Be Bold With Brows, for miss_aztec57
Title: Be Bold With Brows
For: Miss_Aztec57
Word count: 4,951
Rating: PG
Summary: To Kris, King of Subtlety, the laws of physics are merely a suggestion. This isn't necessarily a good thing.
It starts off well enough.
They meet at Kris' own gallery for the first time, on the kind of slow Thursday afternoon when there isn't a crowd gathered in front of the artworks and the instrumental playing in the background is audible enough to do that thing where it makes Kris even more sleepy.
Kris is just barely aware of his surroundings as he walks past a self portrait with a satisfied smile and a cup of the elixir of life (more commonly known as coffee) in his hands. Taking a turn next, he leaves the area designated for his self portraits and moves onto the portraits of his friends and family. The current series of his artworks on display feature realistic portraits of people-more specifically, the part of their face that intrigues him the most: eyebrows.
There's an elderly couple in the far back of the room, a woman in formal attire up front, another on the side and a group of younger girls gathered around the centerpiece of the exhibition, standing next to someone Kris can't quite see.
From his view, at first, Kris can only see side of man's head, black pants, black vest on a lithe figure. He makes his way closer carefully towards the man, who stands there with narrowed eyes and nose wrinkled just the slightest bit as he examines the painting, a portrait of his younger brother whom Kris often refers to as the Devil Incarnate.
There's an obvious attraction right from the beginning-gentle curves and a scenic presence that draw the artist in Kris towards him immediately, and after seeing his face, it only takes a grand total of another 2.69 seconds for Kris to appropriate the man with the title of Adorable Guy.
The meeting itself, sadly, lasts only a bit longer.
It lasts a total of seven minutes if Kris were to be precise, two of which he spends working up the nerve to makes his presence known, formulating a plan full of grandeur and gentlemanliness to sweep the crowd off their feet, and the remaining he spends choking on his own spit, travelling through space and time, saving the world twice as he trips over absolutely nothing at all and falls straight into the arms of said Adorable Guy.
There's an audible groan that resonates within the minimally occupied room, followed by copious amounts of giggling from the group of girls standing by. Kris vaguely thinks he can hear the sound of his pride cracking with embarrassment as the warm liquid from his cup of coffee makes its way down the front of Adorable Guy's dress shirt and vest.
"I-wow. I. Yeah. I am so sorry," Kris coughs out, picking himself up and trying his best not to wince at the brown patch of coffee that glares at him. He also tries really hard to resist the urge to turn around and bolt right out of the gallery. "Really, really sorry."
Up close, the face is kind of really nice, too. Again, gentle and warm.
"It's, uh, well, it's fine." says the man, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing it at the soaked patch on his shirt. "Are you allowed to bring drinks inside the building?" Adorable Guy's eyes travel up and down Kris, narrowing at the colorful sneakers he's wearing. "Or be dressed like that?"
"Yes," Kris says with confidence, puffing his chest out to its full potential, hoping to gain some ground, any ground, at this point. He hopes his face doesn't look as red as the insides of his chest feels. Was the room always this hot? "My gallery, my rules."
"Oh, your gallery?" The tone of surprise is evident. "You must be Kris."
"That's me," Kris says. "And I am really sorry about your shirt?"
"I am Yixing by the way," the man answers, looking the least bit intimidated by Kris' size. Kris, on the other hand, feels himself deflate both physically and mentally at the name. "The name is Zhang Yixing."
"The art critic," he manages to choke out in the middle of a sudden panic attack. Adorable Guy is turning into Intimidating Guy at an alarming rate. Abort mission, abort mission. Just his luck. He literally could not have fallen for-on top of. On top of, is what he means to say-a more suitable person.
"Yes," Yixing agrees, sighing at his shirt. He turns to walk towards the gallery's exit. "The art critic."
"So, uh," he begins nervously. Yixing is already out of the building and walking towards his car. Yixing. Kris likes the name. The smell of spilled coffee is strong and almost nauseating. Usually, Kris finds great comfort in coffee, but right now it is mixed in a unusual combination with both adrenaline and dread. "Did you like my work?" he calls out.
His voice resembles his pride quite a bit-broken and painful to the senses. Kris' social skills are probably buried six feet deep, next to his parents' grave.
"Well, eyebrows are surely something," Yixing muses, turning around to face Kris, trailing off as he tilts his head to the side. He stands out now, with the coffee stain, bold, like a brand, against the white cars parked outside. "Fascinating work."
"You're an idiot," is the first thing Jongdae says when Kris recounts his encounter with Zhang Yixing. "He's an art critic and you completely ruined what was probably a ten grand piece of clothing and he's going to write a horrible article on your work and you'll lose half your sponsors and go bankrupt and then I will go bankrupt."
Jongdae continues to glare at Kris.
It's a pretty impressive glare.
Jongdae is Kris' manager-of-sorts. His job is to keep Kris alive. He is also a part-time secretary, part-time publicity manager, full-time friend and guidance counselor and also second in the running for the position of Devil Incarnate. Kris is unhealthily dependent on him for absolutely everything.
"What did I do to deserve this? You're an idiot," he says. "We're all fucked because you're an idiot."
"Don't say that out loud," Kris snaps, glaring back at Jongdae with wide eyes. Making mistakes by mistake is one thing, Jongdae doesn't have to set the building on fire on purpose. "He might hear you."
"From what I have gathered," begins another voice, a voice Kris is all too familiar with, before Jongdae can make a snarky comeback about how Kris is not the reality he gave up his social life for. "I am pretty sure he already knows you're a lot case, hyung."
The list of people that are included in Kris' circle of family and friends isn't very long. In fact, it only has about five people and each person is increasingly more headache-inducing than the next with the only exception being Jongdae's distant cousin, Kim Minseok, who is an angel compared to the rest.
First on this list, of course, is Kris' younger brother, his full-time minion and part-time Devil Incarnate, Sehun.
"Sehun's right on this one though," quips in Jongdae unhelpfully.
"I am always right," Sehun adds, like it's a universal law. "I am also the reason you're famous. You should listen to me more often."
Kris sighs.
Sehun is eight years younger that Kris, bolder with his multicolored-dyed hair and indeed behind Kris' early breakthrough as an artist. The story is unusual from the beginning till the end and doesn't make any sense for the most part: Kris' first painting, unsurprisingly, had been disastrous.
But it had been disastrous and, quite frankly, amazing.
He'd been out by the park, letting his canvas dry under the sun as he consumed an extra large serving of burger and fries. Sehun had popped in then, screaming in his ear without any previous warning which led to Kris seeing his life flash right before his eyes and accidentally sneezing out a mixture of ketchup and fries onto his canvas. The fact that an unsuspecting man with a questionable amount of money was walking by was pure luck. He'd asked if the painting was for sale and Kris was too busy choking on his food to answer the man seriously. Sehun, on the other hand, known for being able to deliver when needed was exceptionally calm.
"We'll accept fifteen, no less," he'd said in a voice that Kris could hear clearly through his own choked hiccups. Back then, he was mere seconds away from choking Sehun for trading his painting for fifteen bucks when the man whom Kris now knows as Kim Joonmyun had laughed nervously and signed him a $15,000 cheque.
"Go do your homework, or something," Kris says, waving Sehun off.
Sehun completely ignores him and plops down next to Jongdae on the couch.
Joonmyun had not only, in the span of less than an hour, paid all their bills for the rest of the year but also gotten Kris onto the third page of a local newspaper, giving Kris a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make it big. A couple more sneezes and Kris was soon on the front page. Things were drastically easier after that. It was four parts Kris' talent and one part luck, Kris claims.
(Sehun disagrees and calls himself Kris' lucky charm instead. Kris can never deny it.)
"Did you really trip over air and fall into the guys' arms?" Sehun asks and Kris resists the urge to sigh very, very loudly. Sehun speaks to Kris as if he's the younger one between them, even if Kris is not only older but also his only living guardian.
He also pays the bills.
"I pay your bills."
"Yeah, he did," answers Jongdae instead.
"It was out of my control," Kris argues, grumbling as he runs a hand through his golden hair. How do these people dare mock him? "One minute I was walking with style and the next, some greater force had me parallel to the floor."
"Greater force," Jongdae reiterates with a raised brow.
Kris take a moment, just a tiny moment, to appreciate the creases on his forehead and the slant of his brows, silently complimenting Jongdae on a strong eyebrow game. Sehun completely ruins the moment of artistic enlightenment by saying-
"Brought together by a greater force?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. "Don't you mean gravity, hyung?"
With the help of some twisted form of luck, Kris ends up running into Zhang Yixing again a week later.
It's at an event organized by Lu Han and Kris never quite understood the deal: Lu Han wrinkles his nose at all and any form of art, but still organizes these amazing galas. But, then again, Minseok really likes photography and Lu Han really likes Minseok, so Kris deems this to be reason enough why he finds himself falling a second time in less than ten days.
"We meet again," is how Yixing greets Kris, this time in a full suit and a newly replaced white shirt.
Kris, in return, greets him back by visibly jerking backwards with surprise and falling down straight on his backside with a loud thump that has half the occupants in the room turning their heads.
He manages a choked, "Hi," and follows it with a series of passionate gurgling sounds as Lu Han snickers in the background. Tiny people, like Lu Han, are kind of scary. Tiny people, like Yixing, who eye Kris with perplexed eyes but are extremely attractive, are absolutely terrifying.
"What are you doing down there?" asks Lu Han, slipping in next to Yixing.
"Checking the... gravity." Goddamn it, Sehun.
"Right," Lu Han agrees with a sarcastic, serious nod.
Kris wonders just how much candy he would have to bribe Sehun with in order to have Lu Han gone. But with Lu Han gone, they'd have to also deal with an angry Minseok who is, like, a Hulk in the body of Peter Pan. Kris shakes his head at the thought and runs his eyes through the crowd, looking for Minseok. Minseok smiles at him innocently from across the hall for the briefest of moments and Kris heaves a sigh of relief. That was close.
"That was close," Yixing says calmly, once Kris has finished his internal monologue and Lu Han has completely disappeared amidst the crowd. "You almost hit my face when you fell down."
"I am sorry about that," Kris says with a cough, casually picking himself off the floor and acting like the last bit of his pride didn't just take a final hit to the gut. His acting is beyond impressive. At this rate, he'll probably win an Oscar before Leonardo DiCaprio.
"It's nice seeing you like this," Yixing continues, looking at him critically. "No more colorful sneakers?"
"Right, about that," Kris begins shakily, brushing invisible dust off his pants. "I probably haven't leave a great first impression."
"Ah, it's okay," Yixing breathes out, looking Kris in the eye. Crescent eyes, Kris notes with a huff. This feels a lot like an anime. "Your face frowns a lot," he notes. "It's very amusing."
This entire experience so far deserves to be labeled nothing short of painful, Kris decides, sighing internally. This trying-to-be-suave-and-impressive thing isn't working out at all. Kris feels extremely powerless in his current position. Just because his last name is Wu, doesn't mean he actually knows how to woo someone.
"Well, so, bad first impression and I am sure you've already sent a really terrible report to your editor-"
"Not really."
"But I think you're kind of nice to look at and-"
"Wait-"
"And I really want to make it up to you. There's this event-"
Yixing places a hand on his shoulders then and Kris feels everything slow down. "Slow down," says Yixing.
"There's this event in two weeks," Kris says, taking a deep breath, gathering the last bits of his dignity back into his arms and holding it up in front of Yixing as a peace offering. "Press release of a new piece."
Yixing eyes at him with a look of interest.
"I was going to have a formal invitation sent, to make up for last time," Kris tries his best to explain without wheezing. Or stuttering. "But then, you're here. I figured I'd, well, tell you in person."
"Formal invitation. For me." Yixing looks at him with a raised brow. The curve of his eyebrow is beyond impressive. Kris feels a part of his soul shrivel up and die at the thought. He had no plans of ever meeting Yixing again, but it sounds like a fantastic idea now. Instead of running away, he could just get the guy to like his work instead. Yeah. "You're inviting an art critic. What's the catch?"
"No catch. I, uh, just want to make up for running into you last time." So that I can impress you. "It'll be great and-"
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay," Yixing says with a laugh. The feeling of relief that runs down Kris' spine is overpowering. Kris watches with amazement as Yixing tries to wave him away. "Go now. You're blocking my view."
"I am the view," Kris grumbles, regaining some of his confidence back.
"Sense of humor," Yixing says with a smile. That's a first. "Impressive."
"You haven't seen anything yet." Yixing doesn't look like he wants to kill Kris with his bare hands, so Kris gives himself a pat in the back and mentally cackles at Jongdae and Sehun for ever doubting his abilities. He casually stands next to Yixing from then on, exchanging small words and making sure not to embarrass himself any further.
Kris sees a genuine smile playing along the sidelines of Yixing's lips that night.
Maybe eyebrows aren't the only feature he finds captivating.
"So, what did you think?" Nearly a fortnight of exchanging short text messages has helped ease Kris into regaining his bearings back. The duration in between has let Kris prepare himself mentally not to screw things up beyond belief.
"I enjoyed this a lot more than last one," Yixing says, smiling. Kris does not stare. He looks the other way, at Jongdae who is jumping up and down, trying to reach something on the top shelf in the supplies cupboard. "There's no coffee involved this time."
"A pity."
Yixing's in a pair of washed jeans and a button up today, outfit significantly less formal than his usual attire. It suits him better, Kris thinks. He blends in well with the star of the show tonight, an artwork made solely out of colored tissue paper on canvas. More casual, more truthful.
"A blessing," Yixing argues. "Too much caffeine isn't actually good for your health and coffee stains are a pain in the ass."
"Hmm," Kris says with a serious look. The reporters have long since left the venue, the lights are dimmed and his voice bounces off the walls as he speaks, resonating, dragging the words out. "Why don't you tell me more about how I am slowly killing myself over a meal?"
Yixing doesn't positively say yes but he doesn't say no either, so Kris leads them out of the building after making sure Jongdae's got everything covered. They walk down the sidewalk, walk for quite a while, because Kris takes a wrong turn once and refuses to acknowledge his mistake until there are two bowls of streaming, hot ramen in front of them.
It's a really late dinner. A really, really late dinner.
"Early breakfast?" Kris asks.
"Midnight snack."
"But I like breakfast better," Kris says with a pout, waiting for his food to cool down. Yixing, on the other hand, has no qualms about slurping the noodles that are probably as hot as the weather in Philippines.
"Don't be ridiculous," Yixing says after a moment of silence. "It's one in the morning. Definitely a midnight snack."
"But midnight snacks are unhealthy." It's one in the morning and the streets are empty and there's barely any traffic outside and Kris hasn't done this in a long time. He hasn't done anything like this ever.
"Says the person who considers caffeine induced drinks as elixirs of life."
"Breakfast," he says insistently. This is a dumb argument and Kris is going to fight with all his might to win it.
After his parents passed away, Kris had to spend all his free time providing for Sehun and keeping them both alive. Then, after Joonmyun, when Kris didn't have to worry about somehow paying for Sehun's tuition anymore, he spent all his time improving his rusty skills, becoming someone others would accept and acknowledge.
"Okay, we can have breakfast, too," Yixing says, however, looking at his watch. "Which should be in about seven hours."
Kris blinks, taken aback. Did Yixing just- "Breakfast? At eight?"
"Why not?"
"Sounds horrible," Kris says. It sounds amazing, except Kris can't rise early to save his life. "I probably won't even be up until ten."
"I'll give you a wakeup call?"
Maybe he's just suddenly lucky, Kris thinks, taking his phone out and handing it over for Yixing to key in his number. Or maybe, Yixing is the Actual Angel instead of Minseok. And maybe he's just reading it all wrong, but it's been years since Kris has dared to make advances on anyone and it's been even longer since he's gotten a positive reaction.
Sitting outside a convenience store, in the middle of the night and having a conversation like this.
This is new.
"Hyung, wake up."
Kris grumbles and rolls around, turning away from the voice that dares to disrupt his sleep. He spent half the night out of the house, eating unhealthy food and speaking an unhealthy amount of words. Then he spent another hour in the bathroom, trying to wash the grin off his face and a good chuck of time after that rolling in his bed. It's too early in the morning to have thoughts.
"Hyung, it's almost ten," Sehun tries insistently. "The house is on fire."
"Leave," Kris commands, grumbling some more. "Call Jongdae if you need."
"Hyung," Sehun says nevertheless, showing no signs of moving. Kris registers a hint of annoyance in his tone, can see him narrowing his eyes through closed lids. "The art critic is sitting in our living room."
WHAT. "WHAT?"
"Good morning."
Kris can feel his heart pounding in his chest the same monstrous way Sehun's smug grin is burning at the back of brain. Younger brothers are horrible. Younger brothers who know you well are the worst. "That was a horrible joke, you brat."
"I am serious," Sehun says, unrelenting. "He's sitting on our couch and looking at the paintings."
"No way."
"Yes way."
Sehun's face almost greets the back of the door as Kris' haste to shove him out of his room. Being unprepared is definitely not a nice feeling, Kris reflects, as he brushes his teeth furiously. It's a feeling that makes you want to curl up and not face what's behind you door, he decides, trying his best to pick a pair of jeans out with minimal force.
It takes a lot of effort.
It takes even more effort to resist the urge to hide in his closet instead.
"I thought you were going to call me," Kris says fifteen minutes later, stepping out of his room with the calmness of a monk, walking elegantly like a swan and ignoring the way Sehun is silently cackling to himself in the background like a hyena.
"I did call you," Yixing explains, a pleased smile on his face. "Thrice."
Kris feels his eyebrows raise dramatically at that. Checking his phone, he finds no notifications of a missed call. Sehun probably understands his confusion though, because he plucks himself off the wall and walks towards them. (Kris gives him no credit for any form of sibling telepathy-it's all because of Kris' eyebrows. They are known to be expressive, to say a thousand words. Four for Kris.)
"You slept through the first two calls," Sehun explains. "So I picked up the third and invited him over."
"What if he was a murderer?" Kris finds himself asking, sibling instinct kicking in, unable to stop the worry from making itself known.
"Why would you have a smiley face after a murderer's name in your phonebook?" Sehun asks back.
"I-" Kris doesn't quite know how to answer that.
To his relief, however, Yixing doesn't react to the newfound information either. Instead, he picks himself off the couch and begins to talk about a new place downtown that apparently has the most amazing breakfast buffet offers.
"So, you're a single parent?" Yixing asks, once they are both seated in the restaurant, freshly made pancakes between them. Chocolate syrup on Yixing's pancakes, maple for Kris.
"Brother," Kris corrects him. Someone's playing a piano somewhere in the restaurant. Kris can still hear Yixing's surprised gasp over the instrumental. He doesn't think too much of it. "He's my younger brother."
"Parents?" Yixing asks carefully, voice unsure, like he can't decide if he's crossing a line he isn't meant to.
"Our parents met an accident when we were really young," he explains. All of his friends know how it all went down. Kris and Sehun were both far too young to be emotional over it. "We're still debating on which one of us was adopted."
"So you're his only guardian?"
"Yeah."
They were young and barely surviving.
Sehun had mentioned once, curled up next to Kris in their small, make-shift bed, that his dream was to have enough money that he could swim in it one day. It was a childish request but having managed to fulfill it helps Kris sleep better at night.
"He must look up to you then," Yixing says, cutting up his pancake into smaller bits. "He's cute kid."
"You can have him if you want," Kris says seriously, feeling significantly lighter. "I don't like him anyway."
"What else do you not like?"
"Jongdae, my friend, you already know Lu Han, oil painting because that stuff's a complete pain in the ass," he rattles off. This is easy. Kris holds a lot of unnecessary grudges, second-doubts almost everything and denies emotional attachment with anything or any person that isn't Sehun. "Decaffeinated coffee. Oh, pineapples on pizza-sweet pizza? No, thank you."
"Is there anything you actually like?"
The words you are on the tip of his tongue. Yixing's laugh is loud and addicting, presence comforting. I like you.
"You know what I don't like?" Yixing continues instead, with a cheeky smile.
"What could you possibly not like?"
"Eyebrows."
Kris feels his throat dry up in an instant, Yixing's laughter only gets louder.
It's fascinating how you can go from feeling completely relaxed to feeling extremely conscious within seconds.
It's irrational, a part of his brain says, but it also doesn't sound like a lie. Every joke has a bit of truth in them, right? What if. What if Kris' been actually reading it all wrong? Maybe Yixing is just being nice and trying to get to know him better, so that he could write a better review? Maybe this is him indirectly turning Kris down. What if-
Kris, suddenly uneasy, somehow manages to mirror Yixing's laughter and laugh the statement off.
He's left trying to catch his breath for the rest of his meal.
Kris figures he can keep up the charade as long as Yixing goes along with their poorly-timed meals and equally-as-uncoordinated banter because he is bad with words but even worse when it comes to feelings or forming long lasting relationships.
It becomes a routine-usually Kris calls Yixing after breakfast to make plans for lunch. On the days that he doesn't, Yixing calls him instead and they end up seeing each other at least six out of the seven days in a week. It's an easy routine to slip into since neither of them have concrete work hours, and Kris makes sure to never touch the topic of liking Yixing ever again.
This lasts just a bit over two months.
They're at the same restaurant again, the one where they had their first breakfast together when Yixing brings it up.
"I just realized today that I've see you every single day this past month," he says casually, eyes on his food as he speaks. I see you too, Kris wants to say, every day when we meet up, and even after that because I can't stop hearing your voice when I work, when I paint, when I go to sleep.
"You make it sound like I force you to eat with me," he says instead, picking up his glass of orange juice. "You enjoy this, don't you?"
"We have lunch together almost every day," Yixing says, nodding with eyes narrowed. "Yet, you still haven't grown the balls to ask me out properly."
Kris, being Kris, promptly chokes on his orange juice.
Half the drink goes up his nose and the other half spurts out of his mouth and onto the table, their food and Yixing's shirt. The synergy between them had gotten significantly better over the past weeks. Kris watches it all go down the drain mournfully.
"Well," says Yixing, looking down at his shirt with regret.
"I am so, so sorry," Kris apologizes profusely. The shirt's white. Light yellow now? And partially see-through now. Kris most certainly does not stare. He focuses on breathing through his nose instead. "I just didn't- I mean-"
"I might have assumed things incorrectly then?" Yixing says, phrasing his sentence into a question.
"No, no," Kris disagrees with haste.
"No?"
"God, no," Kris says. "But you said you didn't like eyebrows and I thought you indirectly said that you didn't like-"
"I said it as a joke," Yixing says, exasperated. "To get back to you for the coffee incident."
"Wait-"
Yixing is still talking to him. Why is Yixing still talking to him? Yixing should be walking out of the door right now, because he dislikes almost everything that makes up Kris' soulful artistic spirit and all Kris does is embarrass him in public over and over again.
Yixing doesn't seem to mind at all, saying, "So I'll just ask you to exclusively got out with me instead."
"Because you like me."
"That's a likely implication."
"You like me," Kris whispers to himself, disbelief extremely clear to his own ears. "You actually love my art and now you like me, too."
"Oh, whoa, slow down," Yixing says with a laugh that bubbles forth. He seems to have long since forgotten his wet shirt. Kris pretends not to notice it either, focusing more on the smile that is directed at him. "Don't push your luck."
"But-"
"Nope," says Yixing. "Don't think I don't remember that one collection of yours with lots of animals."
"Animals?"
"The one where you used God knows how many circles."
"Those weren't circles," Kris corrects him harshly, wounded, brining his hands up to his chest dramatically. He can't stop smiling. "They were egg shapes. A bitch to draw, if you ask me."
"I spent weeks laughing at that one," Yixing snickers nevertheless. "What did you call that collection? Ogle At The Oval's, right?"
"You wound me," Kris says. He tries his level best to contain the grin threatening to slip past and fails. Everything smells like orange juice and he has no idea when no one is doing anything about it. He really couldn't care less.
"Oh, shut up," says Yixing, plucking Kris' hand off his chest, eyes shining. He doesn't let go.
It started off well enough and, suddenly, Kris is beginning to think that the ending is going to be pretty damn amazing too.
Dear Miss_Aztec57, I hope you enjoyed reading this! I also hope that you forgive me for all the liberties I took with your prompt, your bias, and for the haphazard mess this was. ♡
For: Miss_Aztec57
Word count: 4,951
Rating: PG
Summary: To Kris, King of Subtlety, the laws of physics are merely a suggestion. This isn't necessarily a good thing.
It starts off well enough.
They meet at Kris' own gallery for the first time, on the kind of slow Thursday afternoon when there isn't a crowd gathered in front of the artworks and the instrumental playing in the background is audible enough to do that thing where it makes Kris even more sleepy.
Kris is just barely aware of his surroundings as he walks past a self portrait with a satisfied smile and a cup of the elixir of life (more commonly known as coffee) in his hands. Taking a turn next, he leaves the area designated for his self portraits and moves onto the portraits of his friends and family. The current series of his artworks on display feature realistic portraits of people-more specifically, the part of their face that intrigues him the most: eyebrows.
There's an elderly couple in the far back of the room, a woman in formal attire up front, another on the side and a group of younger girls gathered around the centerpiece of the exhibition, standing next to someone Kris can't quite see.
From his view, at first, Kris can only see side of man's head, black pants, black vest on a lithe figure. He makes his way closer carefully towards the man, who stands there with narrowed eyes and nose wrinkled just the slightest bit as he examines the painting, a portrait of his younger brother whom Kris often refers to as the Devil Incarnate.
There's an obvious attraction right from the beginning-gentle curves and a scenic presence that draw the artist in Kris towards him immediately, and after seeing his face, it only takes a grand total of another 2.69 seconds for Kris to appropriate the man with the title of Adorable Guy.
The meeting itself, sadly, lasts only a bit longer.
It lasts a total of seven minutes if Kris were to be precise, two of which he spends working up the nerve to makes his presence known, formulating a plan full of grandeur and gentlemanliness to sweep the crowd off their feet, and the remaining he spends choking on his own spit, travelling through space and time, saving the world twice as he trips over absolutely nothing at all and falls straight into the arms of said Adorable Guy.
There's an audible groan that resonates within the minimally occupied room, followed by copious amounts of giggling from the group of girls standing by. Kris vaguely thinks he can hear the sound of his pride cracking with embarrassment as the warm liquid from his cup of coffee makes its way down the front of Adorable Guy's dress shirt and vest.
"I-wow. I. Yeah. I am so sorry," Kris coughs out, picking himself up and trying his best not to wince at the brown patch of coffee that glares at him. He also tries really hard to resist the urge to turn around and bolt right out of the gallery. "Really, really sorry."
Up close, the face is kind of really nice, too. Again, gentle and warm.
"It's, uh, well, it's fine." says the man, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing it at the soaked patch on his shirt. "Are you allowed to bring drinks inside the building?" Adorable Guy's eyes travel up and down Kris, narrowing at the colorful sneakers he's wearing. "Or be dressed like that?"
"Yes," Kris says with confidence, puffing his chest out to its full potential, hoping to gain some ground, any ground, at this point. He hopes his face doesn't look as red as the insides of his chest feels. Was the room always this hot? "My gallery, my rules."
"Oh, your gallery?" The tone of surprise is evident. "You must be Kris."
"That's me," Kris says. "And I am really sorry about your shirt?"
"I am Yixing by the way," the man answers, looking the least bit intimidated by Kris' size. Kris, on the other hand, feels himself deflate both physically and mentally at the name. "The name is Zhang Yixing."
"The art critic," he manages to choke out in the middle of a sudden panic attack. Adorable Guy is turning into Intimidating Guy at an alarming rate. Abort mission, abort mission. Just his luck. He literally could not have fallen for-on top of. On top of, is what he means to say-a more suitable person.
"Yes," Yixing agrees, sighing at his shirt. He turns to walk towards the gallery's exit. "The art critic."
"So, uh," he begins nervously. Yixing is already out of the building and walking towards his car. Yixing. Kris likes the name. The smell of spilled coffee is strong and almost nauseating. Usually, Kris finds great comfort in coffee, but right now it is mixed in a unusual combination with both adrenaline and dread. "Did you like my work?" he calls out.
His voice resembles his pride quite a bit-broken and painful to the senses. Kris' social skills are probably buried six feet deep, next to his parents' grave.
"Well, eyebrows are surely something," Yixing muses, turning around to face Kris, trailing off as he tilts his head to the side. He stands out now, with the coffee stain, bold, like a brand, against the white cars parked outside. "Fascinating work."
"You're an idiot," is the first thing Jongdae says when Kris recounts his encounter with Zhang Yixing. "He's an art critic and you completely ruined what was probably a ten grand piece of clothing and he's going to write a horrible article on your work and you'll lose half your sponsors and go bankrupt and then I will go bankrupt."
Jongdae continues to glare at Kris.
It's a pretty impressive glare.
Jongdae is Kris' manager-of-sorts. His job is to keep Kris alive. He is also a part-time secretary, part-time publicity manager, full-time friend and guidance counselor and also second in the running for the position of Devil Incarnate. Kris is unhealthily dependent on him for absolutely everything.
"What did I do to deserve this? You're an idiot," he says. "We're all fucked because you're an idiot."
"Don't say that out loud," Kris snaps, glaring back at Jongdae with wide eyes. Making mistakes by mistake is one thing, Jongdae doesn't have to set the building on fire on purpose. "He might hear you."
"From what I have gathered," begins another voice, a voice Kris is all too familiar with, before Jongdae can make a snarky comeback about how Kris is not the reality he gave up his social life for. "I am pretty sure he already knows you're a lot case, hyung."
The list of people that are included in Kris' circle of family and friends isn't very long. In fact, it only has about five people and each person is increasingly more headache-inducing than the next with the only exception being Jongdae's distant cousin, Kim Minseok, who is an angel compared to the rest.
First on this list, of course, is Kris' younger brother, his full-time minion and part-time Devil Incarnate, Sehun.
"Sehun's right on this one though," quips in Jongdae unhelpfully.
"I am always right," Sehun adds, like it's a universal law. "I am also the reason you're famous. You should listen to me more often."
Kris sighs.
Sehun is eight years younger that Kris, bolder with his multicolored-dyed hair and indeed behind Kris' early breakthrough as an artist. The story is unusual from the beginning till the end and doesn't make any sense for the most part: Kris' first painting, unsurprisingly, had been disastrous.
But it had been disastrous and, quite frankly, amazing.
He'd been out by the park, letting his canvas dry under the sun as he consumed an extra large serving of burger and fries. Sehun had popped in then, screaming in his ear without any previous warning which led to Kris seeing his life flash right before his eyes and accidentally sneezing out a mixture of ketchup and fries onto his canvas. The fact that an unsuspecting man with a questionable amount of money was walking by was pure luck. He'd asked if the painting was for sale and Kris was too busy choking on his food to answer the man seriously. Sehun, on the other hand, known for being able to deliver when needed was exceptionally calm.
"We'll accept fifteen, no less," he'd said in a voice that Kris could hear clearly through his own choked hiccups. Back then, he was mere seconds away from choking Sehun for trading his painting for fifteen bucks when the man whom Kris now knows as Kim Joonmyun had laughed nervously and signed him a $15,000 cheque.
"Go do your homework, or something," Kris says, waving Sehun off.
Sehun completely ignores him and plops down next to Jongdae on the couch.
Joonmyun had not only, in the span of less than an hour, paid all their bills for the rest of the year but also gotten Kris onto the third page of a local newspaper, giving Kris a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make it big. A couple more sneezes and Kris was soon on the front page. Things were drastically easier after that. It was four parts Kris' talent and one part luck, Kris claims.
(Sehun disagrees and calls himself Kris' lucky charm instead. Kris can never deny it.)
"Did you really trip over air and fall into the guys' arms?" Sehun asks and Kris resists the urge to sigh very, very loudly. Sehun speaks to Kris as if he's the younger one between them, even if Kris is not only older but also his only living guardian.
He also pays the bills.
"I pay your bills."
"Yeah, he did," answers Jongdae instead.
"It was out of my control," Kris argues, grumbling as he runs a hand through his golden hair. How do these people dare mock him? "One minute I was walking with style and the next, some greater force had me parallel to the floor."
"Greater force," Jongdae reiterates with a raised brow.
Kris take a moment, just a tiny moment, to appreciate the creases on his forehead and the slant of his brows, silently complimenting Jongdae on a strong eyebrow game. Sehun completely ruins the moment of artistic enlightenment by saying-
"Brought together by a greater force?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. "Don't you mean gravity, hyung?"
With the help of some twisted form of luck, Kris ends up running into Zhang Yixing again a week later.
It's at an event organized by Lu Han and Kris never quite understood the deal: Lu Han wrinkles his nose at all and any form of art, but still organizes these amazing galas. But, then again, Minseok really likes photography and Lu Han really likes Minseok, so Kris deems this to be reason enough why he finds himself falling a second time in less than ten days.
"We meet again," is how Yixing greets Kris, this time in a full suit and a newly replaced white shirt.
Kris, in return, greets him back by visibly jerking backwards with surprise and falling down straight on his backside with a loud thump that has half the occupants in the room turning their heads.
He manages a choked, "Hi," and follows it with a series of passionate gurgling sounds as Lu Han snickers in the background. Tiny people, like Lu Han, are kind of scary. Tiny people, like Yixing, who eye Kris with perplexed eyes but are extremely attractive, are absolutely terrifying.
"What are you doing down there?" asks Lu Han, slipping in next to Yixing.
"Checking the... gravity." Goddamn it, Sehun.
"Right," Lu Han agrees with a sarcastic, serious nod.
Kris wonders just how much candy he would have to bribe Sehun with in order to have Lu Han gone. But with Lu Han gone, they'd have to also deal with an angry Minseok who is, like, a Hulk in the body of Peter Pan. Kris shakes his head at the thought and runs his eyes through the crowd, looking for Minseok. Minseok smiles at him innocently from across the hall for the briefest of moments and Kris heaves a sigh of relief. That was close.
"That was close," Yixing says calmly, once Kris has finished his internal monologue and Lu Han has completely disappeared amidst the crowd. "You almost hit my face when you fell down."
"I am sorry about that," Kris says with a cough, casually picking himself off the floor and acting like the last bit of his pride didn't just take a final hit to the gut. His acting is beyond impressive. At this rate, he'll probably win an Oscar before Leonardo DiCaprio.
"It's nice seeing you like this," Yixing continues, looking at him critically. "No more colorful sneakers?"
"Right, about that," Kris begins shakily, brushing invisible dust off his pants. "I probably haven't leave a great first impression."
"Ah, it's okay," Yixing breathes out, looking Kris in the eye. Crescent eyes, Kris notes with a huff. This feels a lot like an anime. "Your face frowns a lot," he notes. "It's very amusing."
This entire experience so far deserves to be labeled nothing short of painful, Kris decides, sighing internally. This trying-to-be-suave-and-impressive thing isn't working out at all. Kris feels extremely powerless in his current position. Just because his last name is Wu, doesn't mean he actually knows how to woo someone.
"Well, so, bad first impression and I am sure you've already sent a really terrible report to your editor-"
"Not really."
"But I think you're kind of nice to look at and-"
"Wait-"
"And I really want to make it up to you. There's this event-"
Yixing places a hand on his shoulders then and Kris feels everything slow down. "Slow down," says Yixing.
"There's this event in two weeks," Kris says, taking a deep breath, gathering the last bits of his dignity back into his arms and holding it up in front of Yixing as a peace offering. "Press release of a new piece."
Yixing eyes at him with a look of interest.
"I was going to have a formal invitation sent, to make up for last time," Kris tries his best to explain without wheezing. Or stuttering. "But then, you're here. I figured I'd, well, tell you in person."
"Formal invitation. For me." Yixing looks at him with a raised brow. The curve of his eyebrow is beyond impressive. Kris feels a part of his soul shrivel up and die at the thought. He had no plans of ever meeting Yixing again, but it sounds like a fantastic idea now. Instead of running away, he could just get the guy to like his work instead. Yeah. "You're inviting an art critic. What's the catch?"
"No catch. I, uh, just want to make up for running into you last time." So that I can impress you. "It'll be great and-"
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay," Yixing says with a laugh. The feeling of relief that runs down Kris' spine is overpowering. Kris watches with amazement as Yixing tries to wave him away. "Go now. You're blocking my view."
"I am the view," Kris grumbles, regaining some of his confidence back.
"Sense of humor," Yixing says with a smile. That's a first. "Impressive."
"You haven't seen anything yet." Yixing doesn't look like he wants to kill Kris with his bare hands, so Kris gives himself a pat in the back and mentally cackles at Jongdae and Sehun for ever doubting his abilities. He casually stands next to Yixing from then on, exchanging small words and making sure not to embarrass himself any further.
Kris sees a genuine smile playing along the sidelines of Yixing's lips that night.
Maybe eyebrows aren't the only feature he finds captivating.
"So, what did you think?" Nearly a fortnight of exchanging short text messages has helped ease Kris into regaining his bearings back. The duration in between has let Kris prepare himself mentally not to screw things up beyond belief.
"I enjoyed this a lot more than last one," Yixing says, smiling. Kris does not stare. He looks the other way, at Jongdae who is jumping up and down, trying to reach something on the top shelf in the supplies cupboard. "There's no coffee involved this time."
"A pity."
Yixing's in a pair of washed jeans and a button up today, outfit significantly less formal than his usual attire. It suits him better, Kris thinks. He blends in well with the star of the show tonight, an artwork made solely out of colored tissue paper on canvas. More casual, more truthful.
"A blessing," Yixing argues. "Too much caffeine isn't actually good for your health and coffee stains are a pain in the ass."
"Hmm," Kris says with a serious look. The reporters have long since left the venue, the lights are dimmed and his voice bounces off the walls as he speaks, resonating, dragging the words out. "Why don't you tell me more about how I am slowly killing myself over a meal?"
Yixing doesn't positively say yes but he doesn't say no either, so Kris leads them out of the building after making sure Jongdae's got everything covered. They walk down the sidewalk, walk for quite a while, because Kris takes a wrong turn once and refuses to acknowledge his mistake until there are two bowls of streaming, hot ramen in front of them.
It's a really late dinner. A really, really late dinner.
"Early breakfast?" Kris asks.
"Midnight snack."
"But I like breakfast better," Kris says with a pout, waiting for his food to cool down. Yixing, on the other hand, has no qualms about slurping the noodles that are probably as hot as the weather in Philippines.
"Don't be ridiculous," Yixing says after a moment of silence. "It's one in the morning. Definitely a midnight snack."
"But midnight snacks are unhealthy." It's one in the morning and the streets are empty and there's barely any traffic outside and Kris hasn't done this in a long time. He hasn't done anything like this ever.
"Says the person who considers caffeine induced drinks as elixirs of life."
"Breakfast," he says insistently. This is a dumb argument and Kris is going to fight with all his might to win it.
After his parents passed away, Kris had to spend all his free time providing for Sehun and keeping them both alive. Then, after Joonmyun, when Kris didn't have to worry about somehow paying for Sehun's tuition anymore, he spent all his time improving his rusty skills, becoming someone others would accept and acknowledge.
"Okay, we can have breakfast, too," Yixing says, however, looking at his watch. "Which should be in about seven hours."
Kris blinks, taken aback. Did Yixing just- "Breakfast? At eight?"
"Why not?"
"Sounds horrible," Kris says. It sounds amazing, except Kris can't rise early to save his life. "I probably won't even be up until ten."
"I'll give you a wakeup call?"
Maybe he's just suddenly lucky, Kris thinks, taking his phone out and handing it over for Yixing to key in his number. Or maybe, Yixing is the Actual Angel instead of Minseok. And maybe he's just reading it all wrong, but it's been years since Kris has dared to make advances on anyone and it's been even longer since he's gotten a positive reaction.
Sitting outside a convenience store, in the middle of the night and having a conversation like this.
This is new.
"Hyung, wake up."
Kris grumbles and rolls around, turning away from the voice that dares to disrupt his sleep. He spent half the night out of the house, eating unhealthy food and speaking an unhealthy amount of words. Then he spent another hour in the bathroom, trying to wash the grin off his face and a good chuck of time after that rolling in his bed. It's too early in the morning to have thoughts.
"Hyung, it's almost ten," Sehun tries insistently. "The house is on fire."
"Leave," Kris commands, grumbling some more. "Call Jongdae if you need."
"Hyung," Sehun says nevertheless, showing no signs of moving. Kris registers a hint of annoyance in his tone, can see him narrowing his eyes through closed lids. "The art critic is sitting in our living room."
WHAT. "WHAT?"
"Good morning."
Kris can feel his heart pounding in his chest the same monstrous way Sehun's smug grin is burning at the back of brain. Younger brothers are horrible. Younger brothers who know you well are the worst. "That was a horrible joke, you brat."
"I am serious," Sehun says, unrelenting. "He's sitting on our couch and looking at the paintings."
"No way."
"Yes way."
Sehun's face almost greets the back of the door as Kris' haste to shove him out of his room. Being unprepared is definitely not a nice feeling, Kris reflects, as he brushes his teeth furiously. It's a feeling that makes you want to curl up and not face what's behind you door, he decides, trying his best to pick a pair of jeans out with minimal force.
It takes a lot of effort.
It takes even more effort to resist the urge to hide in his closet instead.
"I thought you were going to call me," Kris says fifteen minutes later, stepping out of his room with the calmness of a monk, walking elegantly like a swan and ignoring the way Sehun is silently cackling to himself in the background like a hyena.
"I did call you," Yixing explains, a pleased smile on his face. "Thrice."
Kris feels his eyebrows raise dramatically at that. Checking his phone, he finds no notifications of a missed call. Sehun probably understands his confusion though, because he plucks himself off the wall and walks towards them. (Kris gives him no credit for any form of sibling telepathy-it's all because of Kris' eyebrows. They are known to be expressive, to say a thousand words. Four for Kris.)
"You slept through the first two calls," Sehun explains. "So I picked up the third and invited him over."
"What if he was a murderer?" Kris finds himself asking, sibling instinct kicking in, unable to stop the worry from making itself known.
"Why would you have a smiley face after a murderer's name in your phonebook?" Sehun asks back.
"I-" Kris doesn't quite know how to answer that.
To his relief, however, Yixing doesn't react to the newfound information either. Instead, he picks himself off the couch and begins to talk about a new place downtown that apparently has the most amazing breakfast buffet offers.
"So, you're a single parent?" Yixing asks, once they are both seated in the restaurant, freshly made pancakes between them. Chocolate syrup on Yixing's pancakes, maple for Kris.
"Brother," Kris corrects him. Someone's playing a piano somewhere in the restaurant. Kris can still hear Yixing's surprised gasp over the instrumental. He doesn't think too much of it. "He's my younger brother."
"Parents?" Yixing asks carefully, voice unsure, like he can't decide if he's crossing a line he isn't meant to.
"Our parents met an accident when we were really young," he explains. All of his friends know how it all went down. Kris and Sehun were both far too young to be emotional over it. "We're still debating on which one of us was adopted."
"So you're his only guardian?"
"Yeah."
They were young and barely surviving.
Sehun had mentioned once, curled up next to Kris in their small, make-shift bed, that his dream was to have enough money that he could swim in it one day. It was a childish request but having managed to fulfill it helps Kris sleep better at night.
"He must look up to you then," Yixing says, cutting up his pancake into smaller bits. "He's cute kid."
"You can have him if you want," Kris says seriously, feeling significantly lighter. "I don't like him anyway."
"What else do you not like?"
"Jongdae, my friend, you already know Lu Han, oil painting because that stuff's a complete pain in the ass," he rattles off. This is easy. Kris holds a lot of unnecessary grudges, second-doubts almost everything and denies emotional attachment with anything or any person that isn't Sehun. "Decaffeinated coffee. Oh, pineapples on pizza-sweet pizza? No, thank you."
"Is there anything you actually like?"
The words you are on the tip of his tongue. Yixing's laugh is loud and addicting, presence comforting. I like you.
"You know what I don't like?" Yixing continues instead, with a cheeky smile.
"What could you possibly not like?"
"Eyebrows."
Kris feels his throat dry up in an instant, Yixing's laughter only gets louder.
It's fascinating how you can go from feeling completely relaxed to feeling extremely conscious within seconds.
It's irrational, a part of his brain says, but it also doesn't sound like a lie. Every joke has a bit of truth in them, right? What if. What if Kris' been actually reading it all wrong? Maybe Yixing is just being nice and trying to get to know him better, so that he could write a better review? Maybe this is him indirectly turning Kris down. What if-
Kris, suddenly uneasy, somehow manages to mirror Yixing's laughter and laugh the statement off.
He's left trying to catch his breath for the rest of his meal.
Kris figures he can keep up the charade as long as Yixing goes along with their poorly-timed meals and equally-as-uncoordinated banter because he is bad with words but even worse when it comes to feelings or forming long lasting relationships.
It becomes a routine-usually Kris calls Yixing after breakfast to make plans for lunch. On the days that he doesn't, Yixing calls him instead and they end up seeing each other at least six out of the seven days in a week. It's an easy routine to slip into since neither of them have concrete work hours, and Kris makes sure to never touch the topic of liking Yixing ever again.
This lasts just a bit over two months.
They're at the same restaurant again, the one where they had their first breakfast together when Yixing brings it up.
"I just realized today that I've see you every single day this past month," he says casually, eyes on his food as he speaks. I see you too, Kris wants to say, every day when we meet up, and even after that because I can't stop hearing your voice when I work, when I paint, when I go to sleep.
"You make it sound like I force you to eat with me," he says instead, picking up his glass of orange juice. "You enjoy this, don't you?"
"We have lunch together almost every day," Yixing says, nodding with eyes narrowed. "Yet, you still haven't grown the balls to ask me out properly."
Kris, being Kris, promptly chokes on his orange juice.
Half the drink goes up his nose and the other half spurts out of his mouth and onto the table, their food and Yixing's shirt. The synergy between them had gotten significantly better over the past weeks. Kris watches it all go down the drain mournfully.
"Well," says Yixing, looking down at his shirt with regret.
"I am so, so sorry," Kris apologizes profusely. The shirt's white. Light yellow now? And partially see-through now. Kris most certainly does not stare. He focuses on breathing through his nose instead. "I just didn't- I mean-"
"I might have assumed things incorrectly then?" Yixing says, phrasing his sentence into a question.
"No, no," Kris disagrees with haste.
"No?"
"God, no," Kris says. "But you said you didn't like eyebrows and I thought you indirectly said that you didn't like-"
"I said it as a joke," Yixing says, exasperated. "To get back to you for the coffee incident."
"Wait-"
Yixing is still talking to him. Why is Yixing still talking to him? Yixing should be walking out of the door right now, because he dislikes almost everything that makes up Kris' soulful artistic spirit and all Kris does is embarrass him in public over and over again.
Yixing doesn't seem to mind at all, saying, "So I'll just ask you to exclusively got out with me instead."
"Because you like me."
"That's a likely implication."
"You like me," Kris whispers to himself, disbelief extremely clear to his own ears. "You actually love my art and now you like me, too."
"Oh, whoa, slow down," Yixing says with a laugh that bubbles forth. He seems to have long since forgotten his wet shirt. Kris pretends not to notice it either, focusing more on the smile that is directed at him. "Don't push your luck."
"But-"
"Nope," says Yixing. "Don't think I don't remember that one collection of yours with lots of animals."
"Animals?"
"The one where you used God knows how many circles."
"Those weren't circles," Kris corrects him harshly, wounded, brining his hands up to his chest dramatically. He can't stop smiling. "They were egg shapes. A bitch to draw, if you ask me."
"I spent weeks laughing at that one," Yixing snickers nevertheless. "What did you call that collection? Ogle At The Oval's, right?"
"You wound me," Kris says. He tries his level best to contain the grin threatening to slip past and fails. Everything smells like orange juice and he has no idea when no one is doing anything about it. He really couldn't care less.
"Oh, shut up," says Yixing, plucking Kris' hand off his chest, eyes shining. He doesn't let go.
It started off well enough and, suddenly, Kris is beginning to think that the ending is going to be pretty damn amazing too.
Dear Miss_Aztec57, I hope you enjoyed reading this! I also hope that you forgive me for all the liberties I took with your prompt, your bias, and for the haphazard mess this was. ♡