Summary: Photographer Kihyun AU
Yoo Kihyun had an eye for the beauty found in the simplicity of everyday life.
The way the sunset danced off the faces of the branches of trees stretching up tall towards the sky. Puddles fresh after rain reflecting God’s apology and hope for a new day. Even eyes that reflected emotions that ran so deep a mortal couldn’t decipher them. The rain dripped slowly washing clear luminescence over the cafe windows turning people and structures into distorted figures with nowhere to go. One figure stood out amongst the mundanity.
Ethereal. That was the only word Kihyun knew to describe you as. Your presence was ephemeral, for a moment you were there only to disappear within the next. This occurred for 3 days. Your eyes would meet through the window of the coffee shop only for you to walk around the corner disappearing into thin air. He imagined if your lips were as soft as they appeared to be, he wanted to make love to you with such vigor that you’d begin to question the realms of fantasy and real life.
But that’s what troubled him most.
It’s a crescent moon tonight. Kihyun is in love with the way she hides herself from the world, going through frequent phases of life. He reaches for his camera pointing and focusing the lens towards the sky, his finger releases the button slowly the sound of the shutter satisfying him in the deepest parts of himself. The moon is nothing compared to you, how nothing quite compares to you; you represent the vivacity of life.
Kihyun doesn’t expect it when you appear in front of his lens, his finger moving faster than his brain capturing you in your essence. He doesn’t even wonder when you somehow found yourselves sitting at his kitchen table steam encasing the short distance that separates you.
It’s midnight by the time he’s been able to catch his breath laughter filling the crinkle of his eyes and open spaces in his ribs. Nothing compares to the way your cheeks light up incandescently as you swear “It’s even better in person. “ One of the great loves of his life, Kihyun called his work motioning to the hundreds of photographs that littered the walls connected by clotheslines and pins. Each work different defining the minimalistic but deafening style of his works. He was praised and adorned by appraisers, he loved seeing the juxtaposition between those who viewed his work as a commodity rather than seeing it as an expression of beauty.
Fantasy and reality coexist like pleasure and pain. One cannot be found without the other nearby, the balance of life.
It’s 1:00 AM, when his hands find their way to your waist and your lips to his neck, he tries not to think too much about the fact that you’ve just met and barely learned each other’s names just a few hours ago. The sound of the rain against the window calms his tense nerves, along with the way you tenderly kiss the skin beneath his ear. He admits the feeling is not foreign to him, himself having indulged in quite a few meaningless encounters before; but with you it feels vivacious. He taste life on your lips as his tongue runs against them craving entrance.
Kihyun eases you onto the bed watching the way your figure transforms under the crimson lights. He apologizes for the lack of space because after all few artists can ever be separated from their work. Tables take up space in the corners of the room each covered with developing film immersed in chemical baths. The clothespins that covered every inch of the kitchen reappear in the room touching corners just as Kihyun’s hands meet your thighs. Suddenly it’s as if their bodies have known each other for years, sweat lines the nape of his neck as he pushes your leg back wanting to feel you just a bit more.
You’re close and he can tell by the way you tighten around him, arms gripping his in an attempt to stop your orgasm from hitting you. It’s pure ecstasy for Kihyun, as he wished you were beginning to question whether this was real or a dream you had conjured in order to escape the qualms of life. Your moans are music to his ears a symphony even Mozart couldn’t create, he meets your eyes guarded by heavy lids falling victim to the sensations Kihyun was creating. He couldn’t hold on much longer the curve of your lips, the shape of your eyes becoming a memory that he wedged between visions of clear skies and steaming cups of black coffee. He tensed for a moment, pulling away to litter your skin with viscous strips of white.
“Kihyun.” You whisper, your voice is quiet but heavy in the small space between you.
“Y/N.” For a second Kihyun doesn’t recognize his own voice, he laughs to himself knowing the moment you touched his thigh he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.
The moment you’ve both stepped out of the shower and found comfort in his sheets, sleep has found its way to you both. Kihyun’s sleep is dreamless and restless he tosses and turns till his mind is forcing him upright into the glowing hue of crimson. It’s 3:00 AM the vermillion digits mocking him, he looks to his side expectant hope filling his chest only to deflate at the absence of you. Kihyun rises from the bed sidestepping the cords and lines that connect and meet within his space, he searches for anything that has connection to you but comes up empty.
His throat feels dry as he reaches the kitchen, hands pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. The connection couldn’t have been one sided or at least that was what Kihyun told himself as he made his way back to his makeshift darkroom. He searched among the bins for the film he had developed earlier, hoping your face would make it’s way amongst the blur and chaos. Until he found it…
Fantasy and reality coexist like pleasure and pain. One cannot be found without the other nearby, the balance of life.
Kihyun lifted the photo gently as if he was holding new life, sure that somehow his vision was betraying his consciousness. Where your silhouette had once illuminated the photograph was merely a blur of white, leaving no evidence that your existence was even a possibility.
“Kihyun..” He was startled at the mention of his name dropping the photograph to the floor gripping the edge of the table. He turned to face the owner of the voice only to be welcomed by the glow of the moon.
After all it was 3:00 AM.
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