Brush me Gold

Baekhyun was an artist.

But that was just a title, no? He was more than that. He was a master of colours and complimentary combinations, a wielder of emotion through paint dyed to a tip of horse hair tightly nit to a wooden wand – magic filling une toile vierge, a blank canvas.

Biting his tongue, Baekhyun delicately swiped a of silver across the board, which sparkled for a few minutes before reverting to the matte-like appearance of drying paint. He was working on his next art project, for the theme of “Silver Lining” that his professor assigned. Although this was Baekhyun’s first year in Canada’s finest Art University in Vancouver, he quickly made a name for himself for being one of the most promising artists on campus. What’s even more impressive is he barely knew English. Well, aside from the simple but broken conversational talks he’s had with random people praising his artwork.

In fact, these little snippets of interaction with onlookers were the closest thing he’s had to friendship here in Canada. This wasn’t a surprise, considering he had been a quiet nerd back in Korea. He didn’t really know how to talk to people period, regardless of the language barrier.

This all seemed to be ever more true when he saw a new worker at the Starbucks on campus. He recognized his face – pale, porcelain, and absolutely picture-perfect. Every feature was neatly in place and proportionate. And his ruffled, dyed blonde hair, which Baekhyun could never guess if it was ruffled on purpose or not. On his Starbucks apron was a nametag, reading “Luhan”. He must be Chinese, Baekhyun thought.

In what seemed to be a few blinks, Baekhyun was already next in line.

“Hi, welcome to Starbucks! What would you like?” A baseless, operational phrase, yet so beautifully spoken, like the fluent of a talented artist.

“Um…” Baekhyun forgot the drink he wanted to order, despite him ordering that very same drink everyday for the past week. He looked at Luhan, who was smiling patiently. His beauty was radiant.

Someone coughed impatiently behind him.

            “Er, should I give you some time to think about it?” Luhan asked again. “Or I could always recommend a drink!”

Baekhyun nodded uncomfortably.

“OK, well in that case, I’ll give you my favourite… a Venti Vanilla Bean Frappuccino with whipped cream!” He smiled. His teeth shone even in the dim light of the store. “Please wait over there!”

Baekhyun did as he said, walking with a slightly defeated attitude towards the cash register. He was a little stunned at the cost of the drink Luhan had chosen for him, but then he remembered that he was the one that surrendered and it wasn’t Luhan’s fault for being a good employee and ushering along a clueless customer. Sigh. Byun Baekhyun, what is wrong with you. Why are you so stupid!

He took a seat at a table outside, drink in hand. It was actually really good. He mixed the drink with his straw, with the hands of an artist, neatly styling the whip cream in a way that accentuated its texture.

“Like it?” A familiar, silky voice asked from behind.

Baekhyun froze, maybe because of the giant gulp he just took of his frosty drink or maybe because of the voice from behind that paralyzed him like a dose of anaesthetic. Luhan sat jollily across from him on the two-seater table comfortably.

“I’m off my shift now. Sorry if the drink I ordered was too expensive. I really do like it though!”

“I… me too…” Baekhyun said shyly, trailing off. Come on, Baek. Get yourself together. Say something interesting. Go! “You… I like your hair!” He blurted out.

Luhan chuckled and flashed the cutest eye smile Baekhyun has ever seen, his eyes turning into crescent shaped moons and his eyes glistening in the sunlight like stars. Through it all, Baekhyun could tell it was sincere. Luhan was pure.

“Actually, I think it’s pretty damaged! I dye it a lot.” Luhan ruffled his hair even more with his hands. “I don’t think you should dye your hair though! Black suits you.”

“Thanks.”

“Are… wait a minute. You’re that new Korean transfer student from Korea, right? You’re really good painter guy!" Baekhyun nodded. Luhan laughed. “I actually saw some of your paintings on display on my way to class once. I really liked your drawing with the two Golden Eagles. It was perfect! I almost thought they were real for a second there!” Luhan couldn’t stop smiling.

“It… I am reminded of you!” Baekhyun tried expressing his thoughts of gratitude, “The gold… your hair… cute!”

            Luhan laughed harder this time. “No, I think you’re cute.”

            Baekhyun felt his face flush with hot blood. “Thank you…”

            “What’s your name?”

            “Uh… Byun Baekhyun…”

            “Cool name.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Well, I have to go to class now. See you! I’ll be waiting for your next piece of art on display in the school gallery!”

He skipped away simultaneously with Baekhyun’s heart which skipped a beat. Although Baekhyun was never much of a talker, it allowed him to be more analytic of others. As a result, he could accurately detect the fake and vice in other people. But Luhan had none of that, absolutely none. His heart, like his smile, was clear as a spring day. This was not infatuation, and it wasn’t the urban mythological notion of love-at-first-sight. No, this was definitely not a cliché. It wouldn’t change if Baekhyun had known Luhan for several years instead of several minutes. Luhan was magnetic. And Baekhyun had never met someone so enchanting, so beautiful, so cheerful and innocent and pure.

Luhan was a blank canvas that should never be painted.

~

When Baekhyun went back to his dorm that afternoon to continue on his art project, he immediately threw out his previous canvas with of silver and black and white.

He pulled out a can of gold paint from his box of paints and took out his favourite paintbrush. Washing it quickly, he placed a new board of blank canvas on his aisle. White, pure, clean, but strangely, not empty. It was Luhan. And Baekhyun was the painter. For once in his life, Baekhyun would not be the passive boy that let potential friendships and relationships pass him by like he was some unwanted colour on the shelf of an old paint depot. He wasn’t a colour – he was the artist. He called the shots. He was the master of his life. He had the power to decide how his life should be painted, and nobody needed to choose him to do it.

Jabbing his paintbrush into the can of gold paint, Baekhyun passionately it across the blank canvas with vigour and a little bit of ferocity, but not an ugly kind of ferocity. It was that type of beautiful ferocity that was admired and loved and not feared, like the ferocity of a lover claiming its partner in a proposal.

~

“Baekhyun, I’m confused and surprised,” said his professor. “The theme this time was ‘Silver Lining’ in the metaphorical sense, not in the literal sense. Even if you were trying to be literal, the isn’t even silver. It’s gold.”

“I know”, Baekhyun said confidently. “I know.”

His professor sighed. “I’ll have to see your write-up tomorrow to understand what went through your mind when you did this. All of your other works were so sophisticated and complex – this was a shock. I’ll still have it displayed nonetheless, but only because your works have been acknowledged so many times before to be brilliant that your reputation and mine would not be tarnished by such a simple and primitive painting.”

~

The next day, Baekhyun found himself at the campus Starbucks again, sitting across from Luhan after his shift, each with a Vanilla Bean Frap in their hands.

“Did you see my project?” Baekhyun asked eagerly.

“Of course, I pass by the gallery everyday.” Luhan took a quick sip of his drink, his cheeks puffing up adorably. He swished the drink in his mouth a few times and his straw like a puppy. What a precious being. “I loved it.”

Baekhyun smiled. “You are the first person to tell me that since I’ve posted it.”

“Tell me something, Byun Baekhyun.” Luhan shifted in his seat and his face turned relatively serious. “Do you like me?”

“I…” Baekhyun’s world came crashing down. What if Luhan didn’t like him back? What if he didn’t feel the same way? Would they stop being friends? Would they stop seeing each other? Is he being too paranoid, thinking Luhan would do such a thing? Will history repeat itself like for every other person he’s tried making a connection with throughout his life? Was he being a fool thinking he was the artist of his own life?”

“It’s okay,” Luhan said, noticing the worry in Baekhyun’s face. “I won’t bite! I know the way you look at me, Baekhyun. If only you could notice the way I look back at you. Although everyone appreciates you and your work, you need to first appreciate yourself. How can an artist not love himself before he expects people to love his work?”

“Luhan… I do like you.” Baekhyun said this with all the courage he could sum up with his heart and body and soul, with his eyes shut closed as tight as he could, bracing for the worst.

Then he felt a hand on his own. It was silky and soft, like the tip of a paintbrush.

“Baekhyun, it’s okay.” Luhan’s voice reverberated into from his voice to his hand, to Baekhyun’s hand, to his soul, making a ripple in a pool of gold paint.

“It… is it really okay?”

He opened his eyes and stared at the boy with ruffled hair who had been marked with a of paint, a canvas that was now marked by Baekhyun’s own hands, a streak of gold, just like his blonde, tousled hair, glowing in the day, competing with the sun. He was a master, an artist, but also the culprit responsible for making a of colour on a beautifully blank canvas whose purity seemed to beckon painters of all kinds, who were lured into its trap but too afraid to tarnish its strangely empty perfection. Baekhyun was not one of those people this time. He had made a .

“Don’t worry Baekhyun! You’re the painter here.”

“I-I don’t know what to do…”

Luhan immediately shot up from his seat and planted his lips on Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun’s eyes widened in shock, but his eyelids slowly retreated back down in comfort.  Time stopped. Baekhyun knew this memory and this feeling would be encapsulated in his heart forever. After what seemed to be eternity, they finally separated.

Baekhyun stayed looking shocked and touched his lips gently with his fingers with disbelief. He looked up at Luhan, who smiled guiltily, looking shameless and bubbly. Baekhyun felt like he was filled with colour, with vibrancy. Luhan was just as much of an artist as he was.

Baekhyun had found his colour. And Luhan was his canvas.