â : Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.
Scattered sheets and discarded clothes. Taehyun canât think, because his thoughts continue straying from a shirt hanging limp from the back of a chair, to stacks of CDâs teetering on the verge of collapse pushed into a corner, to a ring of keys on the way between the door and the bed. Fingers curled into his hair, he groans inwardly, wondering just why he had agreed to Seungyoon spending a few weeks at his place. Itâs at the otherâs insistence, as is a lot of things; some inane ramblings of how no one should spend the summer in solitude. The words seemed to ring true over the clink of bottles of butterbeer; not so much with all of Seungyoonâs clutter taking up what should be an empty apartment.
Seungyoon, of course, is then to blame for Taehyun standing still in front of the mirror with a tie in hand, unable to fix it on properly. He would hardly bother if it werenât for the exhibit they were to attend; an invitation forwarded from his fatherâs address to his own, some lost soul thinking his paternal figure still relevant to the scene. Glimpses of the paintings to be showcased had caught his attention (and Seungyoon thought itâd be a good idea).
His thoughts stray yet again and Taehyun reels them in on a leash as he, for the fifteenth time, messes up the knot of his tie and makes it into some fancy knot. For a minute he considers wearing it that way, resembling a cloth pendant dangling from his neck, turning side to side to admire a black and white reflection and smoothing dark, sleek strands back into place. The next thing he knows, his reflection is joined by Seungyoonâs and there are arms reaching over his shoulder, a chin tucked onto the top of crisp white fabric. âI hope this isnât your artistic statement of the night,â he says.
Taehyun grimaces, albeit brief. âI canât get it right.â
"Well then," Seungyoon catches his eye in the mirror and smiles. "Allow me." His fingers tug the thin strip of fabric loose and Taehyun is reminded of the dexterity of fingers spent hours picking at metal strings, so lost in watching how deftly they arrange the tie into what its meant to be that he doesnât realize how close they are until Seungyoonâs voice is a mere whisper against his ear. "How about now?"
Forcing his gaze up along the length of the mirror, he catches Seungyoonâs eyes and lets his lips curve into a faint smile. âCould be better,â he says, turning around so theyâre no longer communicating through glass reflections. They really are standing too close together for comfort, so close that Taehyun could count each individual lash framing Seungyoonâs eyes, but personal space is a concept heâs already relinquished long ago when it comes to the boy before him. âBut itâll do. Thanks.â
