And then comes the moment when you give something a name,
and somehow you become dependant on it.

Luhan loved the chromatic circle. 

He always thought colours were what gave the world a meaning - and the fact that something was created to show all the relationships between them only amazed him. 

He always stood in front of his easel, the one right next to the window, when lessons finished. The chromatic circle next to him, so he could see it clearly. The university he was attending was close to the city, so everyone went home after the clock hit 5pm. Therefore, he could find peacefulness in that place, where just a few hours were enough to free his mind. The brushes were kept in a glass beaker he 'borrowed' from the chemistry faculty, hidden behind a chair full of ropes they used to draw in their first lessons. after , colour after colour, he created things on the canvas he had never seen before but knew perfectly. 

The light reflected on the room made it look like it was kind of a fairytale, surrounding it with pale colours and warm sensations. He smiled to himself before finishing any painting, and then he threw it away.

Every beautiful thing he had drawn, ended up in the same place.

Luhan always said perfection only lasts an instant.

But he kept painting.






He was lost, kind of. He had never been in that place and the principal told him it'd be better if he just wandered around to start familiarizing with the space. They all looked like almost empty rooms to himself. He tried to imagine all of them full of students painting, creating sculptures, drawing... It was like the rooms were alive. 

He always wanted to study Fine Art. He had heard a lot of complaints, from his family and friends, about how that career will lead him to ruin, and how it was stupid to go on with this kind of life. They said being an artist was for dreamers, but dreamers were quite famous those days. 

He walked around the building, and ended up in some closed space with dim light, but somehow it felt warm. There were easels everywhere, and some paintings hanging on the wall. 

A soft hum flew through the air. He knew it was a song, but couldn't guess which one - it looked like it was quite old, and it gave a mystic feel to the room. He slowly entered it, but stopped after seeing a figure in front of an easel. 

There was a somehow-blonde guy, painting senseless things. Even though he didn't understand the painting, he felt a warm feeling inside of him, and thought the boy had talent for it. He was moving gracefully his arms, humming a song, and even though he might be in his twenties, he looked like a child.

He decided not to bother him, and continued exploring the faculty because the next day his lessons would start.

He returned every afternoon, before going home, to that room.

And he always heard the same song, and wondered, hidden so the boy wouldn't see him, if being alone was the same as feeling helpless.






As days went by, Luhan's paintings were stranger. They looked like human figures at first, then they seemed geometric forms, and now they only looked like colours here and there, put together in a graceful way.

The boy always wondered why Luhan always stayed there, painting alone, spending hours until it was dark drawing and putting colour to it and then he would remade it, finishing with his signature. He didn't know why, out of all the things he could do, he was there. But then he thought he was just as stupid for spending days watching the boy paint, so all of his thoughts had no sense. 

He wanted to say he was there, though. He wanted to scream, "hey boy, what are you doing?" when Luhan would take the canvas and suddently break it and yell and throw it away. He was surprised when, with every thing he had done past all those weeks, he could destroy them so easily.

And one day Luhan drew a bird. And smiled.

And just opened the window and told the bird to fly.






"I know you're there, so if you could at least come out it'd be nice", Luhan had said one day, still facing his canvas, painted with a thin layer of yellow. 

The boy had been startled, still sitting and leaning against the door frame, stretching his neck slowly to take a look at Luhan. When he saw he was not looking, he quickly stood up and entered the room fully. With his hand on the back of his neck and nervous laugh, he started explaining how he wasn't 'a creep or anything like that'.

"You look like one, you've been watching me for weeks now"; Luhan answered, a hint of laugh in his voice. "Don't worry, I won't bite."

The boy slowly approached the canvas, so he could see clearly what Luhan was painting. It was another confusing landscape, where things that existed mixed themselves so they became in the end something you've never seen. It had warm colours, and it emitted a feeling of Summer. Luhan slowly turned his head so he'd be facing the boy, but his expression didn't change.

The boy quickly looked at him and later at the floor in embarrassment, and smiled a little bit.

"I -I'm sorry. I just thought your paintings were so good, but I couldn't get myself to come here and speak to you. But well, now you know."

Luhan looked at him a few seconds, and then returned to his painting he'd later throw away.

"I'm Sehun. You?"

Luhan wished he never knew his name.






"Why do you always throw your paintings away after you finish them?"

Sehun was lying on the room's floor, turning the pages of a interior design magazine he bought before lessons even started. He started liking working on that field, and wanted to learn more about it before deciding where to lead his career. 

Luhan was painting, facing his canvas, and he felt like he'd never finish a painting he'd like with Sehun's presence. He stopped moving his brush up and down, and turned to look at the boy. Sehun lifted his gaze.

"I'd like if you could stop asking questions. I already told you, you can be here if you want, but please don't annoy me."

He then turned around and kept doing what he always did.

Sehun scoffed, turning another page of the magazine and looking at a beautiful Disney themed room. He thought he'd like to try that for his cousin's room. After having read all of it, he closed the magazine and let out a deep sigh. He stretched his muscles and spread himself on the floor, looking at the ceiling. 

"Nothing can be perfect, so if it's not perfect I don't want it to last."

Luhan spoke quietly, and Sehun lifted his head to look at him staring at the canvas.

"What?"

"I throw them away", he continued, "because if they're not perfect I don't want them to last forever, not even a minute."

Sehun just let his body rest on the floor again, and told him that if he kept searching for perfection, he'd end up lost in it.






Days passed and Luhan opened his heart - a little bit - to Sehun. 

That meant they'd talk about nonsense things, and Luhan would laugh sometimes.

It was a big step, actually.

Sehun crossed out the days on his calendar and drew a little heart on every day Luhan had seemed happy.






"Paint me".

"Excuse me?"

Luhan turned his head around and saw Sehun sitting on a chair, looking at him happily. "I want you to paint me."

He scoffed and kept painting what seemed a forest, with dark colours that went from green to black. There was a hint of light somewhere, and it seemed a fairy flying through the threes. If you got a little bit closer, you'd see they were only colours sprawled on the canvas randomly, and it looked more like a nightmare. 

"Draw me like one of your French girls!", Sehun had shouted, pouting.

Luhan laughed - for the first time since Sehun had known him - and turned around to face him, a smile still on his face. He threw the canvas away, and took a new one. Old brushes, old paints but a new reality to recreate. 

"Ok then, just... sit wherever you want. Do whatever you want but stay still and I'll paint you."

Sehun smiled like a happy child and got up, sitting next to the window and looking out of it. "This way's right?"

"You totally look like a French girl lost in her thoughts", Luhan smirked, "Yeah, this way looks fine. Just..."

Luhan frowned a little bit and got up, stretching his arm - maybe too - close to Sehun's cheek. He closed his eyes afraid some sort of pain will come, but then he put Sehun's hair behind his ears, and made a reassuring sound. 

When he opened his eyes, Luhan was already behind his canvas. 

Painting him.






Maybe it looked like Sehun, or maybe not. 

Maybe it was exactly like the boy he had in front of him, or maybe he just put a lot of colours together and made a mess out of it only to call it a painting. Sehun had gone home an hour ago, and Luhan stayed in the room finishing the final touches. He stood up, and watched the painting from afar.

He signed it, and put the date on it.

Then he took the painting home.






They were outside. The university had already closed its doors, and they had nowhere to go. None of them wanted to go home, so they looked out for a place with soft grass and looked at the stars, on the ground. How cheesy.

"You're actually the first person I let enter in my life."

"Did I enter in your life? A weird image appeared in my mind, ew, gross."

Luhan smiled and hit Sehun's ribs softly, making him shift his position to get back to see the sky again. 

"I'm glad."






Sehun had observed Luhan always had a thing for putting his fingers inside his mouth, and the tips. He's always do it, whether he was eating or walking or even painting. It was okay when he painted with watercolors, but he even did it when he was using oil painting.

Sehun asked him the reason.

He said he didn't want to die as an elderly person.

Soon Sehun started his fingers as well.






They were at Sehun's house. Luhan had told him he had nowhere to go - probably because paying the university left him with no money to pay the rent - but he didn't ask. Even though he tried all the ways, Luhan wouldn't eat and Sehun realized he was skinnier than the first time they met. His clothes were large on him, a beige shirt that let you see his skinny arms, and brown skinny pants that fit him perfectly. 

Sehun was just wearing shorts because it was his home and he could do it.

He was making dinner when Luhan slowly approached him from behind, wrapping Sehun's body with his arms and touching with care his abdomen. He rested his chin on his shoulders, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes. 

Sehun slowly turned around, facing Luhan and pressing his nose against the blonde's. His hands reached his hair, tucking it behind his ear and letting his fingers trace every faction of Luhan's soft skin. They breathed the same air.

Soon they were both on Sehun's bed, no clothes on. Luhan's body was almost scary, but at the same time the youngest wanted to protect him wrapping his arms around it. Everytime he pressed too much, his skin turned white and got back to his pink colour gradually.

They ed until Luhan swore he could draw Sehun's body with his eyes closed.

Luhan tasted like paint.






It was the last day of the year. People were cheering happily on the streets, laughing with their friends and family, with their best clothes on. The sky was full of fireworks of all the colours people could ever imagine, and it seemed like Summer was there again. Never leaving in its totality. Always leaving a hint of his existence.

The clock truck ten, therefore the university was already closed, but Luhan managed to get in. He was alone, with only the light of the moon and the fireworks to illuminate the room that was too familiar to him already. The canvas was empty, white on white, but he somehow could see the diference. If someone had asked him, he'd say he painted something. 

His chest hurt, pain approaching every part of his body slowly, making him feel tired. He didn't want to die like an elderly person, but inside he already was one. He coughed and, after hearing a voice behind him, wiped his hand on his white trousers.

"Why did you left this under my bed?"

Sehun was stading three meters away from him, with the painting Luhan did on his hand. He looked at it almost painfully, but Sehun locked his gaze in Luhan's eyes. 

"You did keep it."

Sehun unconsciously his fingers and Luhan, smiling, turned his head to the window. A few fireworks were shining in the sky. They looked like palms.

Luhan coughed again and wiped his hand, red suddently painting his jeans. It could be Japan's flag. Or maybe a face with tears. Or maybe a fish. Luhan didn't know.

Sehun left the painting on the floor, coming next to the older and sitting next to him, admiring the sky. He coughed.

Their fingers interwined perfectly, one hand on the other one, and someone on the street shouted in happiness.






You can make perfection last as much as you want.