ADONIS. － k.ji + d.ks

°three°

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd,
And ev'ry fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or Nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

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Every dent in his skin, every bump on his face, Kyungsoo's irises drank them in and reflected them onto his canvas.

The colour of sand under the early noon sun, that was the shade of Jongin's flesh. Smooth, lacking any imperfections or scars which would be left after years of living, years of mistakes.

It was an inhuman beauty, Kyungsoo believed, and his hand spent hours in the attempt of replicating it.

Jongin did his best to stay utterly still, but the intensity of the painter's gaze upon his body made his chest burn and yield to an unforgiving flame, and so he fidgeted on his stool, fingers picking at his flannel shirt's sleeves and eyes flitting about the room.

Despite his bashfulness, the silence between them remained untainted by discomfort, comfortably wordless as Kyungsoo painted and Jongin posed.

It was a scene which repeated itself a multitude of times, always around that hour, when the university was mostly barren and the sun was warmly caressing all it could touch before resting.

Jongin didn't mind the subtle pain in his lower back and didn't complain about it either, for certainly Kyungsoo was suffering worse.

When they came to share words, it was typically the shorter to initiate the conversation and the taller to stutter the continuation.

Questions such as how he got into theatre, what he loved about it and what play they were currently rehearsing for.

Kyungsoo noticed the glint of passion within Jongin's eyes which would show even from across the class, the way his tone became happier, steadier and the corners of his rose lips subconsciously turned upwards.

"It's like th-the feeling of being free but exposed. Thrilling a-and frightening, that rush yo-you get w-when you're about to fall but catch your-yourself in time," he concluded, eyes wistful as they stared out at the trees softly swaying behind the windows.

"I think tha-that's what I like most about it. Not be-being mys-self but fully transforming i-into another person, another creature, wi-with a different p-past and character, a story all-all of their own. Right now we're w-working on Macbeth. Do you － Do you know the storyline?"

Kyungsoo hummed, a faint smile on his lips as he had let the other talk on, Jongin's tender voice playing as soothing music dancing into his ears, hollowing his mind and filling his heart.

"A tragic play revolving around ambition and an unbridled lust for power, the metamorphosis of a hero to a villain."

He dipped his brush into a dark toned yellow.

"It follows Macbeth, a general returning from battle, who, after having encountered three witches with three prophecies, believes he has the chance to reign over the kingdom of Scotland."

His irises lifted and met with Jongin's own, entranced, wide and wonderous.

"Encouraged by his wife, he kills the current king Duncan, and earns his place on the throne; however, he soon spirals into a guilt-driven paranoia and madness. Is that more or less correct?"

A second passed then two, and then Jongin blinked as if breaking out of a stupor, and fervently nodded his head, lips subtly parted.

"Y-Yes. That's ho-how it goes."

Kyungsoo's smile stretched further and he proceeded with his work, studying the colours below the other's left eye, and settling on depicting them.

"Isn't it such an explicit representation of human nature? Quick to believe the truths which best suit us and easily driven to extreme lengths for power and wealth. Weak minded and corrupt at heart, people are all the same."

His words drifted into the air whilst his hand painted, expression still light and tone calm, as if he were to be discussing the day's weather.

Jongin blinked once again, long lashes fluttering like the wings of a young raven, and his throat moved with a swallow.

"I-I don't th-think I'm li-like that. No-Not everyone i-is that way."

The bristles paused their movements on the canvas, and Kyungsoo peered at the man with amusement in his gaze.

"Are you sure? I know I'm like that, for I'm not above any others," he stopped, glanced over Jongin for a moment and then sighed, returning to his work.

"But perhaps, should your beauty be faithful to that which nestles within you, then maybe you're right; there's a chance you might be uniquely different."

Jongin looked away, cheeks a cherry pink as his sight found home on the leaves waving at him from outside.

"You al-always speak in-in an almost th-theatrical way. Do you d-do it on purpose?"

The painter pursed his lips prior to swiping his tongue over the lower one, an action which went unnoticed by Jongin, just as the expression his face held when looking towards the model did.

"Not really," he replied simply, eyes tracing the shapes of Jongin's profile.

"I'm just long-winded in speech, I guess. Does it bother you?"

Jongin shook his head, gaze flickering back towards the other and shyly dropping to his lap.

"N-Not at all. I act-actually really like i-it. It's ni-nice listening t-to you."

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