Color Me Love [ONESHOT]
Title: Color Me Love [ONESHOT]
Author: 23elevens
Rating. PG-13
Word count: 3,055
Characters: Onkey
Genre: Reminiscence
Summary: In which this plotless thing is about Jinki's appreciation of Kibum's arts.
NOTE: birthday fic for dubudubudubu; the proper (sort of) A/N is after the fic! I hope you aren't too disappointed ;_; unbeta-ed.
Kibum is an artist, both literally and literally not so.
By day, Kibum breathes and lives and basically exists for his expertise and passion, spending good parts of daylight filling in his canvas with the most beautiful and extraordinary pictures that only his eyes and imagination can separate from the mundane things of the world. His hands fly over his work, painting and drawing and sketching, dancing a familiar routine that is complicated but yet immensely simple. Kibum mostly depicts out-of-the-world things, like dragons and unidentifiable wisps of energy and his ideas of a deepest fear, but sometimes stuffed in between his erratic his course-works in his bursting folder, Jinki finds a few pieces that are dedicated to things that Kibum's eye can actually see. He finds pictures of frolicking kittens and the fierce glare of a tiger (cats are one of Kibum's favorite things to draw), the occasional tree and idle landscapes- things that Jinki actually understands and appreciates with an endless grin on his face. All of them, regardless alien or earthling, tell stories in a language that Jinki sometimes hears of when Kibum deigns to share, though he prefers that he understands the language fully on his own and is not limited to being capable of only reading the normal, human objects on his own. But that's not where he finds joy in perusing the contents of Kibum's masterpieces, though- true joy only settles in when he discovers a picture of himself, whether a fanciful project or an uncompleted half-sketch. It is in reassurance that he finds joy, not narcissism. He finds joy in recognizing something else Kibum's artistic character deems worthy of his interest, subsequently understanding the subtle, but sure love that Kibum harbors for him under everything else.
Kibum, to most people, is often pure beauty at its finest. His raven-black hair (for now) sits in an odd asymmetrical cut, with his slanting fringe covering the albino-white of his forehead. Streaks of pink and green and blue litter the surface of his fringe, and it almost always matches befittingly with his risk-taking outfit-of-the-day- when it doesn't, it is an apt contrast that stands out among all the weird he exudes. Kim Kibum is porcelain all over, and he has long, shapely legs with just the right amount of muscle to die for. If his outfit is tight enough, it usually clings to the slight curves of his torso, revealing a desirable s-line that has the straight, gay and bisexual people salivating all over. An impish, delicate face framed by the artwork that is his hair possesses a sloping, sharp jaw line, high cheekbones and gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. And talking about them- finest masterpiece that Kibum probably possesses (in Jinki's opinion, not the rest of the world's) is his eyes. They are vulpine, slanted at an unbelievably all-rounder degree that has him switching from sultry boy to cutest kid in a matter of seconds with varying curves of his full, pink lips. To most people that Kibum meets, Kibum's intriguing eyes are like sunlight to the newly-seeing blind - unbearably bright, happy and completely oozing energy, just like the owner himself. They sparkle at the slightest things, like the obscure tag of an on-sale outlet fluttering in the streets, or the sudden click of inspiration inside of him, or even an unconscious stumble that belongs to Jinki. They are happy and bright and mischievous, and they hold great amount of energy. But all this beauty is only normal perfection at the surface; Jinki is one of the few people who have gained access to witness another side of Kibum's beauty; however dark and destructive, he finds it amazing to behold and impossible to love.
Jinki doesn't meet Kibum the way his art friends have, on the way to art class or in the room itself (because he is a physics and rocket science major), exchanging introductions with a sunny smile and curious mind to their new friend's talent. Jinki meets Kibum two weeks before winter break finishes, in an empty skateboarding ground that he was hurriedly passing through to get to the train station, just shy of a few hundred meters from his soon-to-be university.
What makes Jinki stop and stare behind the comfort of a large, hanging oak-tree is not the cheerful air of sunshine and daisies hanging around Kibum, but rather the sheer weight of shadows and pain interlocking their negative tendrils with the waves of surface-happiness. He sees the incredible amount of beauty the higher powers have gifted to him, of course, but also the darkness that burrows within. As Jinki watches, eyes wide and knuckle digging into his braces, Kibum is carving- not pieces of art out of clay or stone or anything inanimate, but rather the clean, soft ivory of his forearms. His paint seeps in deep red from beneath, and they drip in an unsettlingly unprofessional manner as Kibum works his penknife around, as if dead to the pain and deep in a trance. Jinki's knuckles are bleeding themselves by the time Kibum's checkered jeans are spotted with the first traces of crimson, and his fists shake in laughable contrast to the sure direction of Kibum's steady right hand. As Kibum mutilates his arm into an unrecognizable state of terrible horror and beauty, Jinki gives a little cry, wrenching his own flesh out of his mouth of metal and stumbling forward to knock the medium out of Kibum's sticky hands.
What had subsequently happened next was a blur of tears, rejection, shouting matches and confusion, maybe even a healthy dose of violence, but Jinki finds himself the other half of the broken, talented artist, five crazy months later. Jinki is usually orthodox and slightly insane to his logical peers, but even Minho's laid back and easy-going nature cannot handle the amount of insane Jinki suddenly declares undying love for and takes into his hands, all smiles and a bundle of joy.
"Artists are crazy, and your boy proves that succinctly," Minho had exploded, but Jinki had only smiled and clasped his hands a little tighter together, more than ready to share his treasure-trove of kept reasons (because he was too shy to share them with Kibum) on why off his rocker was a good and beautiful thing, just like the things Kibum could create out of nothing at all. Kibum was unique, he was special, and Jinki has always firmly believed so.
Crazy artist or not, Kibum has always come up with the most wondrous things Jinki has ever beheld.
Like their first kiss- now that was a memorable one. Jinki had been caught skulking the outskirts of the art college opposite's premises by the very angel himself, and the narrowed eyes directed at him sure didn't help ease the thrumming trepidation enclosed by the mere bars of his ribs. Jinki had been psyching himself up to finally ask the younger out for a date- coffee, perhaps, or a walk in the park-, but his well-practiced invitation had crumbled into non-existence the minute the angled eyes held his worrying gaze. How Kibum knew about his intentions, Jinki did not know, but he found himself scoring a date and nearly walking into a pole, dazed by the sheer mist of chocolate and cheek gathered at the peak of his lips. Kibum had kissed him out of spontaneous mischief and exasperation at the latter's stuttered speech- skipping right past the hand-holding, take-it-slow cliché that had stuck with Jinki ever since he was a kid.
Jinki had decided that day that he liked the wild and the unknown, and had spent the rest of the day wandering around with a pink flush and goofy smile that Kibum had successfully managed to paint on the canvas of his face in their little moment.
Another notable time when Kibum's metamorphic works are at their finest- the little things that they share. As time went by, the two of them had found themselves falling into a comfortable routine of sharing everything under the sun, anywhere and anytime. Kibum had been completely adverse to Jinki's initial probes, but had gradually eased up as Jinki's constant sincerity pulled through. The brunette's favorite times were when the both of them sat cross legged on Kibum's single bed, leaning slightly forward with their fingers loosely braided together as words about their past, present and future filtered out from between willing lips. Jinki has learnt about Kibum's chronic fear of heights (which finally explained why he absolutely refused to admire the view from Jinki's high-end balcony- the latter had always believed Kibum was being difficult), his love for music genres that ranged from dirty dance shots to cheesy, old-time ballads, his childhood dream of becoming a singer (which fizzled out because he didn't have enough funds to get anywhere after his mother kicked him out for coming out of the closet) and so much more. Jinki cannot say that he hates the darker secrets that Kibum divulges, because they paint a realer picture of the complicated boy and help the elder understand, but he can safely announce to the world his tendency to fall in love all over again when Kibum's kohl-free eyes scrunch up with passion as he talks about his drawings and projects and cats and the like- because Kibum not only paints pictures of his life for Jinki to observe, but also fills in the emptiness of Jinki's mundane, science-submerged student life with crazy, bright colors and new experiences. All these make Jinki a staunch believer of Kibum's talent.
While on the subject of talents, one cannot deny the absolute infinity of gifts Kibum possesses. Jinki's personal favorite (because he's the only one that has ever witnessed it in action) is the ebony boy's effortless ability to pick long, drawn-out moans from the back of Jinki's throat, to make him beg with noises he doesn't even know he's capable of making. Jinki doesn't understand how a skinny, pale, beautiful boy can reduce him to an arching, twisting incoherent mess by the slightest rub of bare ass against jeans, when it is supposed to be the younger himself that should be reduced to this mess by Jinki. Jinki has had his fair amount of experiences in various fellatio, but his confidence and resolve to make Kibum cry out with his delicious, lustful curses in perfect English whittles away when the younger hitches his legs around the his hip and uses surprising strength to throw him down onto his mattress, effectively turning the tables of dominance. Jinki doesn't really mind, though. When the two of them are unable to hold back and start tearing at each other's clothes, desperate for the friction of skin on skin, Jinki doesn't really care about the dominance factor, preferring to live in the moment and to take advantage of Kibum's slips to wrangle a few fettered keens from the writhing boy beneath him. Sex with Kibum is an art piece in the act itself; the morning rays often emphasized strategically placed purple hickeys and raised scratches on one another's skin, just visible from beneath the thick sheets should said-abused body part become exposed with a slight rolling over.
(Jinki hates getting post-math lessons and full reports after art class, though, because Kibum almost always never fails to point out the number of outstanding, blossoming hickeys and battle wounds marking up his skin, doubling over in laughter in his naked glory- because Jinki almost always has twice as much love written all over his skin, much to his chagrin and contradictory satisfaction. But that's just a paltry payment for the endless rounds in heaven he receives, even if he has to endure blow-by-blow accounts of Embarrassing Things Jinki Says And Does During Sex.)
Of course, Minho's words are to be duly remembered, because happy times are definitely not the only thing that stands prevalent in the duo's explosive, explorative relationship with the limit of the sky. Artists have different genres of works, and Kibum has a likewise alter-ego as opposed to the sun he keeps on the surface of his being, sometimes radiating out from within if something makes him truly happy- usually Jinki. (His friends at school are basically non-existent, because even the generally dubbed-weird art cohort wants nothing to do with the amount of weirdness Kibum possesses.)
When Kibum explodes, it is almost strangely quiet, like the ending of a star in the heart of a vacuum. Kibum doesn't yell or hit or hurl things when he really explodes (he does that when he's annoyed with Jinki, but the physics major loves him to bits anyway)- he hides himself away in the darkest of shadows and self-destructs in the form of flashing silver and red spurts. Jinki almost always never notices the warning signs until it is too late, and he has to fly like the wind, stumbling over every fucking living and non-living thing on his way to save the damned. When he finds Kibum after dropping everything, he finds it impossible not to pressure his knuckles against his lips until they bleed the same rusty red as Kibum does, wanting so bad to share whatever pain that rages inside of the broken boy. Be it past memories about his childhood abuse and constant oppression or new setbacks, Jinki never knows the real reason until Kibum stops twisting violently in his embrace and wakes up enough to stop cutting Jinki into little ribbons. Kibum always apologizes afterward, refusing to let the elder tend to his wounds until the latter's were fixed, the tear tracks still visible on his face. Jinki however doesn't see the need of all the apology from the younger boy for mutilating him like that though- after all, wasn't he always leaving the kid at the most important times of his life and only finding him after his flesh was reduced to shreds?
Jinki always goes back to life and normalcy the next day, and endures the countless aghast reactions of his peers and rage from Minho about the becoming of his battle scars. He never utters a peep, but the others always guess as much, and they attack him with an outraged slew of demands that he lock Kibum away and save himself. Hell, even the boy himself has asked of him to throw him into the loony-bin, but Jinki can never bring himself to do it. Jinki sees a slice of vulnerability that absolutely needs to be protected in the heart of all that rage, and despite the terrifying, terrible and doomsday pictures that Kibum comes up with with his blood, Jinki sees brilliant beauty in the devastated works. It's like a twisted fairytale in which the main characters die, but it's still beautiful because at the very least, the lovers get to be with each other for a while. Jinki likes to think he sees scraps of Kibum's past in visual works, and wants to take away all the black, scaly dragons and warty witches with the power of time and love that the boy so desperately needs. Jinki is a crazy, hopeless romantic, he knows, but the both extreme sides of Kibum are the only things he has, and he'd never let go of the bouts of explosion and Technicolor the latter's brought into his life.
Jinki wants to spend the rest of his boring, mundane life of science with a crazy artist that colors and fills in the blank parts of his canvas, whether colorful or black and distressful, to be honest, and he doesn't really care.
~
Kibum's arms are neatly bandaged up again as they board the plane, and Jinki laces their fingers together and pulls the skinny boy closer to his chest, his dreamy grin a shield from the warped looks the both of them are getting. Kibum slides into his seat in stony silence (because Jinki refused to let him carve their names on his arm in celebration), but allows the honors graduate to hold his waist. Jinki has been bouncing on the balls of his feet since they bid their goodbyes to their ratty old apartment in the morning, and it has switched effortlessly to the jiggling of anxious legs, as if the extra movement would take them up into the air sooner. Kibum is steeped in irritation by the time the second announcement for take-off sounds, and he digs an elbow into the stockier boy's ribs.
"Would you please fucking- mmph!" Kibum wrenches his face away from between Jinki's strong fingers and sidles away, crossing his arms and glaring fiercely at nothing in particular; his fiancé was impossible.
"Oh, you taste good."
"Fuck off and be still."
"You can't still be mad about the name thing, can you?"
Kibum just digs a half-hearted elbow into Jinki's crotch in response. Jinki's protest is lost in the roar of the plane that's shuddering to life, and suddenly they're off- high up in the clouds, flying far and wide and away from their beginning into- well, a new beginning.
"Are you gonna miss it?"
"Shut up Jinki."
~
"Will you paint weird stuff to remind you of the-"
"God forbid, and didn't I ask for you to shut up?"
~
Jinki loops an earnest arm around his distant lover and pulls him close. "I love anything you come up with, just not the ones on your arms. That sort of canvas is supposed to be marked up by hickeys and a shit-load of scratches anyway."
Never one for Jinki's cheese, Kibum abruptly ducks his head and twists a little bit, sucking at Jinki's earlobe for a heartbeat of a second before letting go. Without even looking, Jinki knows his shuddery breath has composed a symphony of satisfaction for Kibum, and that he's just been marked up by an emblem of possession.
Kibum is an artist with an excellent portfolio of works on his way to pursue his dreams, but in Jinki's opinion, a masterpiece of the younger's cannot be put down on paper and in ink, and is rather more explicitly expressed in his orthodox character, ups and downs and fellatio major between the sheets. It's of really the kind of art France is looking for, but his best pieces are what Jinki has always been looking for- splash of color, tears and bloodshed and all.
Happy birthday yeobo! /glomps with confectionery trick and hugs
I hope you aren't expecting this, because that would make it less of a disappointment OTL. Idk what's wrong with me lately, I can't come up with good stories and had to start your present from scratch three times. I know this fic fizzled out to next to nothing and it's lacking plenty of things, but please forgive me I was rushing omg ;_;
Anyway disaster!fic-notes aside, I hope that you're having a good birthday where you are, all smiles and amazing tossed into one Jasmine. We've only just met, probably with a friendship spanning the most 3 months, but you're a really good friend that I completely regret not being able to meet you outside of Lj. :/ nevertheless i hope that we will someday, and when we do you'll be doing so much better than now (not that now is terrible of course), happy and doing the things you've always wanted to! I think I can say that we've progressed from complete strangers to being good friends, right?(:
Oh well this is getting long-winded and stuff, so I'll just end the note here. Have a great day and amazing 2012, stay healthy and beautiful and continue writing mind-blowing fics honey! I shan't keep Jinki waiting with all that whipped cream /snigger
- your yeobo!
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