The softness of the paint gave way to the rough surface of the canvas as Jiyong tried to make sure that there were no white spaces left. Blue and red in a variety of shades and tints were smeared across it, the edges mingling with the thin coating of oil that covered the previously blank expanse. With dimensions of about twelve square feet, it was in no way a small project. But finally, finally Jiyong had found in himself, a small part that wanted to feel what it was like to feel the paint under his fingertips, the colours mixing into multitudes of hues that he couldn’t name, the image slowly appearing as he worked by , with fingers, brushes, Q-tips, and whatever else caught his fancy at that moment.

And so, he painted. Going around the island on which the canvas lay, to reach it all. Sure, he could have put it up on an easel, but not on that day. He was in the mood to let the paint do the thinking, and for him, that meant a horizontally placed canvas, not a vertical one. Deep blue filled the upper length, with streaks of violet and purple running through it. The lower half was reddish in contrast, whispers of orange and yellow floating over it. Jiyong supposed it looked like the dawn. Or dusk. He wasn’t sure. There was no sun, just the sky, for now.

“What would you like to be?” he asked the yet unfinished work. To no one’s surprise, there was no answer. Still, Jiyong looked disappointed. He stepped back to look at it, or glare it into answering, and the doorbell rang. Scrubbing the paint from his fingers on one of his old towels, he opened the door.

“Did you start already?” Seunghyun nodded at his hands while nudging off his shoes.

“Yeah, I’ve been at it since…six? I suppose.” As if the other man’s presence had finally made him aware of the passage of time, Jiyong suddenly felt the ache in his arms and shoulder and lower back and the soles of his feet.

Seunghyun looked at his watch, the plastic bag with the takeaway box swinging lightly at the movement. “You’ve been working for the last four and a half hours, Ji.”

“…Right.” For some reason Jiyong felt small. As if he should have noticed how long it had been, despite the fact that he hadn’t replaced the batteries of his clocks since God-knows-when, and his phone was also who-knows-where. All he needed were the songs that played, to have a tempo to paint along with, and sips of water in between. But still, the only way he was allowed by his friends and family to be so disconnected from everyone, was with the promise of taking care of himself. How could he not have-

A hand ruffling his hair brought him back. “Go, wash your hands properly. I’ll heat this up for you.”

“No!” Jiyong pulled back.

The older man flinched for a fraction of a second before schooling his expression. “Okay.”

Jiyong shook his head, “No… I mean, I was working there… I’ll take you.”

“Oh, alright.” He smiled, then grinned. “Let’s go!”

The food was snatched from his hand, fingers took its place instead and tugged.

However, as soon as they entered the kitchen, the fingers twitched away, and hands pushed Seunghyun towards the island. “Oi! No paint near this suit! I just got it cleaned last week.”
 

“Sure, sure. Go look.”

Jiyong had often wondered if his phone was sentient, or if it was something about Seunghyun that did something to it. Just as Seunghyun took a step, the music that had been playing since he woke up, or even before then, came to an end, and the silence made the approach feel like a scene out of a drama.

He kept the food on the counter and watched as the older man looked at the painting. And kept on looking.

With every passing second, Jiyong was losing his excitement and apprehension was sneaking back in. “What’s wrong? Did I mess up? I knew I should have added a little more orange, it didn’t mix right, right? Or is it the purple?”

“No.” Seunghyun’s voice was barely above a whisper. “No Ji, it’s perfect. You did everything right. The colours, the mixing, everything.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t just pulling my leg, are you? I know I haven’t painted in a long while so I wasn’t expecting anything much anyway, but you aren’t saying this to later tell me how awful it actually is, right? There’s no way it-” His rambling was muffled with fabric as he found himself caught in a hug.

He struggled to free his face, “Did you drink, hyung?”

Seunghyun’s arms tightened around him. “No, I didn’t drink. I’m happy.”

“Okay, well, let go of me because I’m kinda struggling to breathe here.”

“Nope.”

“Do you want me to ruin your suit with oil paint?”

Seunghyun jumped back and Jiyong laughed at his expression.

“Sometimes I think that I should keep some of your formal clothes hostage. It’s a good way to make you do what I want.”

“You’d have to come over for that.”

“Or you could stay over and I’ll keep this one.” Oh no. What. Why. Shut up. Why did you do that. Why did you have to do that. What have you done. What’s wrong with you. Shut up. Make an excuse. Or maybe he didn’t hear. Oh who am I kidding, of course he heard. Stupid. ing. Idiot. Why. Why. Wh-

“Sure.”

“No that’s alright-” Jiyong began, “Wait what?”

Seunghyun laughed, shaking his head, “I said, sure. I’ll stay the night. I love the painting and I want to look at it for a while more, and I don’t really feel like sitting in a car for the ride back home. And I haven’t seen you in a month, so I’d rather stay longer.”

“Oh.”

“Go clean up and come to the living room. I’ll set up the food.”

Jiyong’s lips parted to respond but no words came out. He nodded instead and shuffled out of the kitchen, glancing back multiple times to see Seunghyun gesturing at him to leave.

It wasn’t until he was standing under the warmth of the shower that he managed to speak. “He loves it.”