4. Eight Shaped

"From next week, the draw class will be suspended as you will all need to focus on your own final project. You'll have to present it the last week of this semester for the evaluation of the year".

My mouth fell open at teacher's words; I stared at her in disabelif: She was saying it a week before the end of the course? I knew that eventually the course had to come to and end but, this brutally?

Others seemed happy since we wouldn't have anymore afternoon's lessons but I was shocked; my eyes roamed again around the room in search of Sehun but, I couldn't spot him. He wasn't there.

"And this week?".

I mentally thanked the unknown voice that asked the question out loud.

"This week we'll review your works til now for each of you and you'll prepare some sketch for the final project".

So: no model. No Sehun.

Recalling his words of that Friday, I gasped a bit, gripping to my bag. He was telling me this? I was too stupidly angry for that girl that I hadn't leave him time to talk. I had been futility jealous and stupid..

That week passed so slow that I thought time was stopping; I was totally lazy, not wanting to attend lessons, not finding a single thing to photograph, not having any idea for my project. All I could think was him.

"You're absurd!".

Lay was completely right but I surely wasn't going to admit it. He was seating on my bed, some homework papers beside his legs and a pencil in his mouth. omitting how much I found degrading for that pencil being bite and munched on, I looked at him sighing.

"I don't know what to do". A painful flick made my head snap back some inches, "Ouuuch! What you did that for?". I rubbed my cold fingers on my forehead and threw a pillow to Lay. He rolled his eyes and fumbled with his phone after snatching mine from the bed. My eyes widened at realization of what he was doing and I started shaking my head.

"I'm not going to call him".

Lay wasn't even listening, he gathered his papers and books messily into his bag and walked out of my room, me silently following.

"I've got work".

"Yeah..".

"Lu, use that phone ok? It's made for that".

I shrugged and unlocked the door for him, waving briefly before closing it again after him. A loud sigh escaped my mouth as I stared at the phone in my hand sulking.

◊

"Are you ok?".

"No".

The situation hadn't changed from a week before: Lay was in my apartment, his finished homework on my coffee table and my depressed self on the couch.

I was going insane. Not only I hadn't still found any idea for my final project but, all that my hands seemed to be able to draw was Sehun. My house was a mess, canvas and papers everywhere with sketches that I couldn't bare to look, paintings that I couldn't even remember doing.

"I have the painter's block".

Lay arched a brow before patting my shoulder slowly; I knew he couldn't understand how frustrated I was but I smiled at his attempt of comforting me.

"Actually, there are a lot of paintings and draws here Lu. You know that. You don't have a block".

I sighed shaking my head and he breathed in loudly before standing up: "C'on! Let's makes some order".

In a hour I had to admit I was feeling much better than before. My living room was visible, canvas were neatly piled up on a wooden bench near the window and papers were clipped and stored in green rigid albums, metal clips blocking them. I also had take the chance to organize my drawing material's boxes; I had divided each kind of paint, pastel, pencil, color in separate tins or wooden box. My mind seemed to had regain some equilibrium in that new order.

I hugged Lay from the side, letting him mess my hair and thanking him wholeheartedly, smiling at my precious best friend. He laughed and pushed me off him, hugging the fan instead, searching some refuge from the heat of the day.

"I'll make you iced tea". I proposed as a reward for his work and Lay laughed nodding.

"You'll have to make tea for me for my entire life after this!".

As the ice cubes melted fastly in the blue glass, I glanced again at the pile of canvas, knowing too well that I wouldn't stop drawing him.

"Have you called him?".

I jumped surprised, smiling embarrassed as Lay had caughted me easily.

"No".

"Lu, they are all drawing of him", I didn't needed to lift my gaze to know where he was pointing at, "Really, you need to call him".

I pushed his tea to him and shrugged: "What would I be supposed to say?".

Lay mumbled some instant before smiling like he had got the best idea ever: "Hi, I like you, can we see each other?".

He was lucky that the only object near to throw to him was a cleaning cloth.

◊

"Thank you, have a nice day!".

I bowed smiling at the engaged couple; they had come to the shop for asking a special service for their marriage: they wanted the photos to be different from the classical marriage's album so, they had asked if we could take some Lomography's Style photos too. I had showed them all the different kind of possible filter and they were absolutely convinced on the blue old style smoky lens. It gave the photo a vintage feeling.

The couple was the last customare of the warm day; Kris poured us some coffee while I checked the order list for the next week.

"What you think of coming with me at the wedding for the photoshoot? I know you have classes but it's a good opportunity".

I stared at him surprised: "What!?".

"You said you take photos as hobby, mind showing them to me?".

My hands clenched on the small cup in my hands: the fact my photos would be seen by him, a real photographer, anguished me a bit.

"Ah..Uhm.. Sure, I can bringing them tomorrow".

"You should think of doing it as work if you like it, you're going to graduate soon".

On my way home, Kris's words kept spinning in my head; surely I knew I couldn't be just a painter in the future and, the fact I had this concrete possibility in photography, was oddly comforting, positive.

At home, staring at the wall beside my bed, my finger trailed the outline of my portfolio: all my favorite photos were in there. Most of them had an exact copy pinned at my wall but, as my eyes landed on the three shots of Sehun, I realized that I only had a copy of them.

My pointing finger traced the corner of the first one I had taken of him walking from the back before taking it off from the wall and cautionsly sliding it in the portfolio.

That night, laying close-eyed in my bed, I had difficult catching sleep. I wanted to see him again, to photograph him again, to hear his voice again. In the brief hours of restless sleep, my dreams were tormented by unfinished painting and empty canvas. Only at the dawn I managed to fell in a warm and soft limbo culled by the silence of the city in the early hour of a Sunday. A pleasant dream was interrupted by the alarm clock but, groaning, I clinged on the image of Sehun's smile towards me and, easily fell asleep again.

I arrived at work on time for a miracle, running for the entire distance from the subway station to the shop, panting heavily as I closed the door behind me.
Kris was awfully busy the entire day but, during lunch break he reminded me of the photos and I nervously showed him the portfolio's album. He looked at all the photos slowly, stopping ever so often on one, asking few questions.

"So, would you like to take a step further in photography?".

His smile made my anguish vanish as I nodded convicted.

"The wedding will be like your testing ground".

I gasped a little shoked: it was a huge responsability.

"Really?"

As he nodded, a wide smile opened my lips, my future's prospects brighting even more, my mood lifting up for the first time in three weeks.

That afternoon, while happily helping the customers in need and after controlling some films order, I finally managed to clear my mind on certain things: First, I wanted to try the road of photography seriously; Second, I had a new idea for my final project; Third, I wanted, needed Sehun to do it.

◊

"You're still here? It's past 7". Kris's puzzled glance landed on me from behind the counter.

"I have to wait for around 8 anyway, I was stocking the new films and cleaning a bit".

He nodded shrugging and muttering something like 'I won't pay you more' that made me chuckle while sweeping the floor slowly. I scooted out of the shop around 8 and hurried to the subway station, nervousness eating me up step by step. I had lastly spoke to Sehun more than 3 weeks before and a mix of expectations and anguish filled me up as I gave a start to my plan.

I had decided to wait him at the subway station as, presumingly, his cooking class ended around that hour. Or at least I though so; As a half hour passed I started doubting my idea and my self esteem crashed a bit, hands tormenting my transportation card.

"Excuse me".

I jumped startled as someone spoke to me, realization of not being Sehun hitting me even before I turned around to face a middle aged man: it wasn't his voice.

"From this station can I reach HongDae?".

"Yes, you have to take the blue line". My finger pointed to my left as I smiled politely to the man, mentally cursing myself for being that nervous.

"Thank you, good evening".

Bowing slightly, I surrendended at going back home, clearly having got wrong Sehun's schedule; I had only took the first step of the stair when the awaited lisp-accessoried voice stopped me.

"Luhan Hyung?".

I almost tripped down and, even if I managed to stay still, my card slid from my fingers and fell onto the floor. A familiar hand reached it for me, the dejavu of that time in my draw class hitting me powerfully as he stretched it for me.

I lifted my gaze to meet his: "Thanks".

Sehun had a small smile on his lips but I could tell he was surprised of me being there and his question confirmed it: "What are you doing here Hyung?".

My mind went blank as I only managed a lame but credible lie: "I finished late today".

He nodded and started walking down the stairs, my feet following him naturally, our shoes with different paces on the steps.

"It's a surprise seeing you. I though we wouldn't see each other anymore".

I swallowed my saliva slowly, silently, searching for the right answer into my prepared speech from before.

"We could organize a dinner with Lay and Kai", I proposed uncertaintly.

"I thought you weren't the type to enjoy food".

The frown on my face was clear after his remark, my mouth curving in an apologetic smile.

"ah. Well.. ", I shifted uncomfortable at my loss of words. Silence grew again and I cursed to my lame social skills.

"How's your project going?".

My head banged up puzzled by his sudden question: he knew about my project? He was even interested in it?

"Your teacher told me why I would't be needed anymore in your class". He explained shrugging his shoulder a single time, a small smile on his lips.

"Oh. Well", I took a long breath debating if being direct for a single time in my life, "actually, I have an idea but ..".

"But?".

"Would you mind, well.. modelling for me? I know it sound strange and it's sudden but I'm already accustomed on drawing you and.. Well..". I stopped not knowing what else could say, his silence dragging me in an embarassing shade of pink and my orbs not diverting from my feet.

"Yeah. Why not?".

Glancing to him, my eyes widened at the warm smile on his face: was he talking for real?

I should had asked it out loud as he chuckled nodding: "Yeah. I give you my number, pass me your phone". Panic again. He could easily found out his own number in my phone if I handed it.

"Ah.. Uhm, I'll give you mine".

He didn't complain and just passed me his slick black phone with his long fingers: I had missed those hands so much that I had to snap back to reality as I noticed I was just staring at it without actually writing my number. A stupid pink flushed my cheek as, since he wrote fastly 'luhan' on the screen, I asked myself how would it be to be called only by my first name by him.

"Thanks, I'll write you later so you'll have mine. I have to go now, sorry, they're waiting for me at home".

For the first time I remembered his age and a little pang of guilty hit me of having certain kind of thoughts about him: He was still living with his parents, he was still a high school student, he was so young. How could he be that young?

"See you". I muttered with a smile on my mouth growing unconsciously as he waved grinning from the other side of the station.

◊

"He's coming there!?". I could hear Lay grinning from the other line. I was randomly doodling with a pencil on a empty notebook's paper while trying to relax a bit. Sehun was going to enter that door, my apartment's door, in minutes. And I was nervous like hell. Having him in my house was absurd and I had spent the entire day controlling everything to be fine.

"Yeah, he's coming after school". It was just Thursday, only 3 day after when he had got my number. I had found out that he pretty disliked texting in a embarrassing phone call from him the night before in which we accorded to meet at my flat as I needed my drawing tools and he lived with his parents.

"So, you invited him at your place? And you are going to make him undress?".

I chocked on my own breath but before I could snap back at Lay, my doorbell sounded and I hurriedly closed the call: "Shut up! He's here. Bye".

My finger trembled as I unlocked the main door and said a nervous 'fifth floor on the left' into the speaker, waiting immoble the few instant for the elevator to reach my floor and a soft knock to resound on the door.

There had to be something tricking about him. How come his merely presence made my living room look like a page of an expensive home design's magazine? Maybe, the fact that he was wearing a stainless white shirt slightly ed with sleeves rolled up his firm and pale forearm, helped him on looking like a freaking model magically appeared on my couch. At least it was why I had some problem of stopping my hands on taking photos; The yellow blazer of his high scool's uniform on my couch brought me back to reality though.

His eyes were darting around like a curious kid would do, lips curving in a smile.

"What?", I blurted out entangled by his expression.

"I had imagined a house like this".

Taken aback from his sentence I frowned: Did he disliked it? Noticing my face, Sehun hurried to add more, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"It gives artistic vibes.. I like it".

I laughed softly and walked to the kitchen, taking the kettle cautiously: "Do you want some tea?".

"Ah, yes, thank you".

I wasn't being the exactly perfect host as I wasn't really talking but I assumed he didn't minded; He opened his packback after placing it near his jacket on the couch.

"Hyung, do you eat biscuits?".

I looked up from the stove puzzled, nodding uncertain even if I didn't eat biscuits since ages before. He smiled and put a transparent plastic sachet, with a white little ribbon clipped on, on the counter; inside, aligned in two rows, there were some bisquits, each of them shaped in a perfect 8.

"Uhm, would you like to try one?".

I stared at him for an instant before taking one out of the pack slowly, studying it, sensing the rough pattern of the brown baked dough. I bet he was thinking I was strange but, since he already knew my food paranoids, there wasn't need to act normal.

"They look good". I gave in.

"They taste even better".

I laughed at the situation: Sehun was in my home, laying on the counter of my kitchen, smiling and pressing me to eat some biscuits that had really a good smell. It didn't looked like his first time being there at all, it was so natural.

"I baked them". His last attempt was the convincing one.

I stared at the perfect 8 under my eyes and realized that it was made by his hands, by those long bony fingers that were now playing with the white ribbon. I smiled biting the sweet thing and munching it slowly. It was really.. rich. My knowledge on food didn't allow me to recognize each ingredients but all I knew was that they where good, really.

"The water is boiling".

His voice snapped me back and, slightly stumbling, I filled our two cups.

"Black tea?". I gazed at him surprised at his right guess, I had already put away the box; Sehun laughed pointing to his nose and, smiling, he dipped a biscuit slowly in his cup.

"You drink that without sugar?". I asked horrified by the thought of drinking it without my usual 4 spoons of sugar.

"Yeah, I like raw taste".

Was it so wrong finding that sentence particulary wrong in all the right ways? My fingers snatched another 8 from the pack and he stared at me in silence as I mirrored him and experimentally dipped it into my sweet tea. It was even better, the dough was soft if filled with the liquid and the tea's spices flavor lingered on it.

"They are good, I like it in the tea".

He smiled happily looking at me, relaxing quietness encircling us. It until, for my dismay, the successive biscuit plopped down in the cup making a little mess as I had left it too much in the hot liquid. I ended up blushing madly as Sehun, laughing softly, stared at me for the whole time I used to pulling it up with a spoon and finally eating it. The consistency was horrible, all mushy and squelchy.

"Ugh.. squashy".

Sehun bursted out laughing loudly and grinned at me while munching another biscuit: "I think it will be fun coming here Hyung".

I laughed nodding, still amazed from his laugh, a new and young one that had made me join him in an instant.

"Yeah, I think so too".

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Thanks to all the lovely subscribers^^..
It's a different kind of story for me to write (reaaaally fluffiness and unicorns and rainbows and Lay..etc) but, I'm enjoying it!

Comment! Let me know what are you thinking, what do you think about Lu's world..

Luv you all

Rian