Prompt: "Painter and Muse."

Pairing: Sehun/Luhan

Words: ~1400

Dedicated to -Jello-.

Luhan has, and always will be, Sehun’s greatest muse.

With wide, chocolate brown eyes, eyelashes curled perfectly that accentuated porcelain skin, which matched the marble bust of many a masterpiece, Luhan was the thing Sehun set aside from all the others he had painted. Any painting he worked on of Luhan had to be completely perfect, or he didn’t do the original justice.

Luhan is the muse Sehun would spend hours talking to Baekhyun of on the phone, the one he would stay up late at night tapping frantically on his keyboard about. He is the romantic concept, the phantom that appears in Sehun’s dreams and the thought that wakes him with a smile on his face. Luhan is his and his only.

A muse must be first and foremost gifted, but also young and fresh. Luhan is just that. With such a sweet and playful disposition, Luhan had caught Sehun’s attention from first glance. Although slightly older than the painter himself, Luhan was the epitome of youthful radiance. His hair a light cinnamon halo that framed his feminine features just so, short in stature though with an athletic bodyline that screamed health.

Luhan was able to fit into any surrounding perfectly. A woodland forest of emerald green, the deep blue and fresh reflectiveness of an open lake; even against the bleak greys of the high-rise buildings that had risen around Sehun’s quiet retreat. Luhan could wear any colour, from the lavender hues that gave him an otherworldly quality to the deep crimson reds that brought out his fine, pouty lips. Luhan was as changeable as the sea.

“When will I meet this muse of yours?” Baekhyun asks one day, over the telephone.

He had planned to come over, but Sehun had refused. He was not one for visitors, even if he had known them for many a year. He preferred to be left to his own devices in relative silence, save the cars that buzzed past his busy apartment block.

But that was not the only reason he had refused.

No one could meet Luhan but Sehun himself. Luhan was like a secret, a letter in cursive script from a past lover to be locked away in a small chest and placed in the attic to be covered in dust, a fine thing that could be brought out years later and remembered. Something personal, something unique that held beauty for all eternity.

But Baekhyun comes over unannounced, and Sehun cannot hide from him his muse.

“So this is Luhan?” Baekhyun asks, eyes scanning the boy. Luhan’s doe eyes stare back at him with unreserved warmth, and Baekhyun lets out a small smile, his eyes glazing over in something unreadable.

“This is marvelous indeed. Though I would love to see the original.”

“He’s not finished yet,” Sehun breathes.

Sehun uses a dark pencil to trace on a final border of Luhan’s waistcoat, the colours almost fluorescent on the crisp white canvas. There are hues of red, blue, green, yellow, burnt embers in the background as a sun dips below a hill, casting rainbows in the sky. Luhan is in Victorian dress; a simple heavy coat over long trousers and a simple yet voluptuously layered shirt, tie running down his milky skin. Luhan takes up a good portion of the canvas, and it is safe for Baekhyun to say the background was simply an afterthought.

“Where is your muse, I’d love to meet him,” Baekhyun presses, once again. Sehun simply shakes his head.

“You can’t.”

Baekhyun gives a small nod of understanding, making his way towards Sehun’s messy kitchen. Coffee cups and plastic boxes house the bench, flecks of rice mixed in with used teabags and the mess of spices Sehun has left behind.

“This place could use a clean up,” Baekhyun calls, tilting his head beyond the doorframe to catch a glimpse of his friend. Sehun grunts a response, hands still running over the canvas, the younger entranced.

This is his finest work to date.

Baekhyun busies himself with a tea towel, running it over the top of the bench and scooping Sehun’s rubbish into a bin. He knows exactly how Sehun gets when he has a rush of inspiration, and it leaves him in less than amiable living conditions. Without Baekhyun being there, Sehun would never eat properly or live in a proper manner. He barely gets enough sleep as it is.

“Come away from the painting,” Baekhyun says, bringing out two steaming mugs of cocoa. When Sehun doesn’t respond, he drags the boy from the room, an arm on his shoulder.

“I need to work!” Sehun complains.

Baekhyun merely chuckles, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror before fixing his eyeliner. He passes Sehun a mug and the latter nods, curling his fingers around the newfound warmth. Baekhyun can see his index fingers and thumbs have harsh callouses on them and he wishes his friend would rest himself every now and then.

“Why can’t I meet your famous muse?” Baekhyun asks, to which Sehun has no response.

Baekhyun can see the clogs in the younger’s brain turning. His eyes look distant as he runs an anxious hand through his dyed blonde hair. Sehun has always been a little eccentric, but that has always been why Baekhyun has stuck around him for so long.

What makes someone a muse, Sehun thinks to himself. It is not the bad but the good elements that define a muse. A muse is an idealized being that inspires expression and art. A muse is something you long to meet, to bond with, to become one with, though in reality you will likely never get the fortune of doing so.

But Sehun is lucky. He doesn’t have to meet Luhan, for Luhan is his and his only.

“You’ll never be able to meet him,” Sehun says simply, sipping on his cocoa. Baekhyun sighs, nodding nevertheless.

“I understand. Some of the people you paint are private, and I understand that. Though, I have to admit, Luhan is much different to all of your other muses. You have talked more of him than you have of anyone ever before, Sehun. It’s getting… overbearing? Sorry, that was the wrong term. What I’m trying to say is that he seems to dominate your thoughts, Sehun…”

A pause.

“Are you sure this obsession is healthy?”

Sehun gives his friend a knowing smile, lifting himself off the couch to return to his previous position, before the easel. Baekhyun notices he has flecks of paint across his nose, giving the impression he has freckles of the spectrum. It is almost as if his alabaster skin has become a makeshift canvas itself. Sehun’s eyes cloud over in concentration. Baekhyun completely recognizes that look. He lets out a sigh of resignation, patting Sehun on the back before clearing out the mugs and retracing his steps until he’s back by the front door, umbrella in hand as he tugs his coat closer to his body.

Baekhyun finds himself back in Sehun’s apartment two weeks later, stumbling across a teen with sleepy eyes that have dark bags underneath them. Sehun’s jawbone juts out far too much to be normal, and Baekhyun is quick to call for Chinese to be delivered from the small restaurant down the street.

“How long has it been since you last ate?” Baekhyun asks.

No response.

Sehun stands before a finished painting. It must be finished by now, Baekhyun believes, since he hasn’t ripped it to shreds like all the others he has tried to paint and refused to like. Baekhyun finds anything Sehun paints a work of art, though Sehun is a perfectionist, and as such near enough is simply not good enough.

“I completed it,” Sehun says, voice dreamy.

“I can see that,” Baekhyun responds, forcing chopsticks into the younger’s hands.

“Eat.”

Sehun’s eyes do not for a second leave the painting. He pushes the food away and sits on the floor, cross-legged, eyes simply staring at the colourful canvas before him.

“Does Luhan know how long you stare at him?” Baekhyun asks, melodious laughter in his voice. Sehun shrugs, wiping paint off his arm.

That is the second it clicks for Baekhyun. He watches over as Sehun stares wantonly at his work of art, every now and then a sigh escaping his lips. Baekhyun has never seen Sehun like this before; he looks somehow… broken? Lost?

Baekhyun’s cheeks are taut as he bites his lips, the life drained completely out of his face.

Luhan isn’t real.