As he’s apparently free to enter and leave the canvas without problems, Seungyoon decides to move the painting in his studio. He doesn’t want to scary his mother with a casual meeting in their house and he’s not sure that guy can be alone, as he doesn’t know anything of the world.

He likes the studio, Seungyoon finds out. “It’s where I was made, it’s like home”, he says and Seungyoon laughs.

“From now on, it’s yours”.

They spend many days there, together. Seungyoon tells his mother he’s working on a new piece, but what he really does is being with him.

Seungyoon uses that time to study him. He moves his hands a lot and when he laughs he bends his back and bobs his head - that’s so unexpected, because usually he’s quite dignified and serious, but as soon as he smiles he warms up and loses the control of his body.

Seungyoon likes this a lot. He didn’t paint that trait: under his hand and his brush he was just a figure made of oil colors. Seungyoon doesn’t know what sparkle of life made him like this, but he finds himself glad he’s there, alive, a human being who is finding his own colors. Even if that means he’ll soon become like everyone else: an independent person with his life and his choices.

And not the portrait he once painted.

He actually doesn’t talk a lot. The first day Seungyoon met him was also the day he spoke the most.

He likes to watch him sketching, though. He just sits in his studio, on the couch, and listens to him. He’s very curious and receptive and asks Seungyoon to talk about everything he wants. Seungyoon tells him new details of his life he hasn’t revealed, how to paint, the meaning behind his style, what colors he prefers, how he loves black and white - and blank canvas too, because he can fill them with himself -, what is music and who are his favorite singers. He talks about books and stories, about famous painters, Van Gogh and his brother Theo, about the japanese occupation and the korean war, the politic, who is running the country, what is a country and how small it is to the rest of the world.

Seungyoon tells him a lot and when he doesn’t know and he asks him for more, he just advices him to read while he paints. Seungyoon teaches him how to do it, actually, how to spell words and write, how to pronounce better.

He tells him of the vastness of the universe, how their planet is just a small drop in a big black silent ocean and how they are two little flames in that tiny, precious spot called earth. He speaks of galaxies, the milky way, the sun, the stars. At that time, he asks him if they can see them from there and Seungyoon nods.

“I’ll show you”.

They go out that night. Seungyoon drives as he explains him how a car works, or at least try to. He has already forgotten what he studied for the driving licence exam.

He stops the car when they are far enough from the city centre.

When he looks up to the sky and smiles like a child, his eyes bright and watery, his mouth wide opened, Seungyoon looks at him. He forgets about the stars and their shimmering beauty.

“All this time we didn’t really had a proper conversation about one thing”, he breaks the silence. “But you know my name is Seungyoon… everyone has a name at this world. Even if you didn’t say aloud, I know you’re curious to know yours. It’s not like you ever had one, though; I didn’t have the need to call you, you were just you all this time. It doesn’t seem fair anymore”.

He looks at him, hesitating. “I- I think so”.

“You can pick whatever you want”.

He frowns. “I wouldn’t be able to, it’s not like you chose your name, it was your parents making the decision for you. I want you to pick one”.

Seungyoon doesn’t know how to convey all the things he feels, all the moments they shared in just one name. A beautiful one, it must be.

“Tae…”, he pauses. “Taehyun?”

“Taehyun”, he repeats after him, smiling.

He’s more independent than Seungyoon thought.

He has learnt how to cook - just the basis, in the small kitchen he has in his studio, which is there in case of a desperate hunger at night - and he already has a good mindset, after a bunch of books he has read without interruption for two weeks.

He’s still a toddler, Seungyoon thinks, but when he looks at Taehyun he sees a man, and not because his body is fully grown. Seungyoon start to think that he was already an adult when he got out of the painting. He was already Taehyun, he just needed some more informations to behave properly, as a person of this world.

That’s odd, but Seungyoon isn’t surprised anymore, not after he actually became a real person.

Seungyoon feels empty. Everytime he sees him, Taehyun is getting more confident, more real, more- just more.

“I went to the shop this morning, all by myself”.

Seungyoon turns his head, opens his eyes and looks at him, standing tall and proud. He wants to show off, but Seungyoon can’t see the funny side of it. He’s still trapped in those feelings he has from the beginning. “You’re all grown-up, it’s time to get a job now”.

Taehyun wavers. He bites his lips and ruffles his hair.

“I was kidding, don’t worry. You can have more time”, Seungyoon says, but his voice sounds forced.

“Actually I… I think I have an idea, a project of mine”, he pauses and looks into his eyes and Seungyoon can feel his chest hurting, “but I’m not sure, not yet, so I’ll tell you when I’m ready”.

Seungyoon nods and pats the spot at his right, inviting him to seat on the couch.

Taehyun does as he’s told.

“Before that”, Seungyoon hesitates and Taehyun fixes his eyes on him, once again. Seungyoon raises his hand and tugs some of his locks behind his ear. His thumb lingers on his earlobe and Taehyun shivers, smiling awkwardly. “Before that, I have to tell you something”.

Taehyun looks at him eagerly. He can reads his face as he does with his mother: everything is there, even if he might look cool, he can see each change of emotions right there. Taehyun truly wants to know.

“But not today”, Seungyoon finishes.

Taehyun goes out by himself without problems and lives his own life, now.

He likes to go to the library and stay in there for a long time, admiring the shelves full of books and inhaling the old scent of ink and yellow paper. He enjoys to walk even if that year the winter is hard and the cold cuts the skin of his face. He loves to eat sweet melon bread and drink hot green tea.

He has his own tastes. Seungyoon knows that, he always knew that.

On Christmas Eve Seungyoon decides to tell him everything.

He waits for Taehyun, which is out, probably mesmerized by the lights and decorations all around the city. Seungyoon sits on that sagged couch, biting the skin of his knuckles till it’s raw. He doesn’t really know how to express what he feels with words and he thinks he’s gonna forget the speech he’s repeating in his mind anyway. Taehyun never fails to make him stutter.

When he comes back it’s already late, maybe 10 PM. As soon as he enters Seungyoon can smell chestnuts, smoke, chocolate, sweat and -- snow?

“It’s snowing outside, did you see?”, Taehyun whispers, not hiding is excitement.

Seungyoon says he didn’t. “I was waiting for you”.

Taehyun sits at his left, sighing and taking off his coat. “Did you?”, he asks softly. “I was taken aback by all the things out there, there were so many stands out there, each one selling so many things. Some were rubbish, but others were very pretty or useful”. He looks at him, but Seungyoon stares at the rooftop, breathing unevenly.

“And- but your hands!”, Taehyun raises his voice, grabbing his hands and gently his knuckles.

“It’s ok”, Seungyoon whispers, still not looking at him.

There is silence between them and Seungyoon, for once, doesn’t like it. Inside him there is only noise: words to say, feelings to speak up, and Taehyun, always Taehyun filling up his mind.

“Tomorrow is Christmas. It’s common use to give some presents to the people you care about, your friends, your relatives…”, Seungyoon pauses, looking at their holding hands. “I want to give you something”.

Taehyun nods.

“I- I want to tell you something. That’s my present: my sincerity”.

Taehyun looks nervous, now. Seungyoon tightens his grasp, his skin warm against his cold fingers.

“Can I ask you just one thing?”

Seungyoon allows him.

“Let me talk first. You may change your mind”, Taehyun says.

“I probably won’t. I think I know what you want to say… just tell me”.

Taehyun his palm, his eyes fixed on his lap, his lips trembling. “I”, he starts. “I’m very fond of reading, as you know. Each book is a new world full of people and their stories, their struggles, their failures and their successes - and every day you paint you make your own world on those canvas, as you made me. I want to do something like that too”.

Seungyoon looks at him: his profile is perfect, his eyelashes casting long shadows under his eyes, his pink full mouth moving as he speaks, his red hair framing his face. So beautiful.

“But I’m not like you - I can’t stay two, three days on a chair, painting my ideas with colors and brushes; I can’t see those things you always have in your mind, mine is black and grey and without true imagination”.
“I want- I really want to travel. To know the world we live in and see what I’ve read - those cities the writers described, the white nights at St. Petersburg, the lions of the savanna, the town of Tom Sawyer, Peter Pan’s London, the desert… everything”, Taehyun ends his speech with a sigh.

Seungyoon holds his hands, without speaking. It must hurt, as his skin is white for the pressure and Taehyun winces, but he doesn’t want to let him go. Not yet.

“I know”, he finally says. “And I love you”.

Taehyun nods. Even if they didn’t talk, they both were aware of the other one, always, and the things they’re saying aren’t very surprising.

“I thought I was good at lying and faking”, Seungyoon laughs. “But I guess you can’t really hide your feelings”.

Taehyun looks at him and Seungyoon copies him. “You’ve been the only one for so many months, of course I always observed you”.

“You must know I don’t like you as a friend, or a… creator?”, he scorns, “Or something else”.

Taehyun shallows. “I’ve read in some books you gave me and some others I read in the library”. He avoids his eyes, half-smiling in awkwardness.

“You don’t have to worry, I just wanted to say it aloud. You don’t have to think about it or, I don’t know, hesitate or feel guilty for something. It was all my doing and it actually started before you came out from that canvas, so it’s really my fault”.

“I don’t think so”, Taehyun whispers, his eyes closed. His cheeks are red - Seungyoon thinks: of a al red, and he smiles at the tricks his mind plays. “I was, I always wanted you to love me. I don’t know how to explain it, but as you were painting me, I was grateful you were creating me and I wished you could not forget me for a long time. When you spoke to me, I wanted you to keep talking. I think I somehow always longed for your approval. That’s why I needed to tell you about my project. And even if I’m gonna leave, I still want to give you one last gift”.

He opens his eyes and fixes him. Seungyoon feels his heart beating faster, as Taehyun looks at him fiercely, his glance darker than he remembers, more confident than before.

Taehyun leans closer and Seungyoon frees one of his hand to stop him, but he wavers and Taehyun, just few inches from his lips, softly tells him a small “don’t” that makes his resolution fade away.

Seungyoon knows this is not a good thing, but he closes his eyes and welcomes his kiss.

His lips are smooth and wet and his mouth is hot.

His body is hard, though, just muscles, skin and bones; full of sharp and white angles. His , Seungyoon finds out, is the only soft spot - but he must be worse, skinny as he is, without even the hint of fat or muscle to cover up his build.

As Taehyun kisses him, Seungyoon sees a new world under his eyelids. Pink, orange and yellow - a mixture of bright colors he wants to grasp and paint, but more than anything else he just wants to treasure.

As he takes Taehyun, everything turns red. His face, colored by the effort, and his lips, shining in that right moment; his messy hair on his forehead and his eyebrows; and the chest he has covered with hickeys.

When they come together, the black of the night is the last thing he remembers.

The morning of Christmas, a new handmade brush is laid on his worktable.

Seungyoon knows Taehyun isn’t there anymore without even looking around.
All that is left is the white of his empty spot and the snow covering the streets, filling up his absence.