5. How and Where

As a mutual accord, we found our equilibrium; Sehun would come to my flat after school, as it was more convenient than going back and forth from his house. Not only he would do his homework everyday but, he also started cooking for dinner, exercising for his cooking class diligently. He wasn't too surprised of my empty fridge or forgotten larder and it looked like he had started a ouevre of persuasion on me, insisting on changing my diet. I obliged him taking at least the money for my half of the food as he didn't even wanted any payment for modeling, saying that he was happy to have a quiet place where cooking freely; as I had grasped, his father wasn't delighted of his passion for food.

On the other hand, I had my unique and marvelous source of inspiration right in front of me everyday, giving me time to perfect my drawing, complete some painting, start new and new ones.

Within two weeks, Sehun obtained me eating almost everything he cooked and I had gained enough courage to ask him permission of taking photo of him.

"You like photography".

It wasn't a question. It was one of the statements Sehun liked to make with him calm and flat voice, surprising me stating things about myself or my habits as absolute certainties.

On weekends I reviewed the works of the week after my partime job at the shop; I liked organizing papers realized and select the best ones to work on it. On that Sunday night, looking at the different pictures of his face, of his neck and nape, of his shoulders and collar bones visible trough a thin white tank, I got an idea. Experimentally, I started painting and drawing on photos, amazed at how easy was underlining his body with shades of color, how particular looked the result.

That monday, I showed it to Sehun, curious of his opinion and glad to give him a happy smile as he liked it a lot.

He found my new obsession hilarious though, as I started taking tons of photos of him also when he was cooking. He kept chuckling embarrassed when my camera's lens zoomed on his focused eyes while measuring ingredients. It was fascinating how much care he used to chop them fastly, perfect slice of colors piling up on the cutting board.

That day, Sehun also stole from me a photos of us two togheter: one of his hand covering mine suddenly and the other one pulling my shoulder to his, the camera capturing my surprised profile and his happy smirk. He barely let me see the photo while still laughing at my frown for being photographed: really, I wasn't used to be the subject of photo. I was on the other side of the camera usually.

◊

On a mild warm rainy afternoon of our third week, Sehun was lying on my couch, one leg folded under the other, an arm loosely rested on his side, bony fingers propping up a book he was reading for an assignment. I had to thanks his teacher for giving him such a intricate and difficult reading as the little concerted frown on his brows was an entangling crease to photograph.

Anyway, in the silence of the living room, my mood wasn't of the best. I couldn't be really satisfied from the drawing on photos I had done til that moment; it looked as I couldn't catch the result I wanted.

Frustration was giving me headache.

I sighed as my hand, by mistake, tripped down a glass of dirty water on a photo, ruining the paint, colors fading away from the lucid base. I didn't really mind though, that draw wasn't enough. Some shades weren't enough.

I was still staring at the wet mess on the coffee table when Sehun's hand, with some handkerchiefs in, wiped away the water, mumbling it would stain the wood of the table, managing to dry it all in few minutes.

I lifted my gaze and stared at him silently, searching an answer of why I would just prefer to leave all those photos of him raw, without modifying them, just letting him be his natural and perfect self.

"The photo is ruined".

Sehun had shifted to seat in front of me, the little frown still on his face as he stood up to trow away the damp handkerchiefs and the ruined photo. I shrugged and looked at my hands all stained by different colors, my forefinger was entirely blue, pigment also under my nails.

Suddenly a wet towel closed around my hands, Sehun's fingers mine under the damp fabric, the paint slowly coming off, my brain slowly registering his hand's shape around mine, his thumbs pressure on my skin through the towel, the warmt of his skin.

"Why don't you draw on me and then take photos?"

My eyes widened at his question and I stared at him unbeliaving : was he talking for real? He would seriously let me draw on him? On his skin? On that body?

"Would you seriously let me?"

He nodded smiling while releasing my hand, an embarrassed faint blush on his cheekbones.

". . . I can try with your hand firstly..and then trying different angles in photos..". I lost track of my speaking, new ideas coming to me, waves of expectations piling up: that would be spectacular.

The successive afternoon, I had already bought skin color and white fabric to use as background for the photos, hopeful of not staining my entire living room.

It was amazing.

Really. As I had finished painting both of his hands - thing that took almost a hour - I started photographing.

Sehun, staring at me quiet, let me maneuver his hands freely, not letting out the tiniest sound until my camera landed softly on the couch and I started to organize the mess around the living room.

"This is cool".

He was looking at one of the trial shots I had taken with the instan polaroid camera before using the film one.

I nodded saying a little 'thanks' before helping him standing up without touching around and brought him in the bath. Skin colors were easy to take off and I laughed at his complain of the water being too hot.

That night he prepared a meat dish, something that tasted amazing and looked like there was a flower in the plate. Each petal was made by the meat cooked in a different way.

We chatted randomly, the reality being him talking about everything he wanted and me listening, absorbing, memorizing; he rambled about school, about his strict teachers and about his classmate that seems only to care about playing at the arcade and nothing more - I stopped in making him notice how that was normal for boys of 19 yrs old and how much mature he was as I wasn't exactly a normal person myself -.

"Why you talk only when I'm not painting or taking photos?".

He smiled and took a small sip of water, "You are focused when painting, same goes when you're taking photos".

". . . It's ok if you talk.. I mean.. If you want..".

Smiling wide, he nodded a single time, his eyes never leaving mine: "I'll talk".

"Ne".

◊

At the end of that week, on Saturday, I showed Kris some of the photos, proud of my work and wanting his opinion; He was really stunned by some shots, repeating that my draws were awesome and that I should have insert most of that photos in my portfolio. I did, carefully inserting both some of the first painted photos and the later ones, with the painted skin.

Hands, arms, nape.

Those weren't only photos. I had so many words engraved in them, Sehun had maintained his words and had started talking while I painted on him, our lifes becoming so familiar to each other that I couldn't even remeber all the things I had told him.

That Saturday we talked on the phone for almost two hours: Sehun was pissed off for something regarding school and his father but he didn't wanted to talk about it and asked me about work. I proudly told him about how Kris would bring me to the wedding, at the start of the summer, as a photographer; he sounded amazed and even if I confessed my fear of failing to him, I managed to smile throughout the entire conversation: he made me smile easily.
Before I could realize it, a new week started again. I couldn't have hoped the weekend to pass faster.

"Can I try painting your face?".

It was overwhelming.

Softly painting on that lineaments that had made me lose my mind and my sleep so many time.

Sehun closed his eyes after kneeling down in-between my legs on the floor, blush creeping on my cheeks at the position. I, seating on the couch, could see him from above, his neck slightly arched to show me every features, giving me the right angle to paint.

I was nervous and shocked from the change of atmosphere in the room as I painted a tiny blue line down his nose, till his lips. His mouth opened briefly reveling the redder inside, his warm breath hitting me. My hands trembled slightly as I had some difficult being focused, his eyes fluttering open and gazing on me; I gasped a bit noticing the stare and red flushed again my face.

"You're not talking today..".

At my observation, his lips curved up messing a bit the line I had drew, blue contour smearing on his bottom lip.

"I enjoy also silence with you".

My hands lost balance at his words, the line on his right cheek interrupting as my hand froze.

". . . E-eyes". I ordered him, his eyes closing right after my request which was just an excuse as my cheeks were burning red under his stare. I didn't miss his satisfied smile though.

◊

"Can I draw on your chest?".

I was puzzled as, at my question, he lifted a finger: "At one condition".

"What?".

"You help me cook tonight".

Even more puzzled I stared at him frowning: "Wae?!".

"Because it's a form of art and I'm sure you'll enjoy it".

Groaning, I nodded, surrendering at the accord for the higher purpose.

After preparing the white fabric on the couch for Sehun to lay, I turned to him, my lips losing their smile as my eyes landed on his flesh. He was taking of his shirt, fabric stretched over his pale shoulders, face still halfway covered. It was a month since last time I had seen his torso, his flat abdomen, the pale skin, the brief v line disappearing in the low waist of his jeans. I suddenly felt hot and bubble, not expecting my own reaction at all. I turned my attention on my hands and adjusted the white blanket better on the couch.

"Uhm.. Lay down".

He laid slowly on the couch, trying to spread the chest as flat as he could but looking pretty uncomfortable. My hands reached for a pillow to use, placing it under his head, obtaning a soft 'thanks' from him.

I choose a pale blue to start with; the brush slowly drawing a line in the middle of his chest, down til his belly button.

"It's ticklish". Chuckled him, abdominal tensing under the bristles.

I laughed softly and moved on, strengthening the line on his sides, dividing his torso in parts. My whole project was coming to an end, it was time to organize my work and hand it over to be evaluated. That could be the last time I actually had to paint and I wanted to create something different from the other photos. I wanted to paint as on a canvas.

My hand moved fast the smaller brush I had, drawing a matted flower pattern just above his heart. Teared petals til the other shoulder, black outlines thin an precise.

"This is amazing".

His comment startled me a bit as we were in silence til before.

"Here there is more space, I can really paint..", I smiled while shiftly drawing a little bud on his left collar bone, edgy leaves's contours under it, contrasting the soft of the flower with thorns.

I stopped midway of the draw to let him switch position and to take a rest from the heat; it was really a hot day, summer knocking to my windows with harsh blast of boiling air. My head hurt a bit since morning: probably for the heat and for the few hours of sleep.

"Here". He accepted the glass of grapefruit juice smiling an drinking it right away.

I took some shots with my camera of his laying figure, limbs mellowly sprawled on the couch, skin slightly translucent for a thin layer of sweat.

"Why you like taking photo of me?".

Startled by the question, my hands clenched on my camera and blush creeped on my cheeks.

"Uhm.. ", I was a bit in panic, I wasn't certainty going to let him know about my obsession, ". . . let's continue ok?".

Avoiding his eyes, I clumsy took the brush from the glass of dirty water; as I was distracted I didn't noticed it being wet and a fat drop of water escaped down on his skin, rolling to his neck, towards the flowers. I needed to stop it before it could ruin the draw but I had the bad idea of halting it with my finger, brushing my thumbs on the shadow of the bones, water sticking to my skin and not reaching the draw.

My heart was bumping like crazy as I glanced at Sehun's face, his eyes were glued on me, unreadable orbs not blinking, mouth closed unnaturally tight.

I felt a drop of sweat trailing my nape slowly as I experimentally dipped finger in white paint, glancing at him as asking mute permission: his lips relaxed in a soft smile.

My finger trailed down his neck, passing softly on his Adam's apple, smearing the pain in a perfect line til the middle of the V of his collar bones.

Entangled by the waves of sensations, I dipped again my forefinger in the white paint and slid it slowly on his abdomen, the straight line of an inch dividing his flat skin; As my thumb brushed over his bellybutton and the white paint covered the soft few hairs of his happy trail, goose bumps appeared on his skin. Sehun's fingers closed around my wrist, a little gasp of surprise leaving my mouth.

"Luhan.."

Only then I realized how and where I was touching him and I stood up abruptly, stuttering an apology as I knew that by then he would be shocked and maybe even disgusted by me. My wrist, though, was still in his soft grip, long fingers stopping my movements as he stood slowly in front of me, still caring of not ruining the paint.

He was taller than me, how could him? He was younger, way younger.. And he still managed to make me feel like a kid, crushed by all those overwhelming feeling, stunned by his presence so near.

We never had been that near before.

His fingers shifted from my wrist to my hands, his fingertips opening mine to interlace our hands, to fill the natural empty space in-between my digits with his bony ones. I didn't knew what to do. I was petrified. And the room around me started spinning like crazy and, suddenly, the flat seemed too warm, the walls too tight, Sehun too near.

It was when's Sehun's warm lips landed on my forehead though, that my legs decided to lose every function and I literally collapsed in his arms.

"Luhan!".

◊

I was in my bed.

The room was pleasurably chill as the curtains were close since morning, not letting the sun enter in the room, a small fan moving air around lazily.

I gulped down and frowned at my completely dry throat; I needed some water but I didn't wanted to move. Me being in my room mean only a thing: Sehun had entered in my bedroom. He had seen my undo bed, my unnatural monochrome wardrobe, my painting - his painting -, my photos - his photos- . HIS photos clipped to MY bedroom's wall.

I should had growled louder than what I though as a familiar figure opened the ajar door.

"You're up?".

He was still shirtless, the almost completed draw visible on his flawless skin even in the room penumbra.

"I.. Uhm.. sorry".

He smiled reaching for the bed and stretching a hand to help me stand; clearly he was still worried that my legs wouldn't function right again. I stumbled on my bare feet and gripped on his forearm to stand properly.

"You need to drink and eat something".

Wrong. I needed space from his body. Clearly it made strange things to me. However, at his words, smell of food reached my nostrils; I didn't even knew what time was but my stomach grumbled making Sehun chuckle and push me out of the room.

"Here, dig in".

I stared at the plate with wide eyes for an instant before glancing at him.

Sehun frowned at my reaction: "You don't like it? I'm sorry.. I thought you would like ..".

"乾炒牛河?".

His words stopped at my - surely incomprehensible to him - word. I shoved in my mouth a big piece of meat; I couldn't believe he had actually cooked a beef chow fun, a Cantonese dish that my mum did often. It tasted good. It tasted awesome. It tasted like home.

"This.. This is perfect Sehun-ah..really..".

The bright smile on his face made my heart flutter and he seated in front of me and started eating.

"It's my first time cooking Cantonese, is this good?".

I nodded munching happily and finishing my entire portion in few minutes. When was the last time I was that hungry?

"You hadn't breakfast right? You should eat in the morning", he refilled my plate with a worried look on his face, "With this hot weather you're going to faint again if you don't eat enough".

It wasn't surely my habit of skipping breakfast the problem. Probably having him feeding me marvelous food every day had lifted my appetite but, I could bet that it wasn't the empty stomach to blame for my blackout.

"It's not that.. I never have breakfast, I'm used to it".

Sehun looked at me for an instant before a grin opened his mouth: "Then, it was my poor attempt of seducing you?".

My chopsticks fell soundly in the plate as I stared at him without words: was he talking for real? He bursted out laughing aloud at my shocked expression.

"Luhan?".

I coughed diverting my gaze from him and gulped down slowly a glass of water. He had called me with my first name, again. I was pretty sure it was the third time in that day and it clearly affected my lungs functions as well my legs.

". . . I was.. Uhm.. Supposed to help you cook tonight..", I changed subject hiding my red cheek while eating, "I'm sorry".

Sehun laughed again, brown locks of hair grazing his eyes, mouth curved up in a sweet smile.

"We have all the summer for that..".

Our gaze interlaced as I finished my second portion of food, the grin still playing on his lips, a same one on mines.

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