ADONIS. － k.ji + d.ks

°ten°

A heart to love, and in that heart,
Courage, to make love known.

✾≠✾

A flurry of costumes, colours, make-up and Macbeth was on the stage, wife edging him towards committing murder and portraying his every passing emotion.

The audience held their breaths and the audience gasped.

They clapped whenever the lights were dimmed and the crew would busy themselves with changing the scenery, setting up the props and adjusting microphones.

Kyungsoo watched the entire play from the left wing, behind the black curtains that cut him off from the diverse universe captured and portrayed on stage, and his heart swelled with admiration, even if hidden behind an expression which remained bleak.

It was hardly noticeable, that glimmer in his eyes which appeared every time Jongin spoke his lines particularly well, but it was there and present, behind his crossed arms and tightly shut lips.

Once the story had been told, and the actors had united upon the stage to take a bow accompanied by the rowdy applause they received, Kyungsoo let the happiness he felt rip through on his face, a grin holding his mouth wide and raising his apple cheeks.

Jongin didn't wait a moment extra before he rushed off the stage and into Kyungsoo's open, awaiting arms.

The latter briefly stumbled at the impact, but their embrace only strengthened and Jongin nestled his face into the crook of Kyungsoo's warm neck, smiling against his skin and breathing heavily with excitement.

"How d-did I do?"

His question was muffled, but the joy and anticipation lacing it couldn't be clearer to Kyungsoo's ears.

"You did great," he replied, hands releasing the material of Jongin's costume to instead rub up and down his spine, languidly yet strongly.

"The best Macbeth I have ever witnessed."

Jongin's slender arms tightened even more around Kyungsoo's torso, securely, as if he were too afraid to let go.

Off the stage, no longer under the powerful lights and exposed before the eyes of many, Jongin shed the skin of his persona, the character of his Macbeth, and was nothing more than he as himself, the person he truly was.

Kyungsoo was not holding so dearly onto a figment of one's fiction, but rather a reality perhaps too good for an undeserving world, an undeserving him.

Jongin － his muse, his love, his Adonis － was as real as he.

His scent wafting up into Kyungsoo's nose, his erratic breaths heating Kyungsoo's neck, his delicate skin rubbing against Kyungsoo's own; Jongin was real indeed, and Kyungsoo couldn't love him more than he already did.

A living masterpiece, his inner beauty reflected outwards for the world to see and admire, for Kyungsoo to reflect in his art.

✾≠✾

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