After that lunch with Hayi Hanbin’s insanely busy. Whenever he’s not at work he’s at home painting or wandering around the streets looking for inspiration. He has some pieces he might be able to use already done but a majority will have to be new and it’s a daunting task. He doesn’t mind though, there’s something strangely cathartic about locking himself in his apartment, turning music on a little too loud, and just painting for hours. It’s not something he’s really done since he got back to Korea and it feels good.

Later that week Jinhwan organizes a dinner with the rest of the boys to celebrate his exhibition. Hanbin invites Hayi, telling her

“You’re the only reason there’s going to be a celebration. I think you deserve to be there. Anyways, I want you to meet my friends.”

She smiles and accepts.

Hanbin is a little worried that Hayi won’t get along with everyone at first, after all they aren’t always the best behaved but as it turns out there’s nothing to be worried about. Chanwoo’s immediately smitten, barely looking away from her the whole night much to everyone else’s delight and the rest of the guys take to her quickly. About halfway through the dinner Chanwoo asks innocently,

“So, are you two dating?”

Hanbin’s taking a sip of water and nearly snorts it out his nose.

“You mean me and Hayi? No way, we’re just friends. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’s a rule somewhere about not dating your boss.”

Everybody laughs and Hanbin misses the look of hurt that flashes across her face. It’s gone in a second and she retorts with a wink,

“You really think my standards are low enough to date him? I’m just using him for his art.”

Junhoe raises his eyebrows and lets out a whistle, elbowing Hanbin.

“Looks like she gives as good as she gets, huh.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly and Hanbin relaxes into it. As they’re leaving Chanwoo pulls him aside and shyly asks for Hayi’s number. Hanbin has to restrain a laugh at the earnest look in his eyes.

“Sorry, you have to be brave enough to ask her for it.”

Chanwoo glances at her, standing by the doorway, and swallows hard. At that Hanbin does laugh and pats Chanwoo gently on the shoulder.

“I’ll put in a few good words for you.”

It’s a sunny Wednesday afternoon and Hanbin is getting nowhere. He has an idea for a painting hanging around the edges of his mind but every time he tries to put it on paper it comes out looking wrong. What he really needs is a model, but everybody’s at work or busy and he sighs, frustrated, throwing his sketchbook on the floor a little petulantly. He sits for a while, tapping the tip of his pencil against his tabletop and wondering what to do when a loud thump echoes through his ceiling. His eyes drift upwards and an idea starts too bloom. Immediately he quashes it, telling himself it’s a terrible one that will lead to nothing good but it’s persistent and before Hanbin knows what he’s doing he’s picked up his sketchbook and made his way up the stairs to Jiwon’s apartment. He stands outside of Jiwon’s door for a long time, just mustering up the courage too knock. Eventually he tells himself he looks like a creep just standing here in the hallway and raps quickly on the door before he has time to think about it.

Jiwon opens the door a few seconds later and when he sees Hanbin he looks a little surprised.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Hanbin almost shyly holds up his pencil and pad of paper,

“Would it be alright if I sketched you?”

Jiwon’s surprise only deepens, and his brow furrows

“You want to?”

Hanbin just nods.

It’s strangely awkward, Hanbin used to force Jiwon to model for him all the time when they were together. He would always mess with Hanbin, making silly faces every time he thought Hanbin wasn’t looking or bursting into laughter at inopportune moments but now he’s strangely quiet and serious. Maybe because he’s afraid Hanbin will just walk out if he doesn’t cooperate.

Hanbin sits Jiwon down on his couch, starts to arrange his limbs. He tilts his head till it’s leaning back against the couch, fingers gentle on Jiwon’s cheeks and it feels strange to have his hands on Jiwon like this again.

He steps back, satisfied with his positioning and walks around the low coffee table in the center of the room and takes a seat across from the couch, turns to a fresh page  and starts to work. The afternoon sun trickles through the living room windows and makes Jiwon glow, illuminates the dust motes floating in the air around him like a hazy aura of gold. There’s something sensual about Jiwon, something almost ethereal, head tilted back to expose the length of his neck and eyes half closed and Hanbin’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of him.  

Hanbin starts to sketch. It’s a slow process, each line measured and careful. He starts with the face, giving special attention to the full curve of his lips, the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbone, the crease of his chin. It’s an almost intimate feeling, to explore the angles of Jiwon’s face like this, to sketch the dip in his throat and the dark shadows under his clavicle.  It’s like learning an old lover’s body all over again, but at the same time it’s like learning somebody new.

When he finishes he sits back and looks over his work, it’s not as clean as his usual style, a little more sketchy and impressionistic. Even the angles of Jiwon’s cheeks are dulled under Hanbin’s pencil, features arranged in a peaceful expression that doesn’t suit his face. His eyes are still sharp and intense though, staring out at Hanbin from the paper.

That night Hanbin can’t sleep. He tosses and turns and kicks off his sheets but rest doesn’t come so he gives up.  He does what he always does when he can’t sleep or when something’s bothering him, he paints. Switches on the lights in the living room and pulls out the latest piece he’s been working on. Squeezes fresh paint onto his palette.  There’s something calming to brushstrokes against canvas, watching the paint mix and swirl.  And in a way people are a little like paint, Hanbin thinks. Everybody has an individual shade and maybe some are more similar then others but in the end each is uniquely different. Falling in love is like mixing paint, when two people touch each other like that their colors mix and change and create something new, sometimes beautiful and sometimes not but always different. And the thing about mixing paint is there is no way to undo it, like it or not once those paints touch the colors will never be the same again. He and Jiwon are intertwined, like it or not, and nothing will undo them. They are forever changed for better or worse by what they shared, the marks they left on each others souls are permanent.

They’re at the gallery, the exhibition’s almost a month away and Hanbin’s already spending too much time there. Hanbin’s standing in the middle of the room and he’s sitting to the side, sketchbook lying open on his lap. Hayi’s saying something but he’s only half paying attention, flipping idly through the notepad. He turns the page to reveal the sketch of Jiwon he did the other day and his hand stills.

“Okay, I have the light designer coming in on Wednesday next week so you should start thinking about lighti- hey, are you even listening to me right now?”

Hanbin glances up, Hayi’s glaring at him with her hands on her hips and a slight purse to her lips.

“Yeah, sorry, just spaced out a little.”

She sighs and shakes her head in an exasperated gesture before launching back into what she was saying. Hanbin tries to pay attention but his eyes sink back down to Jiwon’s face, Jiwon’s body, and it’s a lost cause. He doesn’t know how long he drifts but he’s brought back to earth by the sound of Hayi’s voice over his shoulder.

“Who’s that?”

 He starts, slamming the sketchbook shut and spins to face her stammering out a reply.

“He’s no one. Just-just a friend.”

Hayi raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

“He’s very handsome.”

Hanbin doesn’t reply, just nods, hoping they can get off this subject soon. For some reason he doesn’t really understand he feels uncomfortable telling Hayi about Jiwon. Maybe it’s because she’s one of the few people in his life who didn’t know him while they were together, doesn’t look at him and see him defined by Jiwon.  She’s doesn’t let it go though, like a terrier she sinks her teeth in and shakes.

“Is he the old friend you were meeting up with?”

“Yes.”

His tone is tight and clearly doesn’t invite any more conversation and so she finally drops it, but she clearly isn’t happy with his answers. The rest of the session is unproductive, Hayi’s snippy and terse and if Hanbin didn’t know better he’d say she was annoyed with him. They call it quits early and they both go home unsatisfied. That night Hanbin tosses, trying to think of what he could have done to bother her and comes up with nothing. The next day he brings her her favorite drink from work and she takes it with a smile, and just like that Hanbin is forgiven.

Hanbin has the day off work and he’s lying on his couch staring idly at nothing. The weather is dark and cold, the smell of snow is in the air and the outside world is generally uninviting. He just finished one of his paintings for the exhibitions and doesn’t have the energy or inspiration to start another just yet. He’s not so much suffering from artist’s block as he is painfully bored, and his thoughts wander to Jiwon. Rolling over he pulls his phone off the charger and, a little uncertainly, sends him a text.

Would you mind if I came over again? Feel a little uninspired.

His phone buzzes less then a minute later. It’s from Jiwon, of course.

Of course not, come on up.

It feels different this time, there’s something heavy in the air as Jiwon opens the door to let him in. He follows him in, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.  The apartment looks cleaner then the previous times Hanbin’s seem it, there aren’t as many dishes piled in the sink and things are at least shoved in cabinets and under tables instead of lying out on the floor.

“So, how do you want me this time.”

Hanbin shrugs, he doesn’t have a specific image in mind this time, just wants a reference point for something.

“Just do whatever you’d normally be doing right now. Just kinda ignore me.”

Jiwon smiles, almost a little flirty,

“Alright, I’ll try my best.”

Hanbin feels the back of his neck heat and busies himself with pulling his sketchbook out of his bag and sharpening a pencil. When he looks up Jiwon’s on the couch, head bent over a notebook and pencil in hand writing. He doesn’t speak, just settles quietly back into an overstuffed armchair and starts to sketch. They sit like that for while, each on their own world. It starts to rain and the apartment is filled with the sound of raindrops, the light scratching of pencil on paper. It’s peaceful and soft and gentle, and Hanbin remembers how many evenings they had spent like this alone but together at all once. The thought aches somewhere deep inside him and he unconsciously presses the tip of his pencil harder against the paper. It snaps and the harsh sound startles him out of his reverie. It takes him a little while to settle back into his rhythm and even when he does he still feels a little off, a little stiff. He’s working on a particularly difficult curl on the back of Jiwon’s neck when he glances up to get a better look and freezes. Jiwon’s bent over his notepad, one leg tucked under him and back curved in a perfectly smooth arch. He’s clasping the end of his pencil in his teeth, eye brows pulled together in confusion or concentration. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and Hanbin can see each ridge and dip of his spine through the thin material. Suddenly it’s too much, Jiwon’s too much and Hanbin needs to get away. He stands up abruptly, sketchpad tumbling to the floor. Jiwon looks up, pencil falling from in between his lips and eyebrows raised.

“Everything okay?”

Hanbin nods,

“Yeah, just need some water.”

He turns away from Jiwon’s searching eyes and heads to the kitchen, pulling a glass from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. He drains it in one gulp, sets the cup down and wipes at his mouth but he still feels hot and unsettled. He turns to head back to the living room and comes face to face with Jiwon. He’s standing close, maybe a foot away and Hanbin wonders how he missed him coming over. His eyes are hooded and heavy, dark and hungry and they scare Hanbin a little. He takes a small step back, just to put some space in between them but Jiwon just takes a step forward. Step after step Hanbin moves away and Jiwon follows until Hanbin stumbles, back against the wall and suddenly there’s nowhere left to go.

 “Look at you.”

Jiwon breathes, voice husky and low. He’s close enough that Hanbin can feel his breath on his cheek, feel the warmth from his body on his skin and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight. Jiwon’s staring straight into his eyes and Hanbin can’t look away.

“You’re ing art Hanbin, can’t you see it?”

He swallows hard. They stay like that, frozen, but they’re straining towards each other like magnets that never quite touch.

Suddenly Hanbin’s phone rings, cutting through the tension like a razor and Jiwon pulls back in surprise. Hanbin lets out the breath he was holding and pushes hurriedly past Jiwon, head down not making eye contact.

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

Then he pretty much runs out of the apartment, not looking back. The phone call turns out to be spam, some robotic female voice telling him he’s won a free trip to Japan and he hangs up. When he gets back the safety of his apartment he walks out to his small balcony and stands for a long time, letting the rain soak into his hair and clothes till he’s shivering and his fingers are red from the cold and even then he still feels like he’s burning. Feels like Jiwon’s a fever inside his bones.

He feels like they’re hurtling towards something, he and Jiwon, something he’s not sure he’s ready for. And he knows now that he stills wants Jiwon, wants him so bad it hurts sometimes. He just doesn’t know if that’s enough.