[01:29pm] Renjun draws you in the most beautiful ways possible. It doesn't matter what pose you're in; you could be sat on a stool or you could be laying on the floor or you could be in the middle of the room he keeps his art in, cold underneath the pure white silk linen covering your body, the image of a piece of a broken sculpture amongst perfected artworks perfectly played by you — he makes you look so beautiful it seems real, even though it's rehearsed.
Always, he drew you like he loves you. Your favorite has to be the sketch he's drawing right now.
"Don't move," he furrows his brows, sighing softly. His hands move gently to capture the soft curves of your silhouette.
You blink at him, looking down at the floor next to the bed. He's sat on the futon he's supposed to sleep on because of a particularly heavy storm outside making you unable to go home. By ritual, you had to take a bath before going to sleep — leading you to this situation, sitting in the middle of his bed with one of his sleeping clothes on, hair a little damp and face bare.
"God, you look like a divine being right now. Why are you so cruel?" He laughs, shaking his head. His eyes darkens as it shifts to you, voice dropping a few octaves when he speaks, "Why are you sitting there looking so adorable? If you keep looking like that..."
"You told me... not to move, Renjun."
He smiles sweetly, resuming his gaze to the paper he's drawing on.
"Exactly. So drive me crazy and make me mad, Y/N."
He does not love you. Yes he speaks like an open book, but books are liars — they make painful things seem beautiful. He might say that he loves you but he doesn't; maybe he does but he wouldn't, he doesn't love you enough to be in love with you. Artists like him feed on breaking their own hearts.
With his particular liking to how you looked with little tears, he no doubt will enjoy breaking yours, too.
You were his masterpiece. He would dream of how beautiful you'd look once he's done with you, and after that for a while he might even grow fond of you, but you know all too well the end of this romance: he'd grow tired of you, look away, learn to look back, and find some sort of... loathe in his heart. He'd hate you, at the very end.
He put too much of himself in you. He sees himself in every angle you stood.
And God knows how much he can't stand himself, let alone feel love for more than fleeting seconds.
So he doesn't love you.
"I like the way you look right now."
But he doesn't love you.
"Be my muse forever, okay?"
But he doesn't love you.
"Oh God, you are beautiful."
He doesn't. Love. You.
But he draws you like he does, speaks to you like he does, treats you like he does — art is pretense, and in a way, you're as much of an artist as he is. Maybe that's why it doesn't hurt as much as it should.
You were way too used to keep your rehearsed smile, and feel your rehearsed emotions. You were his muse, his masterpiece, his art.
every summer, you traveled to the coast, where your grandparents' sweets shop sat pristinely in a colorful beach town awash with tourists and money that burned holes in their pockets. they were generous with tips and that, along with the kindness of your family members and the gorgeous sunsets that reflected red and orange on the ocean, made for some perfect summer memories.
you'd spent all semester looking forward to this trip, burning through your finals in a caffeinated, yet exhausted rage that left you spinning when it was over. the very next day, you hopped on the train with a single suitcase and prepared for the long trip to the sea. you watched through the window as city buildings melted into long grassy plains into palm trees, the music in your earbuds growing more upbeat. it was finally time for your summer to begin.
your grandmother greeted you at the tiny station, pinching your cheeks and grinning wide. she wrapped you in a warm embrace, rambling about the renovations they'd just completed and how gorgeous you would find the shop.
"i won rock-paper-scissors, so i get to pick you up while he manages the homefront," she said with a wink, and you chuckled in response, climbing into her little red four-door sedan. it was only late afternoon, sun and sky bright, but your trip had worn you out and you fought the urge to drift into sleep. instead, the two of you spent the drive catching up as you filled her in on your classes and friends and she updated you on your favorite locals.
"oh," she said, "it was so sad to see the songs move out, but a new family bought their place fast! i swear, it felt like a matter of days before they were all settled in. they have this adorable puppy, and a boy your age!"
"wow, for real?" it was rare to see people your own age there, as most, like yourself, went to the colleges in the northern cities. "where's he working?"
"that art store mr. liu runs- he says the kid's doing a good job."
"huh. i'm glad he finally gave in and hired some help."
she snorted. "tell me about it, kiddo. i've known that geezer my whole life and that damned stubbornness never changes. renjun's a real persuasive character, i'll tell you that. not to mention one hell of an artist! if you stop in, i'm sure you can see some of his stuff."
renjun, huh...
-
when you finally reached the candy shop, you jumped out of the car, bouncing with childish excitement to see your grandfather again. fondly, your grandmother chuckled.
“c’mon kiddo, help me carry in your bags. my arms are old and frail, y’know!”
“oh!” you quickly grabbed your biggest suitcase. “sorry, ma!”
she just laughed once more, waving you inside and upstairs to the living area. “put your stuff down, then change into uniform!”
your grandmother put you straight to work every summer, but you still played along, whining. “but i just got hereeeeee...”
patting your head, she mimicked your tone. “but i have arthritisssssss...”
you cracked up. “ma, my first boyfriend thought you were my aunt.”
“and now look at me! an old hag.”
“fine, baba yaga, i’ll get changed.”
“baba yaga!?” fake-offended, she pinched your cheek and waltzed out. “this witch is off to nap! wake me up when we’ve closed for the day!”
grin plastered on your face, you pulled a vintage red-and-white pinstripe apron from the closet, your shiny nametag still pinned on from last summer. it was time to get to work.
-
your grandfather pulled you into a tight hug as soon as you appeared behind the counter. “there’s my favorite part-timer!”
“and favorite grandkid!” you exclaimed, hugging him back just as tight.
he shushed you, eyes bright. “can’t let the others find out.”
hand on your hips, you surveyed the shop. at the moment, there were six or so people milling about, all in various kinds of beachwear. the wooden shelves, all built by your grandfather himself, were stacked with candies. while they sold some name brand candies, most were made by your grandmother and other locals with time on their hands. you’d tried it a handful of times and, while far more difficult than you’d expected, the feeling of making a great batch was rewarding beyond belief. then to see little kids running around enjoying your handmade candy? the most fulfilling feeling in the world.
the shop itself was small, with natural wood and sea glass decorations accentuated by sky blue walls. it always smelled like the beach, since you were right on the boardwalk, and while that meant that it often got crowded in the little building, it also meant that your grandparents weren’t suffering from a lack of business, which gave you and your parents a great sense of relief. your favorite part of the shop, though, was the old fashioned bronze bell, which rang every time the door-
ring!
in walked a middle-aged man you’d never seen before.
“mr. huang!” your grandfather said. “good to see you stop in.”
the man smiled politely. “good to see you too. it’s a lovely day out.”
“isn’t it just! mr. huang, this is the grandkid i was telling you all about.” he turned to you. “this is mr. huang, his family bought the songs’ old place.”
you reached out to shake his hand, excited and a little nervous. “it’s nice to meet you! my grandmother just told me that your son is working for mr. liu now, right?”
he shook your hand firmly. “why, yes he is. a bright kid, that boy, if i may brag.”
laughing, you were about to continue the conversation when a family approached the register, and you rushed to check them out. they had a small mountain of items, and your grandparents were committed to the vintage aesthetic, so by the time you finished handwriting their receipt and checking off their purchases in the store’s book, mr. huang had selected a bag of chocolates and two caramel bars.
shortly after handing you the exact change, he took the chocolates in hand and pushed the caramel bars to you. “would you take one of those to my son for me, please? i’m afraid he doesn’t get off work until half past eight. the other one is payment, if you don’t mind.”
your grandfather popped his head up from where he’d been fixing the candies at the front of the counter. “go ahead, kid. it’s an awful short walk and the breeze is perfect right now.”
smiling, you couldn’t help but agree, especially if you’d get caramel out of it. “of course! thank you, mr. huang.”
“thank you. i’m so sorry i must rush off, but have a nice day.”
he was out the door in a flash, and your grandfather straightened up with a smirk. “now, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say he was trying to set you two up.”
“pa!”
belly-laughing, he shrugged. “i dunno, kid, your last boyfriend was an artist too.”
you scoffed and grabbed the two bars from the countertop, stuffing them into the front pocket of your apron. “i’m going to deliver these in record time.”
“now, now, take it slow! have a nice conversation! not too nice, though, if you-”
you were definitely out the door in record time.
-
admittedly, your grandfather was right about the breeze. it tousled your hair without whipping it into a frenzy and cut down on the heat significantly. yet, the sun beat down and you found yourself weaving under storefronts for some shade, waving at the shopkeepers you’d known your whole life. the atmosphere here was so warm and friendly that you always missed it when autumn hit.
it took a mere five minutes to reach mr. liu’s art shop, tucked away in a back alley, slightly distanced from the rush of the boardwalk. it was quieter here, and you inhaled deeply before entering, no bell on the door to announce your arrival. when you were younger, you stopped by somewhat often, but as you got older and busier, you came in less and less, occupied by your studies and your grandparents’ store. the inside of the shop was as beautiful as ever, though. paintings and sketches covered the walls, making it near impossible to see the original paint. while the few windows were small, mr. liu used an assortment of small lamps rather than fluorescent lights, making the shop feel warm and cozy. in the back, a line of easels showed off painting after painting of the same dishware set, most likely from his tuesday art classes. you stepped closer, trying to get a better look. you had a habit of trying to pick your favorite every time they were on display, and you were in the midst of analyzing them when a boy exited the back room.
he blinked a couple times, then put on a polite, customer-service smile. “hello! let me know if you need help finding anything.”
pausing, you took a moment to process his two-toned hair, blond on the bottom and black on top, big brown eyes, and collared black shirt. his face was a little delicate... pretty. the way it contrasted with his sharp jaw and deep voice had you feeling knocked off-kilter. “um...” his nametag read renjun. “yeah, actually.”
renjun nodded, focused on you.
“uh, well, your dad stopped by the candy store and asked me to deliver this to you.” you pulled out one of the caramel bars and passed it to him. his hands had specks of dried green paint on them.
“he...” renjun reached up to rub his forehead, visibly embarrassed but smiling genuinely now. “i’m so sorry, i can tip-”
“oh, don’t worry!” you cut him off, rushing to explain. “he got me one too!” grinning sheepishly, you pulled yours out of your pocket.
the boy was speechless, but sighed. “still... here, come up front.”
gingerly, you followed him to the counter. “i really didn’t mind, it’s nice out. plus it meant i got a bonus break.”
he laughed a little at that, then started flipping through a black sketchbook left on the counter, stopping near the end to gently pull out a page. “if you like it, you can keep it.” he shifted a little, nervous.
you looked down at a gorgeous painting of the night sky. the silhouette of a tree took center stage, branches bending and reaching up. brilliant blues and purples framed bright white stars. it was breathtaking.
“this is... beautiful.” you tore your eyes up, gazing into renjun’s. “that was a two dollar candy bar.”
his shoulders shook with giggles, and, just like the painting, you found it far too hard to look away. “it’s okay. it’s an apology for the inconvenience.” now that he’d gathered himself, you couldn’t help but find his posture regal. there was something prince-like about the way he held his head, polite and self-assured. “my dad... he’s a little worried about the lack of people my age here. so he’s going overboard.”
you shook you head emphatically. “not at all! i mean, i’m glad he came in.” oh no, that sounded so weird. “i rarely visit the art shop these last few years, so yeah...”
renjun nodded along. “i understand.”
awkward silence filled the space between you. shifting, you took a step back.
“well, i have to head back to work... i’ll come by again, though, if that’s okay!”
the boy smiled, teasing. “i can’t exactly stop you.”
-
the next day was a saturday, meaning that the shop was packed. you helped your grandparents from sunrise to sundown, and your feet ached by the end. wrapping you in a hug, your grandmother thanked you and, as per usual, pinched your cheeks hard enough to sting.
“you are an angel, kiddo. i’ll make your favorite for dinner.”
“see, that’s why i visit!”
she flicked your ear, yet chuckled, and slowly made her way up the stairs to start cooking. your grandfather went to help her, but paused in his tracks.
“my gosh, i forgot to check the mail. would you be able to do that for me real quick? i swear the rest of the night is yours!”
you agreed easily, making your way to the metal box mounted on the outside wall. opening it, you pulled out a stack of papers: two magazines, a couple bills, and one envelope with... only your name on it. puzzled, you headed upstairs and showed your grandparents.
“well,” your grandfather said, “open it up! maybe you’ve got a secret admirer,” he winked.
you and your grandmother scoffed in unison.
“if it’s anyone giving you trouble, you’d better pray for them,” she said, tapping her wooden spoon to her hand threateningly.
finally, you opened the envelope, and pulled out a small watercolor painting. it was abstract, but incredibly pretty, with pinks, blues, and yellows blending together in a soft, simple design.
“wow...” you whispered, reverent.
your grandfather leaned closer to appraise it. “now ain’t that something. dear, come take a look.”
sighing, your grandmother abandoned her food prep, but smiled when she saw it. “wonder who that could be from,” she grinned.
you couldn’t help but blush, and your grandfather guffawed.
“might i suggest another candy delivery to a certain art shop?”
“pa!” you ducked your head, but... “yeah.” a soft smile overtook your face. “maybe i’ll make the bar myself this time.”
-
this year, when summer ended, it was with lips on yours and yet another painting slipped into your back pocket.
a painting with a phone number written in the bottom left corner.
[ 9:02 a.m. ] artist!renjun gapes in shock when he realizes he submitted his doodles of you instead of his portfolio... and somehow, it ended up in the school's display case.
Renjun watched the light illuminate your figure, giving your hair a different kind of glow - perhaps more magical than usual - as he sketched the curve of your nose, delicate strokes of his pencil lining his notebook page. The coffee on his table has grown cold within the past twenty minutes, and he spared it no glance as his gaze remained on you, entranced by your beauty.
Someone placed their bag on the chair next to him and he jumped up, his pencil creating a harsh line where your eyes were supposed to be before landing on the ground beneath his feet. He looked up in frustration to find his younger friend looking at him with apologetic eyes as Renjun gave him a cold stare.
"Sorry," Chenle mumbled, seating himself next to his friend, glancing over his shoulder to find what he was drawing once Renjun turned back to his canvas. "Maybe you should speak to them. You know, instead of staring at them and drawing them like some creep," the younger boy suggested.
Renjun rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should mind your own business." He closed his notebook and placed it back in his bag, picking up his coffee. "And speak to your elders with some respect." He took a sip of the beverage and immediately chocked when he noticed how cold it has gotten. Was he really in there for so long?
People from nearby tables looked over at him for a split second, but your gaze lingered, and when Renjun looked up after managing to calm his coughing fit, his eyes met yours. It lasted only for so long before you turned away in embarrassment, a silly smile on your face for a few moments after.
"Whatever." He heard Chenle mumble but he was too busy playing with the cup in his hands. Maybe someday.
A few tables away, you were zoning out from your conversation with your mother, absentmindedly swirling the iced tea with the straw inside your plastic cup. You heard her say something about you daydreaming again but you couldn't help it; not with a piece of art like Renjun sitting so close. When you came over here with your best friend, she told you to talk to him. She swore she saw him looking in your direction but you were too shy to even hold eye contact with him, let alone start up a conversation.
artist!renjun gracefully brushed yet another stroke on his canvas, filling it with his depiction of your beauty, that was ‘too incredible for words’ and ‘could only be expressed through art’, according to your creative boyfriend.
Stifling a laugh at the adorable expression of concentration Renjun was making, you interrupted him slightly, curious of the masterpiece that stood hidden by the easel, “Please, please, pleeeeeease can I look at it, angel? I just wanna—”
“NO! Do not move, Y/N,” he burst, holding up his free hand in front of him, “I’m almost done!”
You rolled your eyes at that, having heard that sentence almost 47 times in the past 6 hours, and tensed your body yet again so that you would stay completely still, “You do know I’m only doing this for the kisses, right?”
A bubbly laugh elicited from the boy, his lips turning upwards in a delightful smile, and his eyes crinkling ever so slightly, “Well, don’t worry, you’re getting your kisses soon because all I have to do now is sign it.”
With those words, Renjun gently placed his paintbrush in the jar of water he kept beside him, on the cluttered table filled with an abundance of paints, palettes, and brushes, and picked up a thick, black pen - the one you bought for him that was customised with his name on for his birthday.
You admired the way your boyfriend’s hand effortlessly flicked across the bottom corner of the canvas, already picturing his flawless signature.
“Oh my god, can you stop being good at everything?” you teased him, standing up from the bizarre position you had been stuck in for hours on end, stretching out your stiff muscles, and tiptoeing over the brown tarp that laid scattered on the floor beneath Renjun’s easel.
Once you reached the said boy, he dramatically wiped the sweat off of his face, before clutching both of your hands in his. “Okay, are you ready, baby?” he spoke in a small voice, which was layered with slight fear in case you weren’t satisfied by his artwork.
You nodded eagerly, a wide grin etching itself onto your face, which was more than enough to reassure Renjun that no matter what he presented to you, you would still shower him with compliments. And he definitely wasn’t wrong about that.
As soon as he pulled you towards him, he spun your body around to face what you could only describe as the most unique and exquisite interpretation of yourself you had ever laid eyes on.
Renjun’s suggestion of a casual, lazy concept - which consisted of you wearing a flowy, ivory blouse and pajama-style jet black shorts, posing on a cream-coloured rug - complemented the mocha hues of the background he painted and the faint rays of light that streamed in from your left.
Each singular sunbeam highlighted a specific part of you: the cupid’s bow of your peach-tinted lips, the subtle raise of one of your eyebrows, the gleaming white of your teeth, the curve of your hips against the fluffy rug, the goosebumps on your exposed shoulders.
He captured all of your features immaculately and made you look more magnificent than you ever thought you could be.
“I- Renjun, this is- this is phenomenal, baby, it’s absolutely unbelievable. I’m truly speechless, wow,” you breathed out, snaking your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and nuzzling your head in his chest.
“Well, the reason why it looks like that is because of my gorgeous muse,” Renjun laughed gently, brushing the loose baby hairs out of your face and kissing the crown of your forehead.
Chuckling at his little comment, you continued to admire him and his painting,“You’re so artistic and the way you’ve used your gifts to create masterpieces like these is just incredible. I love it, Junnie, and, more importantly, I love you.”
Renjun’s cheeks were suddenly flushed with rouge, and an enormous desire to kiss you overcame him. With a timid ‘love you too’, his lips finally attached onto yours, contentment filling his body as he realised how lucky he was to date a living, breathing work of art like you.
You have some paint right here, you point out to Artist!Renjun.
Here?, he asks, completely missing the spot.
You shake your head with a light chuckle, reaching out to help him yourself. Your fingers brush against the corner of his lips as you wipe away the color. He blushes like mad at the contact and prays that you can’t feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks. (You totally can, you just don’t want to embarrass him)
