The canvas is a glaring, unforgiving white, staring back at him in an almost judging way. Baekhyun sits on the paint-spattered stool by the window, palette on the table beside him, brushes and knives and turpentine laid out for his use.

Except they’re just sitting there now, sitting there all clean and pristine and unused. They’re mocking him almost as much as the blank canvas is, taunting him to just pick them up and use them. His fingers are itching but his brain isn’t cooperating. There’s just no inspiration. He doesn’t know what to paint.

He went through a still life phase a few months back. He spent every day staring at flower arrangements and bowls of fake fruit and fabric draped over boxes. Then he suddenly realized that still life paintings are among the most boring ever created and, with a closet full of them that he was unable to sell, he decided he better find something more interesting to paint.

After the still life phase came landscapes and seascapes. But since he lives in the middle of a bustling city, he doesn’t have much opportunity to go out and paint from real life. He’d tried to take a few trips out to the countryside or the beach once or twice, but he’s not an outdoorsy type of person and he didn’t like getting dirty and sweaty and windswept. And it felt dishonest painting from a photograph, so he didn’t linger long on that phase.

He’s good at painting, he knows. He’s won contests and awards. He’s even got some paintings hanging up in some pretty important places. But there is nothing worth painting in his life right now, and what’s a painter with no inspiration? Just another wannabe.

Baekhyun groans and turns away from the antagonizing canvas, choosing to look out the window instead. It’s early morning, and the sounds of traffic and pedestrians filter into his apartment. It’s already sunny even though it’s early, the light reflecting off the buildings and the cars the crawl like ants along the street below. There’s a warm breeze wafting through the wilting flowers in the box beneath his window, and it’s refreshing after the stale lack of inspiration.

He finds himself staring at the apartment building across the street. The window of the apartment directly across from his is open, the occupant probably enjoying the warm spring afternoon just like Baekhyun is. There’s a potted fern in the window and a cup of coffee, still hot enough that Baekhyun can make out the steam from all the way across the street.

He sits there, idly contemplating moving to another country in the hopes that he might get some much-needed creativity. In the apartment across the way, someone steps to the window to retrieve the cup of coffee.

Though Baekhyun has lived in this apartment for almost two years now, he can’t recall ever seeing this man before. Because if he had, he would definitely remember. This guy is tall, taller than Baekhyun even though he’s got a younger face. He’s slim and it’s obvious even from across the street that he’s got a good build. He’s got hair that’s been dyed blonde and thin lips pressed into a tight line. He’s absolutely breathtaking.

Baekhyun doesn’t really comprehend that he’s moving until he’s sitting at his easel, enough paint on the canvas to take the vague outline of a man.

Once he starts, there’s no stopping. He works all day, not stopping to eat or drink, barely stopping to go to the bathroom. Eventually he pauses to get a few hours of sleep and to scarf down a haphazardly-made sandwich in the tiny kitchen, and then he’s back at his easel well before dawn.

It takes him less than a week to complete what he deems his most amazing painting yet, and only a few days before he’s sold it for quite a hefty price. He contemplates going across the street and offering to buy the guy dinner for being such a fabulous muse, but he thinks that crosses the line into creepy and so he doesn’t.

But even with his latest painting sold and hanging in somebody else’s home, he can’t get the image of the man in the apartment across the way out of his mind. And so he takes to sitting at the window in the vain hope that he might spot the blonde beauty again.

It’s a few weeks before he sees the man again. He must be very busy, because Baekhyun always seems to have his eyes on the apartment’s window. But eventually this strange, unknown muse appears again. This time his hair is pink, and Baekhyun is surprised by how much he appreciates this burst of color in time for summer.

This time, the stranger sits at his window for a while, wearing a sleeveless shirt that reveals pale, toned arms. He sips at bubble tea, chewing on the plastic straw, and flips through a dog-eared copy of a book of poetry.

He sits there long enough for Baekhyun to get a good first layer of his next painting down.

This painting sells for an even higher price, to be displayed at a museum of contemporary art. Baekhyun finds that the allure of the stranger is, for once, more than the allure of being famous.

The next time he sees the stranger, it’s in the height of summer and it’s absolutely unbearable. Everyone on the block has their windows thrown open to try and tempt a cooling breeze in. The sound of electric fans is almost overwhelming.

Baekhyun’s neighbor from across the way settles himself right in his window, all long legs and arms. He sits on the windowsill, shirtless, drinking iced tea and fanning himself with a packet of papers that he appears to have given up on studying from. He’s got headphones draped around his neck, and Baekhyun longs to know what kind of music he’s listening to.

This time, Baekhyun keeps the painting for himself. This stranger has become something more than just a pretty subject to put on canvas. Baekhyun begins dreaming about him at night, wondering personal things about him. He has to firmly remind himself that he doesn’t actually know this person. Sure he could go across to the next building and introduce himself, but if that isn’t creepy then he doesn’t know what is.

Summer fades into fall and the beautiful stranger appears at his window more and more often. Always Baekhyun sits and stares, careful to memorize everything so he can paint picture after picture, of varying sizes and moods. He makes sure to capture every expression he’s ever seen on the stranger’s face: happiness, sadness, anger. Once he even managed to catch the stranger sleeping, and that’s a painting he’s sure he’s never going to sell.

Even when he sees the stranger with a woman, tangled together so intimately as they make their way back to the bedroom, Baekhyun doesn’t look away even though it hurts. He forces himself to paint, because that expression of lust is too beautiful to forget. So he paints it onto one of his blank canvases and stores it away because it’s a little too painful to look at often.

Winter brings with it the snow and Baekhyun is forced to keep his windows shut against the bitter chill. He’s always hated winter, but now he hates it more than ever because the frost always dusting the glass keeps him from seeing the stranger across the way. And his neighbor keeps his windows shut too, so Baekhyun goes for months without getting a single glimpse. He doesn’t paint anything during this time, either.

He’s practically dying from excitement and curiosity when the snows finally melt and warm weather comes again. He throws open his windows before it’s really warm enough and waits anxiously at the window for a glimpse of his muse.

It’s late spring before the windows in the apartment across the street open again, and Baekhyun is alarmed to see that it’s not his beautiful stranger who does so but a pretty woman with long hair and smiling eyes. As she stands at the window, enjoying the warmth of the morning, a man who is not Baekhyun’s muse joins her, holding a little boy in his arms. A happy little family, and a family that does not include the stranger Baekhyun is obsessing over.

It takes him another few weeks before he gathers the courage to go across the street. He’s nervous, practically shaking in his shoes, but he knocks on the door.

It’s the pretty woman who answers, a lock of dark hair falling across her pale forehead. “Yes?” she says politely. “Can I help you?”

Baekhyun swallows the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. I have a…strange question.” She looks at him expectantly, so he’s forced to continue. “The guy who was living here before…do you by any chance know where he’s gone?”

The woman looks confused for a second, and then her face lights up. “Wait, are you the painter who lives across the street?” she asks, excited.

Baekhyun blinks a few times, confused. “Ah, well, yes…I suppose I am.”

“The boy who lived here before left a letter for you!” she exclaims. “He asked us to give it to you if you ever stopped by. Hold on a second!” She disappears and returns a minute later with a sealed envelope in hand. The outside is blank. “Here you go!” she chirps. “I hope this helps!”

Baekhyun is terrified to open it, so he waits until he’s safely in his apartment. Even then, he’s still shaking. It’s after dark by the time he gathers the courage to actually open the envelope.

Inside is a single piece of looseleaf notebook paper, with a tidy sort of scrawl in blue ink. “Hi,” Baekhyun reads to himself. “As you’ve probably already noticed, I’ve moved and I no longer live across the street from you. What you probably haven’t noticed is that you’re not exactly inconspicuous when you sit at your window and stare. But you’re usually so busy painting that you never really seem to notice when I’m staring back. My number is 010-4727-3854. I’d like to see some of your paintings sometimes. Sehun.” The note is ended with a little heart. 

for: xXmysteriousXx

prompt: Baekhyun's a painter. Sehun's his muse. 

fanart credit: MinBuns