Russ Mills (1/1)
Kyungsoo stumbles into Jongin’s shop one day because he’s in desperate need of shelter and his face is numbing. His blind flailing got him as far as the old, mahogany counter before he stumbles right into a mess of gangly limbs hunched over, rearranging strewn canvases. Kyungsoo plops unceremoniously on his butt and stares at the tall, curly haired creature in unconcealed shock. He scrambles upwards and backwards, apologizing with wide eyes and frozen hands. The tall, curly-haired human draws itself to its full height and Kyungsoo thinks, wow. He is tall. He turns around and braces himself for the blistering cold if not only to get away from this place where he has terribly embarrassed himself. But a voice that causes Kyungsoo to wince because it seems so loud and uncontained to be used in a place like this, tells him to “Stop! I’m sorry!” Kyungsoo freezes and turns, eyeing the tall person warily. He scans the shop quickly, trying to see if perhaps he has broken anything and does he have to pay for he is just a broke college student—“I’m Chanyeol.” His line of vision is refocused on the tall, gangly boy. Kyungsoo finds himself warming up to his large lopsided grin and slight twitch of the eye and against his better judgement, stays.
Kyungsoo later finds out that Chanyeol(tall, gangly boy) is the resident shopkeeper. Kyungsoo also finds out that the artist of the many paintings littered across the floor and haphazardly put up on the walls is upstairs at work, so keep it down. Chanyeol winks at this but Kyungsoo is unable to reply, for is it possible to ‘keep it down’ around loud Chanyeol. (No, it is not.) But nonetheless, Kyungsoo nods quietly and lets his eyes trail the art pieces.
They scream at him. Thick messy squirts of paint meet thin swishes of the brush. Large intimidating streaks swallow others, and Kyungsoo can't breathe because the art is Alive. Plain white canvases scream at Kyungsoo from behind layers upon layers of emotion, he realizes. Each painting an emotion, a feeling. A memory of the artist. Kyungsoo shivers despite the warm air pressing against him. A cup is slapped onto the wood before him, leaving behind a deep muted growl resonating off and into the paintings. Kyungsoo’s stomach twists uncomfortably. Something about the artist’s works unnerves him, leaving him feeling bare and transparent. Speaking of artist, Kyungsoo thinks. Taking a large satisfying sip from the mug(Chanyeol makes a mean hot chocolate, he makes a mental note.) he eyes the boy before asking, “Why haven’t I heard of the artist before-“ “Jongin. Kim Jongin.” Chanyeol informs him, flashing a toothy grin. “Right,” Kyungsoo fiddles with the handle of the mug, “Why haven’t I heard of him? Has any of his works been sold?” He continues. Kyungsoo is an art major. He appreciates Van Gogh and Leonardo as much as the next person. But Kyungsoo has a certain fascination for local, unknown artists. He likes the feeling of discovering something new, something buried beneath layers and layers of over-produced and overrated works constantly being advertised and shoved in his face. He has no care for fancy art exhibitions, not in the least. Hence his burning curiosity as to why this artist, who’s works leave him light-headed at a glance has yet to be discovered-
“They’re not for sale.” Kyungsoo can’t explain why the hairs on the back of his neck rise like they do and why he recognizes that voice despite having never met its owner. Almost silent dainty steps are heard, closer and closer. Kyungsoo feels dizzy but he doesn’t there turn around. He swallows at the notion that the boy behind him will be nothing like the boy he's envisioned in his head(A shadowy figure moves swiftly, leaving drops of paint in his wake.) “Ah! Jongin-ah. Meet Kyungsoo! He’s taking shelter here, it’s way too cold outside!” Kyungsoo winces again, he’s sure now that Chanyeol’s voice is too loud. “Uh… Kyungsoo?” It is then that Kyungsoo realizes just how odd he must look, his back facing them, slightly hunched over. He almost winces for a third time before stopping himself. “Anyway, they’re not for sale.” Kyungsoo sees the boy’s words in his head, rather than hearing them. He imagines long, lazy streaks across a blank canvas and an abrupt stroke at the end where he had stopped talking. Kyungsoo takes a breath and pushes his thoughts-just why is he so fascinated with this boy someone he doesn't even know-to the back of his mind before turning around.
Kyungsoo feels the breath knocked out of him and clenches his fists. Because the boy hasn’t disappointed him at all. Kyungsoo openly observes his tan, flawless skin. The endless pits in his dark brown orbs Kyungsoo seems to be sucked in the more he stares. His eyes continue to trail the features on his face, his long sharp nose gently reflecting the dim light in the room and his plump lips. Moving he notices. Moving. They’re moving. Kyungsoo snaps up just in time to catch the end of his sentence, “Leaving soon I presume?” It takes him a moment to register the meaning of his words before scrambling upwards. “S-Sorry. I’ll.. I should be going now. Thanks for the chocolate Chanyeol!” he stutters and shuffles backwards. He turns around before he can smash his face into the door and hurriedly takes his leave.
He tries hard not to think about white canvases screaming at him from behind layers and layers of paint, as he makes his way home.
Layers and layers, streaks and streaks of Feeling.
a/n I tried hard okay. This is my first fic and I haven't proof-read it yet and I'm probably going to regret it in the morning but oh well. There should be a part two soon. When I'm done dying of shame. Do leave a comment of feedback! I want to improve:D