Wouldn’t dream of it”, Chan whispered back from the corner of his mouth before smiling big and hugging their friends hello.
“Man I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever”, Minho said hugging him back before turning to Felix and kissing the blonde on both cheeks. “Felix, you look stunning”, he grinned mischievous as Jisung slapped his arm hard. “Stop flirting with him. I’m right here”. Chan laughed at his friends antics.
“Ah come here Ji, I can flirt with you too”, he said reaching out for his friend only for Jisung to back away. “Hell no, I’m not that tired of being able to sit.”
A snort came from a man who was just passing them by. Jisung turned cherry red in an instant and hid his face in Minho’s neck. “Ah well. It’s nice you two could make it. Changbin owes me money now. He bet you two wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”, he said nonchalant, taking a sip from his champagne.
“Yah, stop betting on everything with Binni”, Chan chastised. “It’s a nasty habit you two formed there.”
“You are only mad about it because I am always right about predicting your next move. You have to be less predictable. Maybe then Changbin wouldn’t lose every time.“, Minho laughed.
“Did we miss anything important?”, Chan redirected the conversation towards more crowd friendly topics. Jisung shook his head. “Not much. Just some boring speech about the gallery and a less boring speech about the artists who present their works tonight. There is a section for every artist and even one for works that are published under different names. Some of the artists in that category are here tonight, other are not. Some of them never went to an opening night before, at least not that anyone would know it. Because no one knows who they are. That’s cool isn’t it. People buy your art for thousands of Won, and they don’t even know your name or what you look like.”. The brunette was bouncing on his feet, apparently more than a little excited to see those works.
“Any reason why they are published anonymity?” Felix asked, craning his neck towards the section Jisung had pointed at.
“Well”, Minho said, taking another sip from his drink and smiling knowingly. “Some are quite Explicit you know?”
Felix crooked his head like a curious kitten. “Explicit? What do you mean?”. But Minho didn’t answer directly. Instead he tilted his head and smiled at Felix. “Figure it out on your own won’t you?”. With that he placed his empty glass upon the table and walked off towards a group of people currently surrounding on of the artists as it seemed.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “Mr Mysterious, ha-ha. Felix honestly it’s just a bunch of kink art. Its not that bad. Some stuff is just normal painting as far as I could see. Not everything is explicit.” He too sat down his glass and took Felix hand. “Let’s go, I wanna show you some paintings that were done by Minho’s friend. Maybe he can introduce you later. He is really talented.”
And off they were. Chan took a minute to finish his own glass of champagne, letting his gaze wonder. He briefly locked eyes with a man on the table next to him. He was not alone like Chan was, but surrounded by people who were apparently eager to talk to him. In contrast to the people surrounding him the man all but seemed bored. He wasn’t paying attention to the woman currently holding onto his hand while gushing over something she seemed very excited about. The man used his free hand to play around with the glass he was holding, tilting it this and that way, while looking back at Chan.
The man was beautiful to say the least. Dark hair with red tips falling down to his shoulders. His face was all sharp angles and soft eyes. The eyes, it was all Chan could see once their gazes met. While the man’s whole-body language screamed bored and relaxation the eyes were not resting. They seemed so awake and alert that Chan felt as if they were seeing through him. The stranger watched him for a few seconds, his gaze traveling all over Chans broad silhouette and down towards the hands that were still holding on to his glass. Chan felt like he was being analysed. But why? Then the moment was over as Minho reappeared and dragged him over towards where Jisung and Felix were talking about the art that was displayed. The crowd behind him swallowed the man and Chan lost sight of him immediately.
They spend a good part of the evening wandering round the gallery. Jisung and Minho debated on several paintings if they were the right present for Minho’s cousin, that had invited them for her wedding next month. While Minho was very much on board with gifting her a painting that depicted a very loose interpretation of oral sex once you look a little closer at the shapes, Jisung was not having it.
“No, absolutely not”, he said even before Minho opened his mouth. They had reached the part of the gallery that Jisung had described as ‘explicit’ before. Felix understood what his friend had meant by now.
The sculpture in front of them was a bouquet of flowers made from clay. Well, one might call it that, if the flowers weren’t all shaped in different shapes of vulvas.
“Well its certainly … interesting” Felix muttered. Next to him someone snorted.
“Spoken like a true gay man”
Felix eyes widened. That wasn’t Chan’s voice. No, Chan was a few steps ahead now, looking at a painting that portrayed two lovers that laid side by side on the forest floor.
It wasn’t Jisung or Minho either, those two were in front of him, bickering over the question if a bouquet of vulvas were the right present for a heterosexual wedding.
No, the man next to him was none of his friends. But he was undeniable stunning.
Dark brown and red hair framing his face in a beautiful, effortless style. Long elegant limbs, like those of a dancer, thin but not weak. He was dressed in a simple outfit, that very much emphasized his simple elegance. Dark suit pants and a jacket over a white mesh sweater. The curve of his throat was covered in black and white pearls, overall the outfit was gorgeous. Felix didn’t know what he should ask first: the strangers name or the name of his designer.
The dark eyes and sharp lines off the man’s face grew more familiar the longer Felix looked at them. Something about him reminded Felix of desire, of longing. But he couldn’t put a place or a name to the face he was looking at.
He opened his mouth, still unsure what to say, not that it mattered really. His voice failed him anyway. And his brain and his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. If his legs failed him now too, he would hide in his bed and never resurface again. There was only so much embarrassment he could take.
“Hi”, the stranger extended his hand and before Felix could think about it, they were already touching. The other man’s palm wasn’t soft like his was. No, it was rough callouses and dry skin. Now that they were closer, Felix could smell the him too. Something artificial, a perfume or aftershave. Nothing that stung in the nose, but was so subtle you would miss it, unless you were fortunate enough to be close to the angelic man.
They were still shaking hands.
How long had they been shaking hand now? Felix couldn’t remember, he was too hung up int the chemical smell that also lingered around the man. It reminded Felix of the atelier he once visited when he had taken a class on art restoration during college. He had been bored in his major back them and took whatever class sounded interesting to fill empty spaces between mandatory classes.
Still shaking hands.
Right, how long was the hand shake going to be? Felix realised they weren’t even shaking hands anymore. The man in front of him had stopped moving their hands up and down and was simply holding onto his fingers in a gentle but firm grip.
“I didn’t catch your name?” the man was asking, smiling shyly at Felix and that was when he finally realised why he knew the man.
“Angel” he blurted out. The mans head tilted, watching intrigued as Felix head grew hot the second he had blurted the word out. Shit, that wasn’t what we wanted to say. Not at all. But this was the man, the angel he had seen at the club all those weeks ago.
“Your name is angel? Wow that’s funny. Not that it isn’t fitting.”, the last sentenced was murmured, so low, it was a wonder that Felix even cough it in the busy hum of the gallery.
Before Felix could tell the stranger his real name they were interrupted.
How could he not have seen the second the stranger had appeared, the longer he looked at his face the clearer his memory came back. A body nestled in between the crowd at the club. A pale face staring at him with so much intensity, that Felix couldn’t help but stare back. Eyes that looked so lost, while being surrounded by so many people. Maybe he hadn’t realised because it had been so dark in the club and the gallery as so well lit.
Maybe he hadn’t realised it because it had been weeks since he had seen the man and he had thought he might have only imagined it. But there was no imagination now. Not when Minho was hugging the stranger that had finally let go of Felix hand, which felt clammy and warm now. Wonderful, he had sweated all over the gorgeous strangers hand. That was just wonderful.
“Hyunjin”, Minho said, when he let go of the stranger and kissed him on both cheeks. “You have outdone yourself you know that? The flower installation you have back there alone must have taken weeks to finish. I’m not even mad anymore that you disappeared on me again.”
The stranger, Hyunjin as Felix had learned now, blushed, swatting Minho’s hands away as the dark-haired man was cupping his cheeks. “Let go Minho, you insufferable mother hen. I texted you I was fine”
Minho huffed, but let go of the other man in favour of winding his arm around Jisung’s waist, who had followed his boyfriend towards them.
“Yeah, fine doesn’t cut it and you know that. I mean have you eaten anything that wasn’t delivery while you worked?”
Hyunjin only regarded him with a sharp disapproving look before turning his attention towards Jisung.
“Hi, you must be Jisung-ssi.”, he extended a hand towards Jisung and bend down a little to press a quick kiss to the other mans knuckles.
Jisung stood frozen for a second before regaining his composure. “Yes hi, but Jisung is fine honestly.” He turned to Minho and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear: “Why do you never kiss my knuckles like this huh?”
Hyunjin laughed and Felix couldn’t help but ask himself the same question. The difference was that he asked himself why Hyunjin hadn’t kissed his knuckles, not Minho. Before he could waste too much thought on that, he felt Chan slide up next to him. His arm brushed Felix and he felt himself relax. Overhearing Minho defending himself. “He always does that to fuck with me. Fucking royal behaviour.”
Next to him Chan peaked up. “Royal? Are we in the company of royalty Minho? I didn’t know you had such good connections.”
~
“He is just making fun of me.”, Hyunjin intervened. Chans attention turned towards the stranger, who he recognised as the man he had seen earlier, surrounded by eager admirers. He seemed less bored now, his body as alert as his eyes were. And Chan couldn’t help but notice how the strangers eyes travelled over him again, then over the lack of space between Felix and him and last but not least how they raked over Felix whole appearance, slowly. It was an accessing gaze and Chan felt the little fire of excitement bubble up. He loved when people saw Felix like he did. Usually people looked at Felix with fast assessment. Eyes travelled over the most important parts one might consider and then they made their decision. Most of them wanted Felix for his face, for his hands, some fore his more intimate parts.
This man though, he took his time. He took in every little thing that was Felix. From his blonde hair down to the feet that were hidden in fancy leather shoes. This man looked at Felix as if he was trying to commit him to memory. He had the gaze of someone who truly appreciated the divine beauty that was Lee Felix. And Chan could always tell when someone was only there for the benefits they would have for associating with Felix. Or when someone was truly there for every part that was Felix. Even the ones that might not be visible to the someone who didn’t took their time to see Felix.
When he was finally finished taking in the man next to Chan the stranger spoke up again. “Minho likes to make fun of those, who were better raised than he was. It is not my fault my mother took care to teach me prober manners Minho Hyung. Maybe you should ask yourself why you are as feral, when it comes to basic etiquette, as the street cats you like to take in.”
The last sentence he had directed at Minho who only chuckled. “See? Even when he insults you, he is still prim and proper. Adorable. This is why I wanted you to meet my friends Hyunjin. I’m sure they are more than happy to deal with your well-bred rudeness”
Chan couldn’t help but laugh a little too. So this was Hyunjin. The Hyunjin, Minho had told him about a while ago. The man who was behind the Company called ‘Pleasure of Seoul’ that had sold him unbelievably well-made leather cuffs just weeks before. Not that everyone was ought to know that.
But when Minho had shown him pictures of the cuffs he had Hyunjin design him, there really had been no question of if Chan wanted some too, only a when. It hadn’t taken long for the cuffs to be delivered to his door step, since the artists who made his cuffs worked with leather himself.
Minho had told him his cuffs had taken longer, because the company had outsourced the metal work. Leathers cuffs however were the company’s specialty. Though it was hardly a company as Chan knew. It was a business, led by the same person it employed. A one man show, Minho had called it.
‘Pleasure of Seoul’ was a high quality BDSM Online shop that catered to every custom wish one might have. There was personal consultation, if one wanted it, but also the option to remain completely anonymous. Chan had spent hours clicking through the website before settling on a certain design and writing out a long paragraph on how we wanted the cuffs to be altered to his wishes. In the end it had taken only a few mails and some sketches the artist provided before they settled an agreement. After that it had only taken a few weeks before he could finally wrap the new leather cuffs around Felix wrists and ankles and appreciate how beautiful he looked in them.
He had thought about how often the artist who made the cuffs was actually able to see his work used. But he knew it would be highly inappropriate to provide a stranger with pictures of Felix, even if they were censored.
Now he was glad, because even though he loved sharing Felix, a feeling that had never stopped since they had started their little arrangement, it would have been highly embarrassing if the man mentioned it now.
“Hyunjin-ssi” he said, offering the man a handshake which was reciprocated quickly. “I’m Bahng Chan, it’s nice to meet you. Minho has told us about your work displayed here today. I must say it is very impressive.” He offered the man a kind smile and nearly stumbled from the brightness of the smile he got in return.
“Minho likes to overdo it. Its just paint and clay”, Hyunjin said, but Chan didn’t miss the slight blush that was adorning the pale cheeks now, that hadn’t been there a few seconds before.
Chan loved making people blush. It was the most beautiful thing Felix did, whenever Chan showered him in praise. Hyunjin however blushed differently to Felix. Where Felix grew shy and lowered his eyes in avoidance, Hyunjin stared openly back at Chan. Bold and unafraid, like he knew he was good and only tried to appear modest. Normally Chan hated people who were full of themselves, but the look of pure confidence Hyunjin wore was a sight to behold. It was so strong and Chan felt like the confidence he witnessed was something not easily won.
Confidence rarely came priceless, he knew. Felix was confident too: On the runway whenever he worked. People gushed and admired him for his easy-going personality and how he managed the fields hard conditions. But behind closed doors, Felix confidence could shatter and it took a lot of work to rebuild it. Felix saw the mistakes everyone else never saw. So no, Chan knew that most of the time, confidence was a mask people used to hide away their insecurities.
When Hyunjin turned his attention back to Felix Chan watched their interaction. The confidence Hyunjin portrayed so effortlessly left Felix visibly enraptured. Eyes wide Felix had all his attention on the man currently talking. Chan knew the look in Felix eyes very well. It was the same look Felix wore when Jisung showed him his newest ideas for a song or when I.N. explained him something he learned in his class that day. Felix was nothing if not a good listener and his gaze spoke of nothing but adoration as he listened to Hyunjin explaining the background to the exhibition they were standing in front of hight now.
“… so that’s why it isn’t for sale. See, no price? They will smash it when the exhibition is over. It is a symbolism of destroying the last part of the woman they never were right? The prints were all taken before they had gender affirmation surgery.”
~
Felix nodded along. It was an interesting background story to the piece they were looking at. And one, they might never know if Hyunjin wouldn’t be telling them. It definitely had it’s perks to know an exhibiting artist. He thought about inviting Minho over for dinner soon, as a thanks for knowing Hyunjin.
Once Hyunjin started to lead their little group through the gallery, he entertained them with little background information regarding the pieces they were standing in front. When they reached the part of the gallery, where the artist had chosen to remain anonyms Hyunjin fell quiet.
“This part of the gallery is the only place where shame and freedom go hand in hand.”, he said quietly, so quietly that only Felix and Chan were able to pick it up as they were standing directly next to him.
“Some might hide their names to hide their shame for what they have created. I know some of the artists are afraid that someone might discover who they are. Their parents, their friends or their neighbours. Some never want to show their face to the daylight, not their real face anyway.”
He led them past a photography of a quite explicit sex scene between multiple people, their faces not recognisable due to splashes of green paint.
The piece was named: Jealousy’s Green.
Past a sculpture of hands holding onto each other while stroking a cock in their middle. This piece didn’t have a name.
But not every painting was explicit or socially inept, as one might call it. Some portrayed people or just abstract swirls of colour without any real shape.
The painting Felix couldn’t just walk past, was a mix of both. Abstract darkness shaped into broad shoulders and a pale neck. Into hair that was glinting under the lights that seemed to come from nowhere. Light colours taking form in hands the held onto the dark back, gripping to hard Felix felt like he could feel the fabric under his own fingertips.
And there: over the left shoulder, where the face belonging to the hands should have been, there were only colours. All of them mixing and leaving something like a halo behind. A swirl of yellow centring like a sun, the rest, light blue and brown orbiting around it like someone tried to paint a face but ended up painting the galaxy. Like the person was more than a body, like he was something life giving, something indescribably.
Underneath the canvas there was a simple silver plaquette.
‘What do I feel?’
“An interesting name isn’t it?”, Hyunjin said. Felix jerked; he hadn’t realised everyone had circled back to him, when they realised he had been stuck staring at the painting in front of him.
“Yeah”, he croaked. He couldn’t explain why, but there was something about the painting that made him happy. Maybe the shape of the shoulders, curling protectively around the body that it was shielding from view. It reminded him of Chan, the way Chan curled around him to protect him from the harsh world, when it got too much. Chan who helped him be who he was, who never judged but only encouraged.
Chan.
“Well, what does it make you feel?” Minho asked. He had both arms wrapped around Jisung, who was standing in front of him. “I just feel darkness”, he added and buried his head in Jisung neck. “Horny”, Jisung mumbled, but Felix doubted that it was really the painting that woke those feelings in Jisung, gathering from the way Minho was nuzzling his friends throat.
Felix opened his mouth, but when he spoke he wasn’t the only one. Next to him Hyunjin had uttered a simple word, at the same time he had.
“Freedom”
Lelaix on Chapter 2 Tue 05 Aug 2025 05:45PM UTC
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threewalls on Chapter 2 Tue 05 Aug 2025 06:11PM UTC
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