Eternal triangle
Title: Eternal triangle
Pairing: Haehyuk, Yehae, Yehyuk
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, Romance, Slice of life
Length: One-shot, 2,985 words
Summary: The plant, the herbivore and the omnivore, the Hyukjae, the Donghae and the Jongwoon, the muse, the artist and the assistant - the eternal triangle.
Three people - an eternal triangle.
Donghae painted for a living, Jongwoon lived for Donghae and Hyukjae was the key person who got to decide how many sunrises that the both of them could see in their lives. If this was to be portrayed as a food chain, Hyukjae would be the plant, Donghae as the herbivore, and Jongwoon as the Omnivore. If Hyukjae didn’t exist, Donghae wouldn’t possibly live while the Jongwoon who lived for Donghae wouldn’t, too. The plant, the herbivore and the omnivore, the Hyukjae, the Donghae and the Jongwoon, the muse, the artist and the assistant - the eternal triangle.
A house, three levels and a garden - that was a 21st birthday gift from Jongwoon’s father to his eldest son. Jongwoon pondered for a moment; maybe being rich was one of those little elements that brought him to Donghae. He regarded it as fate - everything that concerned Donghae, everything, he regarded them as fate. There was nothing but trees within the house’s proximity. Birds came to visit frequently, and often, there would be rich businessmen, merchants and rich artists coming by, to buy Donghae’s works, of course.
During spring, it’s red. During summer, it’s yellow. During autumn, it’s brown. During winter, it’s white. The furniture in the house was placed stably and neatly. Their colours depended on the seasons. Like a class of well-disciplined students, like the humps of keys on a keyboard, very well-organised. The muse of the artist did the housework, nothing mattered more than his hands to Donghae, and Jongwoon just stared at them stoically, pronounced every single word piercingly clear, “I am an assistant, not a maid.” Yes, a spoilt, rich brat indeed.
Donghae loathed rich businessmen’s visits, especially when they came with women - not theirs, obviously. They sent weird gazes to Hyukjae and they could kill to squeeze even a little chance of touching him. The businessmen would just go, “Introduce your muse to my girl, she’s interested in him ever since she saw one of your paintings in my mansion.” Oh right, they had to say mansion. “Do not taint your hands, milady. Such delicate hands aren’t supposed to touch rough and crude surfaces.” Donghae would use such sentences to deter thorny touches of the women and vexatious remarks if they were discontented. As a bonus, he would flash off a smile, charming and sweet, giving the respect those women needed. Oh great, killing two birds with one smile (stone). People would usually think Donghae expertised in painting, but if you had knew Donghae more than enough as Hyukjae and Jongwoon did, Donghae expertised in sweet-talking, painting was just a hobby.
“Do not,” Donghae drew his lips toward Hyukjae’s neck. “Let your fair, delicate, dainty skin being touched by anyone else.” He licked the spot where Hyukjae’s Adam’s apple positioned. Donghae exhaled and the white curtains danced a little.
“Donghae,” Hyukjae uttered with a cloud of white air followed up. “You know sentence construction matters.” Hyukjae grabbed onto Donghae’s shoulder and pushed him away gently.
-
Donghae pursed his lips time to time while wondering. He lied on the couch and swayed his legs unknowingly.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Jongwoon’s head popped out in Donghae’s vision.
Donghae stared at the head for a good three seconds, as if contemplating whether if he should share some fragments of his thoughts to Jongwoon or not. He spilt it anyway.
“Jongwoon,” Donghae swallowed. “What’s wrong with my sentence construction?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“I know right?” Donghae sat up hastily, face a couple of centimetres close to Jongwoon’s.
“Yeah.” Jongwoon sucked the latter’s lower lip. “Nothing’s wrong.” He smiled.
“I don’t get Hyuk.” Donghae furrowed his eyebrows. “He told me that sentence construction matters.”
“What did you say to him?” Jongwoon raised an eyebrow.
“Do not,” Donghae did the exact action he did to Hyukjae to Jongwoon. “Let your fair, delicate, dainty skin being touched by anyone else.” A wet kiss on a surface was heard. “Like this.”
“Hmm…”
“Maybe he’s angry.”
“Why?”
“Because when I sensed that that woman was going to molest him, I grabbed her hand and told her ‘Do not taint your hands, milady. Such delicate hands aren’t supposed to touch rough and crude surfaces.’ I think Hyukjae was hurt.”
“Of course, you were totally contradicting yourself.” Jongwoon laughed.
“But I was trying to protect him! You do not know how long that bitch’s fingernails are.”
“After all these I think I get Hyukjae’s feelings.”
“Really? What, tell me, Jongwoon.” Donghae took steps closer to the taller. “Tell me.” He turned his face and stuck his ears onto Jongwoon’s lips, just in case he wanted to keep it as a secret. Well, god knew how long it would take Donghae to realise that in this house, there were only three people living in. Within this vicinity, there were only three people living in.
“That is…” Jongwoon bit on Donghae’s bunny-like ear softly. “Not telling.” Jongwoon grinned and turned his back to Donghae, heading to the dining room before yelling out for Hyukjae, asking what they were going to have for dinner.
Horror was written all over the duo’s face when they faced the spectacular sight of their dinner on the dining table.
“Apparently, we ran out of meat.”
The two were still staring blankly at their plates.
“Apparently, we ran out of rice too.”
Still staring.
“Apparently, the only edible stuffs are left with only these.”
“I hate carrots.” Donghae announced.
“I hate tomatoes.” Jongwoon closed his eyes and faced the other side, very much hoped for that dish would disappear once he’d turned his head back again.
“How long do you think we haven’t been to the city for a grocery shopping?”
“Three months?”
“Five?”
“Seven.” Hyukjae answered his own question correctly.
“Oh dang.” Donghae snapped. “How about a delivery.”
“I like the sound of it.” Jongwoon agreed.
“Yup, so what time do you think the delivery will arrive? Do you even think that any food caterers out there would even want to deliver food to this fucking remote place?”
“See, I told you. Hyukjae’s mad.” Donghae whispered to Jongwoon not-so-secretly.
“And our stomachs are the victims.” Jongwoon whispered back. “I’ve been watching him doing grocery shopping every week. He’s obviously lying.”
“Jongwoon-ah, I really hate carrots.” Donghae frowned.
“I really hate tomatoes too. It was your fault, why would I need to eat tomatoes for you.”
“I can hear you guys.”
The both of them froze for a couple of seconds and Jongwoon turned back with a smile.
“Hyukjae-ah,” Hyukjae returned that smile back. “Don’t be mad.” Jongwoon stood up and walked towards Hyukjae, standing at his back and massaged his shoulders. “I’ve heard from Hae, I could totally feel you.”
“Yah, you traitor!” Donghae pointed fingers at him.
“You do?”
“Yeah, that’s so mean. So all along Donghae has only had your skin concerned. He only loves your skin. That’s really bad.”
“What?” Donghae raised an eyebrow.
“I know right,” Hyukjae looked up to Jongwoon. “He said ‘do not let your fair, delicate, dainty skin being touched by anyone else.’ Obviously what he cares about was my skin being touched, not me being touched.”
“He could have put it like this - do not let anyone else touch you.” Jongwoon thought for a moment. “Short and simple!”
“Exactly.” Hyukjae nodded.
“Yah!” Donghae’s eyes wide-opened, couldn’t really fathom the situation.
-
“Damn you Jongwoon for making me eat a two person’s share of carrots and tomatoes.” Donghae cursed while walking along the corridors with a bathrobe, drying his hair with a white towel.
“It’s winter,”
“Hyukjae-ah!” Donghae looked up when he heard a familiar voice came along.
“You’re having too little cloth on you.”
Donghae did nothing but smile.
“Do not trouble me if you’re sick.” Hyukjae turned his back to Donghae, trying to walk away, but he was being held back by Donghae.
“I’m sorry baby.” Donghae planted a kiss on the latter’s neck. “I’m sorry.”
-
Jongwoon sighed upon watching the two walking into the bedroom all lovey-dovey.
“Forgiven?”
“Yeah.” Hyukjae sat on the bed.
“Forgiven.” Donghae beamed.
“Sleep?”
“Yeah.” Hyukjae threw his back onto the bed.
“Sleep.” Still beaming.
There were a couple of weird happenings in this house so far. They weren’t supernatural though. But they were weird. It’s weird how peaceful they could get even when they were in a love triangle. It’s weird how they were willing to give in and take out for each other. It’s weird how sometimes when they weren’t emotionally connected; they would still be connected, in a way. It’s weird because despite how humongous this house was, there was only one bed. Yup, nothing supernatural.
-
Jongwoon was always the first one who got up, followed by Hyukjae and then the lazy bum Donghae. Hyukjae would always make the bed though, after nagging continuously at Donghae about how his clients would rage at him if he’d missed the deadline, about how he would quit being his muse forever and about how he was going to have more carrots for all of his meals for the rest of his life.
“Hyukjae, you know you have to be my muse for a lifetime. Nobody could replace you.” Donghae mumbled, half-awakened.
Jongwoon and Hyukjae waited in the garden for Donghae to get prepared. The both of them made an eye contact at the same time and smiled to each other.
“Do you know why I don’t mind?”
“Mind? You mean about Donghae’s affection towards me?” That sounded as if Hyukjae was trying to pick up a fight.
“Yeah.” Jongwoon managed to give a few slight nods.
“Nope.”
“Because I think it’s fate.”
“Fate?”
“Yup, it’s amazing. I felt special.”
“Yeah,” Hyukjae smiled and looked down. “I felt special too.”
-
Jongwoon’s and Donghae’s encounters were coincidental - fate, perhaps. During an autumn night, it rained so heavily that Jongwoon could feel the pain penetrating into his head. He ran towards the nearest shelter, only to know that that was actually an exhibition room. He didn’t have a choice but to go in, standing outside would seem awkward, or probably disrespectful, so he went in.
Jongwoon was fascinated, until he heard a voice coming from the door.
“Welcome!” He smiled genuinely and fixed his clothes. “You’re the first one.”
“Really? You mean up until now, nobody has come?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head to the left and scratched his temples.
Jongwoon didn’t dare to tell him that he was here because of the heavy pour because he looked like he would cry after giving him a huge false anticipation. He just smiled and complimented his works. Those compliments were true, though.
Before Jongwoon could step his feet out when the rain had stopped, Donghae halted him.
“Here, for you, as a special gift.”
Jongwoon hesitated.
“She’s my mother.” Donghae smiled. “She’s not here in Seoul now. She’s in Mokpo.”
“Doesn’t this have great sentimental value then?” Jongwoon held on the framed painting tightly. “I cannot accept.”
“Nah, I have photos, silly.” Donghae chuckled. “What era are you living now, seriously? You’re so weird.”
“Donghae, you are the weird one. Who on earth would give a stranger a painting of their mum as a special gift? You’re utterly weird.” Jongwoon thought.
-
“Ever heard of body painting?” Donghae asked as he denuded Hyukjae calmly.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s do that.”
Hyukjae sat beside one of the huge windows while Donghae got his painting tools prepared.
“Why didn’t you let Jongwoon in?” Hyukjae was fiddling with the white covers.
Donghae turned around with perfect oblivion, together with his brushes and palette.
“Hyukjae,” Donghae breathed. “Is the heater okay?”
“Yup.” Hyukjae responded obediently and got himself laid on the floor.
Donghae started to dip the first paint onto Hyukjae’s skin. Every single stroke precise and quick, mistakes didn’t even have the chance to break in.
“I’ve read this from a book before,” Hyukjae listened. “A girl fell in love with this man at her mum’s funeral. It was a love at first sight.” Donghae paused. “But not soon after the girl killed her sister.”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?” Donghae questioned back. “I couldn’t recall.”
Hyukjae flinched a bit when Donghae’s brush trailed off to his hips.
“It itches.” Hyukjae chuckled.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to itch.” Donghae laughed.
“What about your pending paintings?”
“They can wait.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I will have them completed before the deadline.”
“Good.” Hyukjae giggled when Donghae’s brush landed on somewhere sensitive again. “What are you drawing?”
“Flowers.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Am I bothering you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
The both of them welcomed the silence unwillingly for minutes.
“Recently, Jongwoon has been looking at you in a different way.”
“Different way?”
“Yeah.” Donghae replied. “It felt as though even if I am not around, the both of you would still be connected.”
“Aren’t we?”
Donghae dropped his brush onto the ground.
“Are we?”
-
The next part where Donghae was going to paint needed Hyukjae to turn over, so he had to allow some time for the paint on Hyukjae’s butt to dry.
“I think it’d turn out great.”
“I think so too.”
“Is this a sign of narcissism?” Hyukjae laughed.
“It’ll turn out great because of your skin.”
“My skin again.”
“It’ll turn out great because of you.” Donghae rephrased.
“How is that so?” Hyukjae interrogated.
“Because you’re the muse that I’d die for. Because you are my muse. Because your body is the best canvas that I’ve ever touched on.”
“Ah…” Hyukjae nodded with a fairly satisfied smile.
“Oh I remembered.”
“What?”
“That girl, she killed her sister because only to hold another funeral, she’d get to see the man once more.”
“Seriously?”
“But that girl is psychotic.”
“Does a psychotic fall in love?”
“I suppose so…”
“But it’s funny how she’d kill for that man.”
“I would, too.” Donghae stared at the scenery outside the window. Very vaguely, he saw Jongwoon’s figure.
“But there are many other alternative ways.” Hyukjae looked up to Donghae, only to know that Donghae’s attention wasn’t here anymore.
The body painting continued. Donghae lifted Hyukjae’s head and rested it on his lap; he then started to outline the shape of a tree branch. Around an hour later, Donghae made the last few touches on Hyukjae’s face. He then highlighted the last petal on his cheek.
“Hyukjae,” Donghae rested his brush on the ground. “You look drop-dead gorgeous.”
Hyukjae wanted to stand, but Donghae stopped him.
“Don’t move; stay like this for a little while more.”
-
Hyukjae stared at his reflection. It was hard for him to decide whether if he’s the pretty one or the paint was. He had no confidence to affirm anything. He was utterly astonished. Behind Hyukjae came by Jongwoon. He closed the door shut after he had fully stepped into their bedroom.
“Beautiful.”
“Me, or the painting?”
“Both.” Jongwoon smiled.
“I’ll be having a hard time to remove these tonight.” Hyukjae took a few steps closer to Jongwoon.
“I’ll help.” Jongwoon did the same too.
“Donghae?”
“I…” Jongwoon drew in closer. “Don’t know.” Their lips crashed.
Jongwoon pushed Hyukjae to the other end of the room. He had their fingers interlocked because he couldn’t possibly grab on any part of Hyukjae’s so casually. And when they kissed, Jongwoon’d almost forgotten the fact that Hyukjae’s face had paint too. Jongwoon withdrew.
“Why did you kiss me?” Hyukjae wondered if he should smile.
“Omnivores… eat plants too.” Jongwoon smirked and headed to the door. “It’s been five years, huh?” Jongwoon turned and look at the giant painting hanged above their bed. “For being special.”
-
The second time Jongwoon had met Donghae was at the funeral home.
“Ah,” The smaller man voiced. “It’s you.”
“Oh, hello.”
The both of them didn’t know how to continue. Asking ‘what are you doing here’ wouldn’t be appropriate.
“One of my relatives passed away.” Jongwoon tried to make the situation less tense.
“Ah…” Donghae gulped. “My mother, passed away, too…”Donghae forced out a smile.
“Ah, that painting…”
“Uh yeah… I had photos though. I did tell you.”
“Yeah…” Jongwoon forced out a smile too. “Can I... pray?”
“Sure.” Donghae brought Jongwoon to the hall.
“You do have pretty photos.”
“Yeah.”
“But I think that painting is the prettiest. It’s a pity.”
“No, I gave that to you.”
“My condolences.”
-
“Jongwoon-ah, should I thank god that my mum’s the only kin I had? What would happen if we never meet again?” Third time, the meeting was at some random café on the street. Jongwoon greeted him first, and they were settled down together.
“What are you talking about?” Jongwoon laughed. “I don’t get you.”
“I’m glad that we met again.”
“You’re weird.”
“You’re special.”
Third time’s the charm.
-
Hyukjae covered himself with long sleeves and pants. Jongwoon, being a considerate assistant, lowered the temperature in the house. Donghae, was sitting on the couch, entertaining a man with two mistresses.
“If we are the eternal triangle, is this situation that we are viewing now an eternal rectangle?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jongwoon-ah, do you think I should meet them?”
“Yeah, they wanted to meet you.”
“Dang.” Hyukjae cursed. “Women are scary.”
“Off you gooooo.” Jongwoon kicked the latter’s ass and walked out to the living hall together with him.
“Awww, what a beautiful man.”
“Awww, what a fine man.”
Both sentences were spoken at the same time, but directed to a different person.
For some reason, Donghae felt threatened. More than what he had usually experienced.
“Your fine skin is so - ” The two women’s speech were being interrupted by the artist.
“Do not taint your hands, sweeties. Such delicate hands aren’t supposed to touch filthy and dark surfaces.” Donghae said that while nodding his head on Hyukjae’s and Jongwoon’s hands respectively.
Oh great, killing two birds with one stone again. But somehow, that stone bounced back and hit on two eagles instead.
Back to square one.
A/n: I'd always wanted to write this ;~; but recently the thought of wanting Hyukjae to get body painted suddenly surfaced up in my mind. And so, Idek what I am writing here but yeah. Haha. What a long fic. Haha. Comments are doubtlessly appreciated \O/