ADONIS. － k.ji + d.ks

°prologue°

Hear my soul speak.
Of the very instant that I saw you,
Did my heart fly at your service.

✾≠✾

He adored colours, even if he mainly wore black, and he adored the chaos and vibrance of art, even if he loved silence.

Kyungsoo was the epitome of contradictions.

Many things he favoured, were often what one would imagine he hated.

His personal belongings were lined perfectly upon his chest of drawers, shoes sitting with their laces tucked inwards beside the door, and every trinket kept at a measured distance from the rest; yet his art supplies were in a disarray, paint brushes overflowing from that small cup which held them, carbon smudges dotting his sketchbooks' covers, acrylic stains on the rims of every one of his long sleeves.

Perhaps others found his lack of consistency unnerving, but Kyungsoo was well aware that there was nothing he could do about it.

He was the way he was, and if he weren't the way he was, then he wouldn't be who he truly is.

It was a fickle subject to ponder about and Kyungsoo didn't ponder much about it.

His spine ached from being seated on the wooden stool for so long, and his eyes stung from staring at the canvas before him for hours, but he had no intention of leaving until he had completed the piece he had started that morning.

It was nothing monumental, far from a magnum opus, but it captured the essence of autumn, the wonder that his favourite season presented each year.

His art professor was well-accustomed to his habits by then, staying after hours to continue his work until he was satisfied, and so it became normal for Kyungsoo to be the one to lock up the art room.

The class was large and turbulent with a disaster of easels and stools, wooden palettes and chipped cups used to carry water to rinse brushes.

As many environments Kyungsoo found homely, the art room was a mess of colours and marks, air heavy with the smell of paint and oil, certain times even dusty with particles of tinted chalk floating around.

It had been early afternoon when he had torn his gaze away from his work for a moment, noticing the faint sunlight filtering into the room and kissing every dark corner, illuminating his greasy skin and drying the blob of maroon paint he had on his palette.

He inhaled deeply, for the relaxation the scene gave him was something of spectacular, and then set back to work.

The campus was silent, not a breath in the distance nor the whisper of a voice, and Kyungsoo felt utterly alone, and he welcomed such a feeling.

He shifted his weight on the stool and adjusted his grip on the brush, momentarily recollecting himself and focusing on the imagery he had depicted.

Who knew how much time had passed? Who knew when the footsteps had grown closer?

The paint had enraptured his mind like a drug and didn't set him free until the door to the room opened almost delicately, hardly ripping through the quiet, but rather softly breaking it.

And then, above the flurry of colours his brush had set upon the once bleak canvas, his eyes fell upon that one person, and he knew he needed to capture such beauty with his own hand; the beauty of his Adonis.

✾≠✾

Uh i hope this is okay

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