NCT Oneshots {ot23} | open

Piece of Art: XiaoRen

▹prompt: my everything
▹word count: 1211
▹genre: angst, long-distance, fluff
▹warnings: n/a

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹❀◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

4 o'clock.

That was when Xiaojun's bus was due.

But 4 o'clock came. The bus came too, and Xiaojun wasn't on it.

Renjun had perked up and pushed to the front of the line of people waiting to get on, but his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. He had desperately interrogated the driver, even shoved a sketch in his face, but he'd sadly shaken his head.

So Renjun retreated back under the cover of the bus stop and thought that maybe the bus was running late. He hoped, prayed that Xiaojun was fine. There hadn't been a crash. He was fine.

He will turn up.

Renjun flicks to a clean page in his sketchbook. It's a premium quality one, bought by Xiaojun for his birthday. His heart sink deeper into loneliness when he realises most pages are full of drawings of Xiaojun. Renjun doesn't need a reference. He can recreate the piece of art that is his boyfriend entirely from memory, even though he left on a business trip four months ago. The drawings start off colourful, clearly documenting the acrylic phase he went through, then the new coloured pencils he purchased, doing every feature of the elder's face justice. In the more recent works, however, the colour fades to insecure pencil lines.

It's been four months since Renjun last hugged Xiaojun, since he was last curled up in his arms, since he last kissed his lips. Something about the number four haunts Renjun. It's an unlucky number anyway, but he hadn't been so convinced by the superstitions, until now. Today he's very sure that the number four is cursed.

Rain patters against the bus stop, creating a dull but soothing rhythm that helps slow the pulse of his heart back to a healthy rate. A car ambles past and the drops of water shimmer in the headlights, likes jewels hidden in the darkness. He stores the memory as inspiration for a future painting, then allows Xiaojun's face to take centre stage once more. His pencil glides across the paper, but there's too much weight in the strokes and the shading isn't satisfactory enough. He's been sat here all afternoon and has produced four mediocre drawings. Four. Again. He needs to do a fifth to ease his mind, remove the curse of that number.

But the pencil doesn't cooperate with his hand and his hand doesn't cooperate with his brain. His wrist hurts. His heart hurts. A breath hitches in his throat and he rubs furiously at his eyes to stop any tears from falling. There's a college student sat mere feet away from him. He can feel her eyes sneaking glances in his direction.

Another bus comes and goes, taking the student with it and leaving Renjun alone with his thoughts. He checks the time on his phone. He smiles sadly at the lockscreen photo of him and his boyfriend, then just about catches the numbers 5:03 before the screen turns to black, battery dead. Now he has no way of communicating with Xiaojun and feels even more alone on the street he's spent the entire afternoon on. The bus stop has a thin roof and three metal walls with adverts for the latest burgers and movies on them, and enough wind sneaks inside to snatch his breath away.

Four, long months ago, he had sat in same place on the same street, waiting for the bus to the airport with Xiaojun. Renjun had spent the morning reassuring Xiaojun that the plane would be safe, that he'd make it Europe unscathed, and a part of Renjun panics then. What if the plane crashed and not the bus?

He quickly recalls that Xiaojun texted him when the plane landed that morning, and Renjun rests a hand over his chest as he inhales, deep and slow, deep and slow.

It's okay. He'll turn up.

While waiting for the bus those four months ago, he was drawing Xiaojun with a pretty purple pen which had a tiny jewel on the end that sparkled when it hit the light. Xiaojun's eyes always sparkle, too. Renjun wants to snap the blunt pencil that has only failed him time and time again today.

Renjun remembers the way his head was resting on Xiaojun's broad shoulder as he lazily sketched away.

He loves drawing his boyfriend, but today it's a chore.

A third bus comes. Not quite the dreaded four, so Renjun fills with hope.

He flies to his feet.

"Xiaojun!"

He throws the sketchbook on the bench and launches himself into his boyfriend's arms. Xiaojun hurries under the bus stop for cover, ushering Renjun with him and pulling the smaller tight to his chest.

"Hi, baby." Xiaojun replies in his smooth voice that Renjun has only been able to hear over the phone for far too long.

Their hug is warm and sweet and everything Renjun needed.

Xiaojun is his everything.

He inhales his natural scent, relaxing even further when he notes how it hasn't changed in the slightest despite the multiple hotels Xiaojun jumped between.

"Missed you." Renjun mumbles against Xiaojun's shoulder. "Missed you so much."

Xiaojun rubs his hand up and down Renjun's back. Renjun doesn't want to ever let go.

"I missed you too." Xiaojun says. Renjun focuses on the gentle rise and fall of the elder's chest, melts into the rhythm as it settles, the excitement from rushing off the bus ebbing away into serene happiness.

Renjun's own breathing is much faster. Tears chokes his eyes, then the first drop falls when Xiaojun pulls away from the hug to unite their lips. So many emotions for so early in the evening. Neither of them slept the previous night, kept awake by anticipation that doesn't matter any more because Xiaojun is here, tenderly kissing his lips and looping his strong arms around the younger's waist to hold him closer.

"What took you so long?" Renjun asks, voice breathy. His lips graze against his boyfriend's when he speaks because they still haven't really parted yet. Xiaojun runs his fingers through Renjun's hair, damp from the rain.

"I stopped off to buy some ice cream for tonight. I texted you, baby." Xiaojun explains. Renjun slumps back against his chest.

"My phone died." He whimpers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Xiao. I... I'm stupid for not charging it and-"

"Shh." Xiaojun taps his cheek to stop the rambling. Renjun wipes his tears and gazes into his boyfriend's eyes with earnest, a desire to make up for the mistake despite the elder's insistence. "It's alright because I'm here now. Don't worry."

Renjun doesn't have the energy to respond in any way except with a nod, and Xiaojun accepts that and takes his hand into his own, the other occupied by his stuffed suitcase.

"Why don't you show me the drawings you've done when we get home? I've only seen them through a screen and I know that hasn't done them the justice they deserve." Xiaojun suggests.

Renjun's face lights up and he grabs his sketchbook and pencil. Confidence floods back into his head, eager to sink into the comfort of a cheesy movie and his boyfriend's duvet, ice cream and kisses dissolving over their tongues while Xiaojun soaks up every explanation of every piece of art.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹❀◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ