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Chapter Text

“Why are you doing this..?” His voice was laced with nothing but lust, “why me?” 

That piercing gaze staring at him burnt. It wasn’t only looking at his trembling body, or at his glossy eyes now the color of peach wine, or at his flushed, exposed shoulders. Nor was it focused solely on his slightly open mouth, spouting whatever embarrassing nonsense.

He felt it staring at his soul, and he felt completely naked. Even more so than if he was simply undressed. No. The body… The nakedness of the body was one thing, but this…

This feeling of exposure, this feeling of being completely bare from the inside out was, he imagined, worse. There was nothing he could hide, Hwei felt. His desire, his fear, his neediness, it was all laid out for Jhin to see. 

Hwei was never one for fate, his world and everything around it was art. That’s why it was all the more meaningful when Jhin didn’t just meddle with him for spite. No, he chose him. Jhin chose him because of his limitless potential… and, of course, his repressed desires. 

“You’re an artist, Hwei,” came Jhin’s melodious voice. He sounded so pleased with himself, making Hwei tremble even more. Was he content with his current state, Hwei couldn’t help but wonder. “You know better than to ask why…” He whispered.

His hands, strong, rough yet delicate, were caressing his torso. Over his clothes, of course. They were both fully dressed.

Hwei felt him fondle his chest, almost (painfully) touching the skin below his collarbone. He felt Jhin explore his belly, threatening to go further south. It was agony. However, the most agonizing part wasn’t the sensual groping, it was feeling his body accept his touch with all he had. With every cell, he welcomed Jhin’s hands and even expected more.

More contact. More exposure. More attention. Connection.

“But,” Jhin said, hands suddenly stopping. Hwei caught himself before a whimper escaped his lips. “I’ll indulge you so with reasoning… Although it’s nothing you don’t already know.” 

The man’s somber laugh seemed to travel throughout Hwei’s skin, muscles reacting involuntarily. 

“You… are my masterpiece.” 

He had to be going mad. If not, what way was there to explain that this man was making him feel as if he was art incarnate? Clay under the hands of a master? Paper to be drenched in paint? It made his heart jump inside his chest, his heartbeat loud in his ears like a thunderstorm. 

“Maybe not today, no…” Jhin’s hands resumed their work as he spoke again, “you and I know there’s still something deep inside you holding you down. You’re still… bound, Hwei. So, one day in the future, I’ll make sure you are my magnum opus.”

His magnum opus. That’s what he just called him. 

He could feel his body respond more and more, desire building up in his groin, painfully so.

How did it come to this? It hadn’t even been a month since Jhin’s arrival. 

It was a funny thought, though, because he knew. Deep, deep inside, behind those restraints Jhin kept talking about that he was still not very well aware of, Hwei had known since the very first time their eyes met each other that this man was dangerous. Maybe at the time he didn’t comprehend just how much danger Jhin meant, but he was certain he was dangerous to him.

He was sure this man- enigmatic, charismatic, artistic-, this man would change him forever.

Three weeks ago

“Master Hwei, here,” a young man beamed, excited. He was twelve, but had an early growth spurt and looked funnily elongated for a child. 

Hwei received the box full of supplies. Brushes, cans of paint, painting spatulas, charcoal… It was all there. The already easygoing smile on Hwei’s lips grew slightly, making the boy blush giddily. 

“Thank you, and, please,” his voice seemed to scold, but his sweet, warm amber eyes betrayed him. As they often did. “It’s just Hwei… I’m not the master of anything.” The master of nothing forced a quiet, awkward laugh.

“Master,” came a new, mature voice. A woman, seemingly in her twenties, came into the room behind the young boy. “You do know you are the heir to this conservatory, right?” She had a slightly rude tone, and spoke with too much confidence. To strangers, she might appear unfriendly, but Hwei knew better.

He laughed, genuinely this time.

“It’s just…” Hwei shook his head. “No, nevermind. Let’s just get this all organized before the next group comes.” 

“Aye!” Exclaimed the boy. 

They were currently cleaning a grand studio, a dozen art stations arranged facing the center of the room where a round platform stood. The ceiling was incredibly tall, and the windows huge. 

Soft brown of the stone walls, summer’s golden sunlight and tree branches freely making their way inside through the windows blended together to give the impression of being inside a gigantic tree. And this was only one of the many rooms.

Looking around, Hwei sometimes felt overwhelmed. Such a wonderful, special place. How could he manage? 

He glanced at the unusual pair. Siblings, students at the conservatory mastering different forms of art. The boy, Tao, was studying watercolors under Hwei’s tutelage, and the young woman, Fan, was mastering clay sculpting. They were both incredibly talented, starry eyed youths enamored with art.

Yes, that’s how he could manage. Because it was not about him, Hwei the individual, but about becoming something greater. A safekeeper of this wonderful place. 

With these warm thoughts Hwei finished preparing the room for the next lecture. It was well past noon and he had finished his tasks for the day. His masters had been kind to leave him to his devices past three, where his usual day ended at seven or so. 

He said goodbye to Fan and Tao before practically run-walk to his room, fetch his dark blue cloak with deep orange embroidery at the hems, and this time just run to the grand entrance of the monastery. How jovial, he thought, for a man his age. With a faint, embarrassed smile, he started walking.

How sad was it for him to feel such a thrill from a mere three to four hours of freedom (while there was still sun outside, that was)? 

Soft lights of many colors caught his attention, stopping his pity party. 

A wide path seemed to flow from his feet as he stood at the beginning of the stone steps before Koyehn’s mill town. Less than an hour away from the temple, and filled with the rustling, orchestral sounds of civilization. 

But what Hwei loved more than anything else were the colors. Tones of yellow, orange, red, brown, white, they all blended together through the captivating bazaars, the diverse community and the nature all around them. Countless, breathtaking images unfolded in front of Hwei, as if surrounded by millions of unique paintings, drawings, pictures… And yet, it was all one grand piece. It was beautiful, and filled Hwei’s heart with inspiration that, unfortunately, would have to be bottled safely until later tonight.

His fingers itched, longing for his brush or at least pencil and paper in order to capture the moment through his lens. But he knew better, it was too dangerous. 

It was too dangerous to give in to these emotions, as he had a habit of… creating too much, one could say.

For now, he would have to trust his senses and his memory.

After strolling for some time, he came across a street performer in front of a large fountain surrounded by a considerably large crowd. 

Interest more than piqued, Hwei squeezed between the townsfolk until he was behind the children at the front, more than enough to see the figure and its show.

The performer was dressed in a dark magenta garment, long enough to be a dress but covered enough to confuse the eye. The only visible part of the curious outfit were the eyes, a striking green, and tanned hands. Only then Hwei noticed they were playing the violin.

“A violin performance, how beautiful!” One person cheered.

“Such grace,” voiced a woman.

It was a cheerful tune, inviting the audience to clap, laugh, and dance. Hwei himself couldn’t help but smile a little, too.

As the melody reached its end, everyone started clapping. Everyone but one single stranger among the crowd. 

Hwei’s hands almost touched each other to join in when his eyes caught a glimpse of the stranger’s gaze, at the other side of the crowd from where he was standing. 

It was piercing. In that split second he saw a vortex of emotions he had never seen before. 

A chill ran through his spine, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck on edge.

He blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes. The stranger was still there, lazily cloaked and, of course, no clapping. He was facing the artist, away from Hwei, so there were no red eyes that could see his insides, there was no vortex of emotion. 

Of course, it must have been the wind. A cold breeze and a tired mind playing tricks on him. 

He collected himself before stepping away from the crowd. People were begging the performer for more and throwing whatever coin they could find, so it started to become somewhat overwhelming.

That was the excuse, anyway. 

Hwei let his feet wander without much thought. He figured it would ease the strange feeling lingering over his chest. 

Fortunately, the stroll helped greatly. He was certain it had been nothing but lack of sleep. God knows how much he needed at least ten hours of good, dreamless sleep.

Before he realized, it was six thirty, the sun beginning to set slowly.

Street lights started to appear, bathing the streets in soft golden. It was a gorgeous touch, Hwei thought, wanting to keep the image fresh for later, when he could finally paint to his heart’s content. 

He walked a little more before sitting down on a stone walling that reached his upper thighs. He looked up to the skies, content, wondering where to go next.

However, he would not be able to decide. Fate- or rather, something much more sinister, had already decided for him. 

Next to his right foot, not even a meter away, lay a single lotus flower. 

It was strange. The color was darker than the ones he’d seen, and this particular species didn’t grow close to town. He picked it up, carefully, delicately. He inspected its petals, amazed by the wonderful shades of dark purple and pink perfectly dancing together. At its center, the yellow seemed to almost glow in contrast. He’d never seen anything quite like it... 

His eyes followed an invisible thread as he tried to imagine where it came from. From the spot next to his feet, upwards. 

There, sitting on a nearby bench, was the stranger. The lazily cloaked, non-clapping stranger.

Something stirred inside Hwei. Something he couldn’t understand, or maybe something he didn’t want to understand.

The mysterious figure, seemingly a man now that Hwei could see their whole body, was dressed in simple yet stylish clothes. Deep blue pants that seemed almost purple with black boots. Below the black cloak lined with gold thread his red shirt peeked. His left hand was covered by what Hwei thought was an archery glove extending all the way to his elbow.

He looked tall, lean and athletic without being overly muscly. 

Would his eyes be red, too, like the vision from earlier? 

Hwei stopped himself from wondering too deeply about it, and instead chose to focus on the similar lotus flower in the person’s hands. He was carefully painting the petals.

Wait, what?

He shook his head, feeling lost. The man was actually painting the lotus flower. There was a brush coated with pigment in his right hand, and Hwei saw it paint over the delicate pink of the petal. 

It was bizarre, it was a crazy image and yet, somehow, to Hwei made complete sense. Of course, paint it! 

He caught himself smiling, quickly looking down to hide his probably crazy face. What was he thinking? Smiling at a stranger like that…

But…

He still had to give back the flower, right? He couldn’t just steal something as beautiful as this. 

So, gathering up his courage, Hwei made his way to the one person who would change his life forever.

“Um, excuse me,” Hwei said, softly. His heart was about to jump out and paint the flower red. Haha.

“Yes?” Answered the deep, melodic voice of the other man. He didn’t stop painting. 

“I, uh,” he extended his hand, showing the lotus flower, “I found this.” He tried to be polite, yet a somewhat familiar feeling spread from his chest.

The other man’s hands stopped, and he finally looked up at Hwei. 

Piercing, intense red eyes.

Hwei dropped the lotus flower out of shock, his arms recoiling. His entire body screamed in frequencies extremely foreign.  

He felt fear. In those red eyes he saw danger, pain, freedom. He saw strength and… indescribable beauty. He felt a strange desire. Beyond the flesh, desire to understand, desire to know more. 

Where did these emotions come from? Was this, perhaps, magic? 

Was he being tricked by a spell from this man? Or was he simply more foolish than he imagined, moved so strongly by feelings he couldn’t comprehend, much less understand their origin? 

“Your eyes… How lovely.” 

Huh?

While Hwei was on the verge of meltdown, the stranger had put away his things and picked up the fallen flower. The two flowers, one fully painted and one incomplete, lay side by side to his left on the bench.

Hands now free, he patted the spot on his right. 

Hwei swallowed harshly, throat dry, and slowly sat. 

The heir to the Temple of Koyehn forced all his irrationality to the back of his mind. This person had not done nothing to him but offer a seat! This traveler did not deserve such rudeness. What would his masters think? What an impression he was making, looking at a simple visitor as if he was some sort of demon!

Ashamed with himself, Hwei realized he was acting weird, so he forced a smile. Although, it looked more like a painful wince. 

It must have been a funny face, because the other man laughed. A deep, velvety laugh. It was captivating, really. He was still partially covered by the black cloak from earlier, so from this angle all Hwei could see was his mouth.

“My… my eyes?” Hwei repeated, unsure.

“They change color. How beautiful.”

Beautiful, he said. Hwei lowered his gaze, the tips of his ears turned rosy pink, and his irises turned the color of pink wine. His smile relaxed a little despite the embarrassment.

“This is…”

“Your emotions, am I correct?” Said the stranger, “or perhaps you control it?” 

He seemed very intrigued, making Hwei feel conflicted. On the surface he felt shyness, but deep down there was something begging for more. 

That something seemed to grow with every second under that scarlet gaze.

“Just happens… It has been this way ever since I was young. My masters told me it was connected to my emotions, and my paint magic.”

A smirk. “You are truly fascinating, and yet,” he said, pulling at the hood of the cloak, “I do not know your name, and you do not know mine. Isn’t that a shame?” 

The fabric finally fell. Hwei didn’t even realize he was holding his breath as he stared. 

Mature features, thin lips, hollow cheekbones and a strong jaw. Hwei didn’t even know what he was expecting, maybe demon eyes, demon horns. 

Now he just felt stupid.

“Hwei,” he said, “Lukai Hwei.”

There was nothing wrong with sharing his name, right? As the heir to the Temple, he only needed to ask around and he’d get it.

The smirk on the other’s lips widened slightly. 

“Khada Jhin,” he said in response, extending a hand.

As Hwei stared dumbstruck at that charming smile, there was a faint alarm in his ears. Far, far away, it was urging him to get away. Telling him this man was bad news, and how those red eyes had the power to shine the spotlight on dangerous, repulsive parts of himself. 

Of course, he didn’t listen. He had no reason to.

So Hwei simply smiled back.

“Do you think this looks good, master?”

Silence.

“It is wrong, isn’t it?” A sigh. “I knew something was off…”

Silence, again.

“...Master?”

Still nothing.

Hwei’s little disciple, Tao, turned around in confusion. Did his master leave?

His master was there, all right, his body just where it had been for the past fifteen minutes. He was sitting in front of a large canvas with only the pencil sketch on it. His brush was still on his hand, paintless, as it had been for the past half an hour. 

His master was there, but his mind was elsewhere. 

The young boy put his own brush down. He was used to Hwei being a little aloof, but not like this. This was new. 

Tao stood in front of his master and waved a hand over his face. 

“Earth calling to master Hwei,” he sang, finding this incredibly amusing.

A startled master, blushing furiously, now frowned at poor Tao. 

“I, I,” Hwei stuttered, “I was…” 

“Did something good happen to you, master?” 

Hwei knew Tao, being only twelve, was unable to suggest anything… “mature”, so to speak. However, and even though nothing he did the night before even came remotely close to “mature” in nature, the boy’s sly grin made him feel incredibly embarrassed.

“No! Of course not, I was just thinking about this painting.” 

Yes, this very painting. This canvas, with a sketch, for a painting. This one.

“Uh-huh,” Tao giggled, “what were you thinking about it?”

“You know, I was, uh, wondering where to start.” 

“Did you escape?” Another giggle, followed by a childish whisper, “did you do something bad?” 

Did he do something bad?

“No. I did no such… What do you mean ‘escape’? I’m not a prisoner.”

“So you did escape?”

“No more of this nonsense.” Master Hwei was beet red, and his shoulders started blushing as well in shame. “Let us review your painting.”

Tao, being only a tender twelve, didn’t catch up on how much embarrassment his master was in, so he dropped the issue rather quickly. They painted some more before morning class ended and the boy had to go back home. 

It was only twelve in the afternoon. Hwei had a lecture of his own with his masters by two. This meant almost two hours of free time. 

Normally, this time would be used for work. Boring, everyday paper work that needed to be done.

Normally.

Hwei walked to his room trying to act as normal as possible. A normal afternoon, a normal walk, a normal room. Outside of his bedroom he made sure no one followed (not that anyone would).

At last he entered in a rush, relaxing only when his forehead touched the cold wooden door tightly shut. 

“You know,” came a melodic, deep voice behind him, “one would think the heir to the Temple of Koyehn would be allowed to have a guest if he so desires.”

Hwei’s shoulders blushed again. 

“Yes, well, it’s not that I can’t,” he spoke, and cleared his throat before turning to look at the enchanting man in his bed. “It’s just way less… trouble.”

He was met with a slight smirk. Hwei never imagined he would be living this picture. A handsome individual comfortably lying in his bed, wearing a simple white shirt he himself lent him. Blood rushed to his head. He was certain his eyes were pink or even red as he tried to pull his mind out of the gutter.

It didn’t help how Jhin could read him like a book, given his amused, quiet laugh.

“You’re right, I know,” he ran a hand through his hair and Hwei felt his throat suddenly dry as a desert, “it’s very easily misunderstood. I mean, there is a man in your bed, wearing your shirt, half asleep…” 

He was teasing. Of course he was. In the brief moment they shared last night, Hwei could tell this man loved to tease. His eyes tried to focus on something else, but casting aside his stare was difficult. 

“Don’t say it like that,” only then Hwei realized he was smiling. Almost laughing. “You make it sound like I took advantage of you.”

“And did you not?” said Jhin.

“I did not even sleep on that bed.” Hwei rolled his eyes, actually laughing now.

Jhin seemed to stare at him for a moment before speaking again, as if he was waiting for something or… admiring something. 

“Yes, truly a shame.” The way he spoke, looking at Hwei straight to his eyes, with that sweet, enchanting tone, with that smile. It was dangerous. “Maybe some other time.”

Unable to accept that this person was clearly flirting, Hwei made way to his desk. He occupied his hands with organizing stuff. Perfect excuse, since his desk was always a mess.

“Well, sadly it will be best if we get you a decent room now.” ‘Sadly’? Why did it come out like that?

It took everything in Jhin not to continue teasing when Hwei made for such an open target. 

“Very well,” Jhin’s smile relaxed, but his gaze was intense on Hwei’s back. The painter could feel it, too. “I will only stay for the summer, and I can be very discreet. So you will not even feel my presence.”

That would certainly be very difficult, Hwei wanted to say. 

“I’ll go arrange that, then. So you can focus on your work.” Jhin continued, getting on his feet. He had some old brown slacks that Hwei found. “And, of course, once I’m settled I’ll pay back your kindness in full.”

“There is no need for that, I simply lent you a place to sleep for the night.”

“And you did it even though it was so much trouble,” his voice sounded like a laugh as the word rolled off his tongue, “how can I not show my gratitude?”

“I…” Hwei sighed, defeated. He could sense Jhin wouldn’t budge. “Okay.” 

“Marvelous.” Jhin appeared next to him, smiling. He was suddenly so close the painter could see his striking features with great detail, his artistic mind painting the picture brightly in his head.. Startled, Hwei stumbled against the desk. His eyes were a mixture of yellow and pink, embarrassed out of this world. “What would you like to do? Shall we eat your favorite food? Drink your favorite wine?”

“No, no, no,” Hwei collected himself before smiling politely. “No need for any of that.”

“Shall we paint together?”

Hwei’s eyes widened. His gaze was fixed on the floor, but as he processed Jhin’s suggestion his head shot upwards to look at him directly. His face was burning, and he couldn’t stop analyzing the details of Jhin’s face.

While he was a mess of emotions, Jhin’s smirk was calm, elegant. He was very close but his hands were behind his back. He looked innocent on the surface, yet his eyes seemed to hide a deeper meaning.

He was flirting. He really was flirting with him.

This stranger was most likely after something, he wanted something from Hwei. That had to be it. But what? He had already gotten to stay at the Temple, unless that was it? Hwei didn’t think there was anything particularly special about the Temple. Maybe Jhin just… really loved art.

“That… would be nice,” Hwei heard himself say. His mind was blank, so the words left his mouth before he could process their meaning. “I’d like that.” He whispered.

Chapter Text

Lectures were hell. Absolute hell. 

His masters made sure to examine every stroke with deadly nitpicking, questioning even the slightest color change. It was exhausting. 

He knew they were pushing him for greatness. They were only trying to help him achieve the most of his potential and conceal the dangerous part of his power. Guide him to use it for the best, to use it correctly.

But it was so, so exhausting. 

And he’d only finished the first half of the lecture. What do you mean it was only five o’clock? 

Hwei always left the lecture hall feeling the need to run away, become a nobody far away and leave this Temple to his masters, since they always seemed to know best. 

Of course, he had never voiced these thoughts to anyone. He locked up this selfishness deep inside, along with his most carnal desires. He imagined this as a vault. It had ten locks, covered in chains, and must never be opened. Ever.

Besides, he could never run away from duty. He could never express such ingratitude, and give into the dangers of his power. What if he hurt himself? What if he hurt others?

His feet and his stomach took him to the cafeteria. Right now, his hunger was greater than his misery. 

The cafeteria was a huge, wide hall with dozens of tables that smelled heavenly. The food was fairly simple, the meals humble. However, the flavor was fantastic. In summer, the Temple made a special, seasonal lemonade that everyone enjoyed, so today it smelled faintly like berries. 

Usually by this time it was quiet, only a few alumni enjoying their meal. Today, however, things were different.

Today Jhin was here.

He was dressed exactly as Hwei had met him, minus the cloak. His elegant burgundy top was particularly eye-catching among the more neutral tones of the Koyehn’s disciples surrounding him. 

Hwei couldn’t yet hear him, but whatever he was saying seemed to enchant everyone. He had made this his stage, and those here his audience. 

He looked beautiful, gallantly telling a story. Or perhaps he was discussing art? Literature? Culture? 

How many places did he know? How many cities had he visited? How many artists had shared a stage with this person?

With a sharp, quick breath Hwei made his way inside. He thought he might disturb the scene if he called out to Jhin, and what a nice scene it was. So he simply ignored them all as best as he could.

There was a dangerous thought creeping, like a snake, up his spine. Cautiously making its way into his brain. Somewhere in the darkest places of his mind, an idea bloomed:

‘They can have him for now.’

Of course, he didn’t entertain this notion further because one, he didn’t even realize what he was truly thinking, and two, someone tapped his shoulder.

“The sweet pork sure is interesting, isn’t it?” Jhin said, luring Hwei’s gaze to his own. 

Only then Hwei realized he was staring intensely at the large plate of sweet pork on the table as he held the self serving tongs. His plate was still empty, so it gave the impression that whether to get sweet pork or spicy chicken was the hardest choice of his life.

The painter opened his mouth, then shut it. What was he supposed to say? I was almost about to think there is a chance I will have you to myself later, so I didn’t bother to cut short your one man cafeteria show?

“Maybe, yes,” Hwei heard himself say, “I was thinking the chicken might be too spicy for me.”

“Oh, really?” Jhin’s lips curved into a smirk, in contrast with his nonchalant voice.

“Yes, really.” Unconsciously, Hwei straightened his back. 

“Do you dislike spicy food?”

“I like it, but I can’t handle it.”

Jhin’s smirk slowly turned into a grin, and his eyes glinted as if he heard something else entirely. Instead of replying, he simply nodded. “Should we eat? I haven’t had dinner yet, figured I’d find you here, eventually, and we could sit together.”

“I’d love that,” Hwei chirped, relaxing into a smile now that the previous topic was dropped. “I’ll arrange this plate for you, then,” he gestured towards the food, “pork or chicken?”

“The spicy one would be… just delightful.”

Dinner left Hwei with a strange, bubbly feeling. His chest was warm, and he felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily move upwards, trying to smile. He wanted desperately to paint this feeling.

On his way to his lecture, he imagined it. Vividly. 

A dash of yellow, a splash of orange, a lot of red and purple. No, not quite purple, maybe more of a rich burgundy. Yes! Perfect.

Giving into his visions, he could feel the colors around him by the time he reached the lecture hall’s grand entrance. A mute sea of dark brown that guarded a prison cell void of all passion. That’s how he saw it, at least.

The immense doors stood in front of him and, slowly, all color drowned in them. 

Hwei’s feet ran as fast as they could take him. His breathing was erratic and his hands trembled. 

He ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. He ran until his lungs burnt and his thighs screamed out in pain. He didn’t care about any of this, as the words of his masters hurt more than anything could ever hurt. 

At last, after running what felt like a thousand miles, he reached his hideout. 

Well, it wasn’t really hidden as much as forgotten. It was a storage room in the far left of the Temple. Dusty, now partially empty. Hwei had made it his tiny fortress of color, hiding away paint supplies, small canvases and an array of unique brushes. 

The room was small in comparison to everything else in the Temple. All of its spaces and halls, even the more humble ones, had a feeling of grandiose built into them, so this one felt like a different reality. 

Perfect, thought Hwei the first time he hid away here, absolutely perfect. A different world, a different life. But only for a moment. 

He didn’t really want a different life. He just wanted to learn how to carry the weight, the burden of this one without hurting. 

Hwei was about to shut the door when gloved fingers held it open. 

“Wait,” said Jhin, out of breath, “one wouldn’t think… you were this fast…” He whispered.

“How did you find me? Did you follow me?”

“I did.” Jhin composed himself quickly, tidying his shirt with one hand. He hadn’t let go of the door yet.

“Why?”

“Well…” 

Hwei saw Jhin’s expression change almost three times. Amusement, confusion, worry. Worry? Or maybe annoyance. He was impossible to read even when you had the words.

“Well?” Hwei was pressing the matter insistently, surprising them both. 

“Well, I…” A new expression graced Jhin’s features, softer than all the others. “I don’t know.”

“...You don’t know why you followed a running man?”

“I don’t know why I followed you, Hwei,” he stared into the painter’s eyes, their color now a mixture of dark red and brown. It almost looked as if the brown was winning over the red. “I was on my way to my room, wondering where you could be, and I saw you run past… My legs moved before I could think.”

“You’re lying,” the brown of Hwei’s eyes grew intense. “You’re lying, Jhin, you don’t care about me, you just want something from me.”

His voice- shattered, on the verge of tears- was but a whisper. Only audible enough for Jhin to hear.

“What makes you think that?” Jhin asked, stern. Seeing as Hwei didn’t reply, neither made an attempt to reply, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.

That did the trick, apparently, since Hwei spoke as soon as it was tightly shut.

“So what, then? Why are you so kind to me? Why do you put on this performance, looking at me as if I was… As if I was…”

“Beautiful?” Jhin cut in. Hwei was not brave enough to say that, even in this altered state. 

“I don’t know! Yes? Maybe,” the tips of his ears blushed despite himself, “I don’t know… Why would you? Just tell me what you want from me, please… Before I…” Hwei’s trembling hands pushed Jhin’s chest away.

Except they didn't. He pushed with no force whatsoever, looking rather sickly in his movements.

Jhin stayed put, brows knitting together. “Before you…?” He whispered.

After a few moments of silence, Hwei said, “Before I believe you.”

Tears finally broke free, covering the painter’s cheeks in glistening streaks. He did not sob or whine. The only indication he was crying was the sound of tears hitting the floor. Tic, tic, tic.
Four tears fell. Eight tears fell. Twelve.

There wouldn’t be a thirteenth, however. With the sound of the twelfth droplet against the hardwood floor Jhin pulled Hwei close in a delicate embrace, his tears now falling on this shoulder. 

Hwei let him manhandle him as he pleased, misery winning over embarrassment. His eyes were now a deep pool of dark brown.

“Please, Jhin,” he whispered, “just tell me what you want… I promise I’ll comply, I will do my best to meet your demands, I really will, just…” eyelashes fluttered shut in an attempt to block out the burgundy of Jhin’s top. 

“Do you promise?” 

When Hwei processed Jhin’s question his head shut upwards, locking eyes with the other man. So it was true. He simply wanted something. Of course, nothing new here… So why did it hurt so much?

A new color bloomed among the sea of brown. A dark, blackish red. 

“I do, yes,” Hwei nodded, “tell me.”

Jhin's right hand moved from his waist to his cheek, caressing it lovingly before tucking the longer side of his bangs behind his ear. 

“I want to know what happened to you.” 

Hwei stared in confusion, suddenly forgetting the pain. All of it. 

What?

“Don’t joke right now, I’m not… Just speak.” 

“You asked me what I wanted from you, did you not? And I answered.”

“You know what I mean! This… this kindness, this worrying over me, you want something, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want to know who or what hurt you so badly.”

“Jhin!”

Hearing his name being called out like that, in such a desperate yet somewhat cute whimper, Jhin couldn’t stop a short laugh from escaping his lips. “Hwei,” he took the painter’s wrists into his hands, stepping even closer. His face a mere inches away from Hwei’s, “I don’t want anything from you.” 

Their eyes clashed. Hwei felt the stubbornness slowly leaving his body, replaced by an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. 

“I…”

Jhin continued before Hwei could speak, “I don’t want anything from you. If I’m kind to you, if I’m sweet to you, if I worry about you, it is simply because I want to. I want to know more about you. Is that… really so difficult to believe?”

The uneasiness felt sour. A harsh line of neon yellow across a soft orange sky. It almost stung.

“No, but I…” He began, eyes fixated on the floor. Jhin stayed silent this time. Maybe he knew as well as Hwei there were no excuses left for him to hide behind. “You… are right. I’m sorry I treated you so poorly…”

“No need to apologize. I think I came off too strong, anyone would have felt strange.” Jhin stroked his chin, deep in thought. 

The seriousness of his face, enhanced by his sharp features, made Hwei laugh a little. 

“Nothing wrong with that… I like it.” He confessed. What was there to lose, at this point? He’d shown Jhin such an embarrassing sight already.

After being lost in thought for a brief moment, Hwei became conscious of the lack of response. He looked up, scared he might have scared Jhin by being so straightforward, but he found the man staring at him with the most tender look he’d shown so far.

His red eyes were kind, warm. His mouth relaxed into a tiny smile. No smirk, no grin, just a slight curve of the lips that softened his entire face. 

Had he been looking at Hwei like this the entire time?

“Please,” Jhin said, “tell me what happened.” He guided the other to sit on a couple of lonely chairs at the end of the room, facing each other.

With a deep, shaky breath and a nod, Hwei began.

He told him everything. He didn’t plan to, but it was inevitable. He had kept so much bottled up, stored away his feelings for so long. Opening up now meant being unable to turn the faucet: rivers of emotion flowed endlessly as Hwei poured out his heart. His love for art, his desire to paint, his responsibility as heir and what it really meant to carry this burden. His masters, his magic, how dangerous it was.

“Today I tried to tell them,” he said, “I tried to tell them I felt more in control, I felt I could really use it for good. I tried to show them, Jhin, that I could manage it, that it was a beautiful thing and, although dangerous, there was light in it, too,” his voice brightened as he spoke, making Jhin smile. 

There was a brief pause, and Hwei’s face darkened. Jhin’s smile disappeared. 

“You should have seen the way they looked at me,” Hwei continued, “I only… reached for my brush, and they looked so scared. As if I was about to show them a bomb! They were petrified. Scared of… me.” He sounded utterly defeated.

Hwei couldn’t really see it, staring at his hands on his lap, but something in Jhin’s gaze shifted. There was a new, powerful emotion within the red of his eyes: anger. 

“They’re not afraid of you, dear,” it was the first time Jhin had called him ‘dear’, making Hwei’s heart pound loud in his ears, “they’re afraid of not being able to control you.”

It was a jarring remark, switching the blame onto Hwei’s masters instead of Hwei himself, or his power. The painter had never seen it like that. He’d never focused on the control aspect of it, not because he couldn’t see it but because there was no point in doing so. Of course they wanted to control him, they wanted to control the danger his magic meant for both himself and everyone else.

But Jhin’s perspective made him reflect on it. Maybe there was some truth to that, seeing as none of his masters possessed a similar power. Maybe they were so scared because it was beyond them, way more than Hwei had ever considered.

It made him feel better to think he was not, at least not completely, the problem.

“Thank you,” Hwei whispered, smiling, “you know, you inspired me.”

Jhin’s eyes widened slightly. A subtle yet powerful movement, as if this statement was a complete surprise. 

“How so?” There was a nearly imperceptible amusement in his voice.

“Feel free to laugh, this is going to sound ridiculous,” Hwei said, “even though we’ve known each other for less than a day, talking to you is… it’s been inspiring. The way you speak, the way you carry yourself, the things you say… it’s all beautiful.”

“May I ask why?”

“Yes, you may,” Hwei laughed, “but I’m not sure I can answer, at least not right now. If we know each other better, I might have an answer in the future.” Or the courage to speak it, he added in his mind.

“What a tease you can be,” Jhin said, a small smirk on his lips.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Hwei replied. 

The atmosphere change finally settled in, leaving the painter overly conscious of how much he just shared, and how close they had been for the past hour or so. His relaxed senses could now perceive the light sound of their breaths, the contact of their knees and the faint smell of spicy chicken.

Hwei occupied his hands with tidying his already tidy clothes, forcing a neutral expression to the best of his ability. 

“Well,” Hwei began, “I’m sure you’re tired after such an…” his hands fell to his lap, clasped together, “evening,” a nervous laugh, “I’ll let you rest now.”

He stood, but Jhin didn’t. Instead, the man simply stared at him up and down. There was no malice or lust in his eyes, at least none that Hwei could see, there was simply wonder. He looked like a scientist facing his greatest problem, so much that Hwei could see the formulas and numbers going around in his brain, trying to figure out the key to solving this mystery.

After a while, Jhin opened his mouth. Nothing came out, and he shut it, smiling instead. Then, he stood as well.

“Yes, let’s rest, both of us.” 

There were still calculations swirling in those crimson eyes, however Hwei paid it no mind. 

Tiredness sank like an anchor over Hwei’s chest, eyelids suddenly heavy. “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said.

Jhin pressed a hand against Hwei’s lower back, conducting them out of the room. “You could simply say you want to know the location of my room,” he spoke as they stepped outside, just in time for Hwei to be outside of comfort and unable to properly clap back, “I don’t mind if you wish to sneak in.”

The painter’s face exploded red. “You,” he was, in truth, unable to properly clap back, “you.”

“Me,” Jhin laughed.

Overcoming the unscripted therapy session meant Jhin and Hwei’s bond deepened quickly. They shared many things after, from trivial nonsense to profound, philosophical thoughts. 

Two weeks went by in the blink of an eye. During that time, they developed a carefree routine: breakfast together when Hwei didn’t have early morning lectures or a pile of work to tackle before classes, then dinner together almost every day, late at night, when the cafeteria was almost empty and they talked to their heart's content over a warm meal.

Then there were the midnight rendezvous.

At the beginning they were innocent escapades. Silly, short meetings no longer than an hour and a half to talk mostly about art or Jhin’s travels. 

Slowly they grew intimate. At first they met either in Hwei's hideout or the garden behind the Temple. It was private, yes, but still in the realm of normality for two friends meeting below the moon.

One day Jhin suggested they meet in his room, and everything changed. 

Hwei would never forget that night.

Ever since the incident with Hwei’s masters, the painter had never once visited Jhin’s room, which also served as the perfect excuse for his quickened heartbeat. 

“Come in,” Jhin said. These past weeks Hwei learnt the other man had a tendency to command the room. If his imperative wording was conscious or not, Hwei still didn’t know.

The room was exactly as it would be when given to a new guest. There was neither mess, nor order. A neat travel bag on the table, four lotus flowers mid-paint and a now dry paint brush were the only indication someone stayed here.

“Even the bed is tidy…” Hwei wondered out loud. Little by little he saw Jhin’s precision in everything. The way he ate, the way he walked. He behaved as if he had carefully planned even the smallest breath. 

“My, my,” Jhin said, behind him. Hwei could hear the smirk in his voice, “already onto the bed. How shameless.” 

“What? No! I didn’t mean…” Hwei had no words. His face and his eyes were a bright, pinkish shade of red.

“No need to be embarrassed, I like when you’re assertive.” 

He what? He liked what?

“You know I did not mean it like that,” he said, “I’m just amazed by how organized you are.” Hwei let out a laugh, realizing he was expecting just this: perfect order. “Everything is so neatly placed… I should really learn from you.”

“Well, you actually live here, silly,” Jhin sat on the bed, facing Hwei. He crossed his left leg over his right. “And you certainly have a lot more going on, it’s natural there’s so little time left for organizing papers and scrolls.”

Hwei nodded in agreement, his face still a little pink. He sat next to the artist.

“You are far too kind,” he smiled.

“Maybe,” Jhin said, teasing. He allowed himself to recline, resting on his elbows. “Maybe I do have an ulterior motive, after all.”

Hwei rolled his eyes. Even if Jhin did have a selfish reason for his kindness, days had gone by without a single request. He kind of expected Jhin to demand something at this point.

“Hm? And what would that be?” 

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable confessing to the back of your head, dear,” Jhin said, “as pretty as it may be.” He patted the space on the bed next to him. 

Very commanding. Strangely sensual.

Unable to find the right words, if there were any ‘right’ words at all, Hwei simply obliged. He lay on his side, chin resting on his palm as he propped his elbow on the mattress to level his head with Jhin’s. He didn't speak. He raised a single eyebrow, instead. 

Jhin laughed before he spoke. 

“Come closer,” he whispered, voice suddenly husky, “I’m shy.”

The painter wasn’t oblivious to this new mood. He wasn’t blind, he wasn’t deaf. He was, however, not confident. He didn’t think he could awaken any such feelings in Jhin, or any man, for that matter. Hwei had forced himself to abandon the possibility. 

And yet, there Jhin was, ravishing him with his eyes, whispering to him as they lay together. It was too much to turn a blind eye. 

So, despite himself, Hwei’s cheeks flushed red. He swallowed as he inched closer. 

He was unsure of where to look. Jhin’s eyes were out of the question, staring at his nose was just weird, and fixating on his lips was way too dangerous. As were his neck, his exposed shoulders, his chest. Further down…

Nevermind. The eyes it is.

“Just talk,” Hwei said, softly.

“Hm…” Came the reply. 

Hwei became conscious of their closeness: just enough to see each other’s face, not enough to be within kissing distance. He could feel Jhin’s warm breath over his lips. 

“I’m listening,” Hwei insisted, slightly anxious. 

“I don’t know…” Jhin whispered back, “what if I tell you and you run away?”

“Is there something about your request that’ll make me want to run away?”

“No… I don’t think so, no,” Jhin’s tone was still highly suggestive, and now it was also sort of playful. “I think you might like it, but won’t be able to handle it.”

Hwei was about to reply when his elbow lost balance. He fell on top of Jhin, faces now within kissing distance. His bangs tickled the other man’s cheek. His free hand, instinctively looking for support, rested on Jhin’s chest.

Jhin looked very surprised, eyebrows arching upwards, although Hwei couldn’t see it from this distance.

A deep yet melodious chuckle rumbled against Hwei’s jaw. His entire body trembled in response. He felt everything. Every sensation engraved itself on his skin and his entire being begged for more, for Jhin to touch him, to tear him apart.

“Wait,” Hwei sighed, “Jhin…”

“Should I remain calm while you’re moaning my name like that?”

It would have been so simple. It would have been so, so fucking easy to just kiss him. Press their lips together with force and desire, while his hands felt every inch of skin he could reach. It would have been a delight.

But that didn’t happen. Something deep inside pulled Hwei back. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was embarrassment. His eyes couldn’t decide on a color. He felt dizzy.

“I should, I…” Hwei sat up, fixing his hair, “I should go.” 

Jhin said something in protest. Hwei couldn’t hear it, he moved automatically with only one goal: running away. 

Just like that, he left. 

Hwei didn’t remember if he closed the door to Jhin’s room, he didn’t remember if he saw anyone on the way, or the way itself to his room. He only remembered how the door to his own bedroom closed behind him and how he stood there for almost a full minute. In silence, completely still. His mind was both blank and a mess, his palms were sweaty. 

His dick was hard. 

He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He wanted to ignore it as much as he could, but it hurt. It demanded attention, release.

The feeling of Jhin under him lingered. He could see the man’s chest below his hand, he could feel Jhin’s laughter over his skin, that burning gaze over him, devouring him. His right hand held the door for support as his left unbuttoned his pants. How he wished the thud of the heavy fabric hitting the floor would have woken him. He wanted to stop, this wasn’t right. 

He wished he cared more about morals than handling the problem, figuratively and literally. 

After lowering his underwear enough for his dick to spring free, fully erect, he stroked its length, steadily. Imagines came unannounced in his mind, and as much as he wanted to do the right thing and take care of this without anything as ‘material’, there was one man starring every vision.

“Jhin…” He sighed against the door, “Jhin, please…”

He fondled himself sweetly at first. His rationality wanted this over as soon as humanly possible, his body wanted to enjoy each fantasy. He gave in without much resistance, feeling safe in his own room.

How would Jhin’s fingers touch him? How harsh, how soft? How kind, how rough? 

Those red eyes, Hwei could feel them over him, carefully analyzing how he stroked his dick, moaning loudly against the door. As sturdy as it was, if someone were to stand directly behind it they could easily hear him. 

The future master of the Koyehn temple, shaking his hips shamelessly while he called out for another man.

His hand quickened its pace, he felt it close. He moaned louder, unable to tell if whatever left his lips included Jhin’s name or not. He hoped not, because moaning felt amazing. When was the last time he’d done this? 

Loads of precum, running down his inner thighs, told him it had been too long. 

Sensations grew vivid as he imagined Jhin’s hands on his legs, up his hips, caressing his waist. He was so close.

“There, please, touch me there,” he was being too loud now, he couldn’t contain it- any of it. As he masturbated, the tip of his cock rubbed the lacquered wood. He could hear Jhin chuckling at his desperation, his hunger for a more intense pleasure.

“Jhin,” was the only word on his lips as he came, “Oh God, Jhin!” 

Thick semen stuck to the door where his dick touched it, dripping down slowly. Breathing with difficulty, Hwei pressed his forehead against the wood. 

Regret spread through his chest. Hwei closed his eyes shut, waiting for silence to reign once more. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he mumbled.

Jhin’s expression was unreadable. 

He was smirking, yet his eyes didn’t seem to smile along. His features looked particularly sharp under the dim moonlight seeping through the large windows of the hall. 

His back felt cold against the lacquered wood of Hwei’s door. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he heard the painter mumble behind it. 

A wonderful performance, Jhin thought. 

He didn’t make a sound as he walked away, back to his own room.

Chapter Text

Hwei was avoiding him. 

Jhin could tell, it wasn’t difficult to. 

What did, however, pique his curiosity was the reason. Why was he being avoided like a virus? 

Nearly twelve hours had passed, and he had a few hypotheses, all of them amusing. 

The first, and the least plausible, he thought, was that Hwei was so innocent he couldn’t face him directly. It sounded absurd. The painter was not only a man in his thirties, but lustful enough to masturbate to him. To moan his name unabashedly. No, “innocence” seemed unreasonable.

Perhaps… naivete. 

Now, there was a real possibility. Hwei was, in short, a virgin. A sweet, tender virgin. Thus, he had absolutely no clue how to handle the situation.

Jhin thought about it hard and reached the conclusion that as feasible as that was, it was equally conceivable Hwei was not a virgin at all. 

This led to another theory: Hwei was not into him, not really. He might have been caught in the moment, swayed by the mood, and acted upon it. Nothing more, nothing less. So, being the kind hearted soul he was, Hwei had no idea how to tell Jhin he wasn’t interested.

Displeasing, he thought. What an annoying idea.

It wasn’t about being charming (which he was), or being seductive (which he also was), none of those things was worth a single copper coin if there was no chemistry. 

And they were certainly not lacking chemistry.

From the first time they met, Jhin knew. He knew there was something inside Hwei that was desperate to come out, something beautiful that resonated with Jhin. Maybe the initial idea was to rip it out by force, maybe not, but after talking to him, after getting to know the painter-- the artist Hwei was, Jhin was certain.

He couldn't pull that “something” out. He had to guide Hwei so he could set it free himself. When Jhin thought of the fantastic spectacle that could be… he trembled with excitement.

Then came everything else.

Hwei’s reactions, his earnest self, his kindness, his playfulness, his sexiness. Everything was intriguing. Nonetheless, this was all on a superficial level. As pleasing to the eye as he was, it was a mere addition to the profound beauty of his mind. His thoughts were fascinating in their uniqueness, even when Jhin didn’t agree, he could see the passion behind every statement Hwei defended, he could see reason. All of this, mixed with that special ‘something’ buried deep inside, always peeking through those expressive eyes…

It was far too perfect to let go.

And the cherry on top, the last, crucial detail that made this all the more impossible to miss was as simple as it was delicious: he was the only one who could bring out that 'something'. 

No master, no witch, no artist-- nothing or nobody could do it, no one but him. 

Only he could lure “it” and create such perfect conditions in order to catalyze Hwei into freeing 'it' himself. No other mind would be able to do it, no other gifted brain could even see the buried treasure Hwei held.

His current situation, then, following this train of thought, was not ideal. Far from ideal.

He had to act. He had to get some time alone with Hwei and confirm the reason behind his behavior. 

If it was only caused by embarrassment or shame, fueled mainly by restrained desire, that would be the best scenario. He could work with that and even use it to his advantage.

However, if Hwei was indeed not interested in him… that could prove troublesome.

Plus it made him feel itchy.

An irrational response, yes, but for some reason the thought of Hwei not being interested in him made him feel a rash over his chest. He felt pathetic about it and knew himself well enough to comprehend he didn’t want to accept his own stupidity. 

He also understood he might like Hwei a lot more than he initially thought.

Jhin decided to give Hwei a full day. If his calculations were correct, Hwei would look for him in around 24 hours. 

Within this time he walked around the Temple, gathering information from the students and workers about life here. He wanted to get a feeling of what it’d be like to live as a local. Or, well… that’s how he started off. 

The thing is, Jhin had a secret plan. 

He needed to know about this Temple in favor of said secret plan.

For this mission, however, it was not in any way necessary to ask about Hwei.

“Do you like Master Hwei?” said Tao, grinning slyly.

There was absolutely no reason for him, a respected artist, a virtuoso if you must, to play around with such imprudent, foolish children. 

Yet here he was. Sitting next to the young student who was finishing a painting. They were in a large balcony area, a couple of alumni painting as well, but everyone was too far from each other to eavesdrop. 

“For the third time, my friend,” Jhin resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think your master would appreciate us discussing the matter without his consent.”

“So… that’s a no?” It was clear Tao was after one answer and one answer only. Everything else was carried by the soft summer breeze, lost in the immense, vibrant blue. 

Jhin took a deep breath. “If I say yes, would you just tell me what I wish to know?”

“I knew it!” The kid beamed, fist thrown victoriously in the air. 

“Yes, brilliant, fantastic, child,” Jhin mumbled, feeling he had earned the right to pinch his nose without seeming overly rude. “Now, speak.”

Tao wet his brush in light green paint. His eyes were glued to his canvas and, slowly, he puckered his lips. He was deep in thought for a moment before he began to paint.

Jhin waited patiently.

“Master Hwei is always, uh… kind of alone,” he said, carefully adding short streaks of paint to the background. “He keeps to himself a lot. It’s like he’s… he’s one person with us, and one person with his masters, and one person with himself. Like, when he’s in work mode he gets super serious and always gives two hundred percent!”

The virtuoso nodded, attentive. “Always?”

“Always. He loves this Temple, he loves what it means. A safe space for art, a safe space for artists. He is very proud of it, too. I think the only reason he doesn’t brag about it is because there’s nobody to brag to,” Tao laughed. His laugh was warm, full of respect and admiration. It came off as sweet. Everything he had said about Hwei came off as sweet, in fact. Maybe also a bit worried.

“I’m somebody. And he does talk about this place with… heart, passion.”

“Yeah! That. Passion,” the boy agreed. “I’ve never met anyone more passionate about art than master Hwei,” he bobbed his head, trying to emphasize the sentiment, “it’s like he sees the world through different eyes, you know?”

“Hm,” Jhin’s mood had improved greatly since Tao began talking. “I understand. I understand very, very well, dear Tao.”

He was about to pat Tao’s head when a rough hand grabbed him by the wrist. His first instinct was to pull out a knife. Of course, he didn’t pull out anything. He didn’t even have a knife at hand. 

He did, however, show an expression of pure surprise.

“Hands off, outsider.”

Fan’s harsh tone disrupted all lightheartedness of the moment. Her features were muddy with distrust, suspicion. She was ready to throw him his bags and never allow him to return to Koyehn. 

Clever girl, thought Jhin. He was about to defend himself when Tao cut in.

“Stop it, Fan,” he pulled them apart, holding the hand she just used, as if to make sure it stayed put. “Jhin’s a friend! He likes master Hwei〜” he cheerfully sang this last sentence with gusto. “So, of course, he was smart enough to ask master Hwei’s best disciple.”

Fan’s gaze never left Jhin. Although the virtuoso could feel her eyes drilling holes into his skull, he remained calm and collected while smiling at Tao with amusement.

“And did you help him?” The question was directed at Tao, but she was still facing Jhin.

“Yeah,” replied the boy.

“Then he can leave.”

Jhin knew better than to fight a kid in front of another kid, and kids who were important to Hwei at that, so he simply stood. Without any resistance, but also without any disrespect, he bowed his head at the girl. 

“I apologize if I was out of place,” he said, gaze cast downwards, “I’ll leave.” He turned to the boy and softened his smile. “Thank you, everything you’ve told me was really helpful.”

Tao winked, giving him a thumbs up. 

The contrast between his encouraging gesture and Fan’s deadly stare was almost laughable. Jhin still said his goodbyes to her before departing.

In the privacy of his room the kind smile on his lips was broken apart by a nasty scowl. He was not done, he was most definitely NOT done with his questioning of the boy when that nasty youngun interrupted them. There was still so much precious information that…

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Precious?

Precious information? Since when was this “precious information”? He was supposed to be getting information on the Temple, not on Hwei’s devotion to art!

Jhin sat on the bed, hand clasped to his jaw in deep thought. His brows were furrowed tightly and his left foot tapped rhythmically. 

1, 2, 3, 4, and 1, 2, 3, 4.

He tapped four rounds of four, stepping furiously at the last four. 

Enough. So what? So what if Hwei was avoiding him? So what if Hwei didn’t want him in the end? What did it matter?

Meeting Hwei was already a detour from his initial goal, a distraction. What did it matter if things turned sour? This wouldn’t change anything at all. This was, in the grand scheme of the universe, pointless. Useless. Meaningless. The more he got entangled with Hwei the harder carrying out his plan would be, so wasn’t it better if they parted? 

Feeling exhausted, Jhin ran a hand through his hair. 

It was now eleven or so, the sun bright and warm. It was particularly warm today, too, so Jhin’s hair, usually neatly slicked back, was falling in some places. Deep black strands fell over his sharp face. It made him look, in short, very sexy.

A cold droplet of sweat sliding down his cheekbone made him think of Hwei. How did he look right now? Did he wake up covered in sweat? Did he sleep with minimal clothing? Perhaps none at all?

He was about to take off his top, yearning for a cold shower, when someone knocked on the door.

Jhin organized his clothes and attempted (unsuccessfully) to fix his hair before opening it.

“Yes? How may I…”

“Jhin!” Hwei cut him off. 

The painter’s pale face suddenly turned pinkish when their eyes met. Jhin loved that peach wine shade his eyes took when he became shy. It was endearing. What other colors were there?

And wasn’t he glad they parted ways?

“Hwei…” Jhin said, after a moment of silence. He was at a loss of words, unable to put together a single coherent thought. He was glad, he needed to focus on his mission, yet he couldn’t stop staring at that long, exposed neck demanding his attention.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t look for you after I left like that, it was rude of me.” 

“What?”

Now he was truly rendered speechless. That single, simple sentence felt like a slap. It meant it was all him.

He thought too much of it, he was painting the situation with the brightest colors only to find Hwei was on a different wavelength altogether. 

Of course. It made sense. To Hwei, nothing had happened. Jhin had never known of his physical reaction, much less his sinful act, so there was no need to be ashamed.

“Yes, I… I kind of panicked, even when nothing really happened,” Hwei let out a nervous laugh, “I got scared, thinking I might’ve scared you or something, it was… Stupid of me.”

Jhin saw through him as if Hwei was made of glass.

The shyness, the repressed desire, the fear, the fondness. His gaze was piercing, still trying to figure this man out. He thought he understood him, and to some extent he did, but Hwei had acted in a way he wasn’t cunning enough to foresee. 

Realizing he understood less than he thought tasted sour. Felt foreign.

Ironically, it also felt incredibly thrilling.

He smirked. “Did you, now? What would I be scared of?” 

“I can be pretty scary, too…” came the unexpected response. Another unexpected response. Hwei’s expression darkened, and his smile stiffened. It wasn’t just a joke, or a threat.

It was that "something".

Oh, how he wanted to hold that waist and grab that face and kiss those lips and to see how much of a mess Hwei became. He wanted to run his hands along that porcelain skin, press hard against it to mark it as his own, watch it bloom red under his bite. Feel him squirm under his touch, under him. He wanted to—

“Jhin?” Hwei said, his face now showing concern. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. A normal, everyday gesture that now seemed awfully lustful to Jhin. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Jhin said, running a hand through his hair again, oblivious to the effect it had on the other man, “yes, everything is okay.”

Except it wasn’t.

Except he was now conscious of how deep this infatuation really went, of how much he wanted to transform Hwei’s world, fuck his brains out, devour him whole. He now knew the depths of his desire.

And he couldn’t act upon it at all. Not yet.

Not for a while.

It wasn’t, however, due to lack of desire.

Sitting on his bed, Jhin reflected on the past couple of days. Three, to be precise. 

Hwei seemed to act… kinder towards Jhin. Softer, even. His voice was subdued, his shoulders were warm to the touch, skin pinkish. He was his usual aloof self with a touch of sensuality. 

Yes, that’s right. Sensuality. 

Amidst late night dinners and midnight walks, Jhin could feel the painter’s eyes over him, woven with admiration, affection. He could feel Hwei’s body grow closer by the hour, realizing at the end of the chilly summer night they were so close he could see their white puffs of breaths collide. Having to pull away was painful, the breeze feeling especially cold once apart.

Jhin found goodbyes to be the most embarrassing part of the evening. He could easily see through Hwei, see how much he yearned to stay by his side and how much he himself started to wish for longer nights as well.

It was all a complete surprise. A nice one, if we’re being honest, since Jhin could feel his insides melt everytime he was admired like a masterpiece. His heart welcomed this affection despite his mind’s efforts to ignore it.

Still, a surprise nonetheless. 

The virtuoso expected Hwei to, quite frankly, be scared of him. Not of him per se, but of the lust he awoke in Hwei as a man: Jhin figured these emotions must be in some way infuriating for Hwei, being so restrained he was perhaps unable to act upon them freely.

But no. Hwei was, if anything, more infatuated with him now.

How so many surprises were behind that tender smile was beyond Jhin at this point. So, unable to comprehend his little friend, our virtuoso thought he should just enjoy this.

This relationship they shared, which at times felt secret (adding to the thrill), Jhin slowly gave into it. He let himself be swayed by Hwei’s warmth.

He thought it’d be harmless, yet only after a couple of days his body craved more. 

See, it was all nice and lovely but it was also sweet. Sickeningly sweet. And there was nothing wrong with sickeningly sweet when that was the intention. Jhin knew better. Between them there was something else, something beyond “sweetness” and more akin to “desire”.

It was like trying to watch a film with slightly fogged glasses. You could see it, perhaps even enjoy it, but the frustration of knowing there is something else waiting for you behind the glass was too great. At least for Jhin.

If only he hadn’t listened that night, if only he didn’t know the extent of Hwei’s perverted desires. Maybe then he wouldn’t be chased by lustful ideas.

Because he was. Very much so.

Every time their fingers touched, every time their faces were within kissing distance, every time their eyes, glossy and wanton, met, the need to capture those pale lips made his gut clench. 

Jhin realized too late he had made a grave oversight. His fondness towards Hwei deepened considerably these past few days, but so had his desire. He had been neglecting this part of himself too much, and now it was nearly impossible to shut down the fantasy of carving his mark on Hwei’s skin.

No, not only his skin, his mind. Jhin wanted both to consume him and to make him into something greater, he wanted both to restrain him and to set him free.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Thank God. He had no business exploring this part of his mind in the late afternoon.

He opened with a smile. As soon as he saw who it was, however, his eyebrow twitched. Lately, nothing was going as planned.

“Jhin,” Hwei smiled back, a tender expression full of affection shining over Jhin’s soul in places he had deemed unreachable. It lighted up Hwei’s entire face, making the slight redness of his cheeks appear delicious. “My lectures finished early today. Would you like to go for a walk?”

“I’d love to, dear.”

“Ah, but,” Hwei said, “I need to leave these at my room.”

He was carrying a bunch of scrolls, which Jhin gladly helped with. They were heavy and kind of cool to the touch. Probably calligraphy, or paintings. 

“Were you studying these?” Jhin asked, curious.

“Yes! My masters…” He trailed off, eyelashes lowering slightly. From his voice, however, Jhin caught a hint of nervousness. “Something my masters requested, it’s nothing important.”

“Something secret, perhaps? Banned from the eyes of outsiders?” Jhin’s tone was light, aiming for a joke more than a serious demand. 

It worked. Hwei laughed, shoulders relaxing. “No! Don’t be silly,” he giggled again at the idea of secret scrolls banned from outsiders, finding it hilarious. “I can show you once we get to my room.”

“Perfect.”

They reached a familiar lacquered wood door. Hwei opened. It wasn’t locked. 

“Sorry for the mess… as usual.” He laughed awkwardly, letting Jhin inside and closing the door behind them.

To be fair, the mess wasn’t that bad. It was just as Jhin remembered from his first and only time here. They hadn't come back to either of their rooms, mostly because neither suggested it. 

For Jhin it was simple, visiting Hwei's room was too dangerous. His mind, high off desire and affection, might betray his body into an unwanted reaction. But Hwei’s motives remained a mystery to Jhin, who could only spiral further into insanity trying to figure the painter out.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he replied, “where should I leave these?”

Hwei gestured to his desk. The only truly organized spot in the entire room was covered once again, ironically restoring harmony. 

“You can of course look, um,” Hwei’s fingers caressed the paper, and although his lips were tightly pressed together his eyes smiled. “These are some of our ancestor’s works. I’ve, well, I’ve been asked to study them… again…” He whispered that last “again,” almost like a sigh.

Through their time together Jhin learnt a few things about these so-called “masters.” They were strict. They were scared of not controlling Hwei. They were probably some real bastards, too. 

He’d also learnt to not ask too much. When confronted with questions about his masters, Hwei was quick to hide behind his shell. One time Jhin pried: Hwei tensed, his expression darkened in a way Jhin had never seen before. It was difficult to recover from that.

Ergo, no questions were asked about these phonies. 

“Do you not enjoy studying these pieces?” Jhin asked instead, carefully rolling one scroll open.

“Um, no, that’s not it, no… I love them…” Hwei said. The virtuoso couldn’t decide if it sounded more like a question or like a lie.

Once open, a beautiful, yet carefully planned painting was revealed. Jhin didn’t particularly like this feeling. In his opinion it wasn’t that good. But he didn’t want to disrespect Hwei’s ancestors, so he forced a smile.

Hwei laughed. “You hate it.” 

“No I don’t. It’s stunning.”

Another laugh. “I didn’t know you were this bad at lying!” 

“It’s gorgeous, Hwei.” He rolled the scroll shut. “Maybe not for me, though.” 

Hwei’s lips relaxed into a soft smile. He didn’t laugh this time. Instead, he graced the scrolls once again. There was a slight sadness in his demeanor.

“I…” He began. It took some time for him to speak, as if he couldn’t think of the right words. “I understand. I love them! I, I really do. I think they’re gorgeous pieces with a rich history, and I feel inspired simply by looking at them, but…”

When he didn’t continue, even after a moment of silence, Jhin spoke.

“But?” He left the scroll on the table to take Hwei’s hand on his own. “You can tell me, I promise not to laugh,” he said.

Hwei’s eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to not meet Jhin’s gaze. “I don’t think you’d laugh… In fact, it’s not about you.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. “I just… think there’s something missing. I don’t wanna say ‘lacking,’ of course, these are masterpieces! But I, I really don’t…know what it is, I just feel there’s something…” as he rambled on, Hwei’s voice lowered until it was nothing but a terrified whisper. “I just feel there’s something wrong with it.”

“Like it could be better,” Jhin said, unconsciously matching Hwei’s whispers.

The painter was horrified, eyes wide open. “No! I… Yes, maybe? I don’t know.” He tried to relax his face as best as he could. “The first time I studied them, I told my masters how I felt there was something trapped in them… It wasn’t the correct answer.”

“It’s art, there is no correct answer,” Jhin’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“There sometimes is, Jhin, sometimes it’s better to just obey instead of giving into raw emotion.”

“Well, I disagree.” He huffed.

“I know you do,” Hwei sighed, “but that’s how it is. It was wrong of me to bring it up… I don’t even know what it is.”

“I think… you already know, Hwei.” Jhin’s hands moved, gracefully, up Hwei’s forearms, caressing his skin with special tenderness. “The answer is inside you.”

Hwei didn’t pull away. He didn’t look scared anymore, either. “Looking inside oneself… is dangerous.” He whispered.

Jhin pulled him in, slowly. When their faces were close and their bodies even more, Jhin’s hands traveled south, resting on Hwei’s waist in an intimate embrace. 

“It doesn’t have to be.”

On a different occasion, Jhin’s hands would’ve stayed put. They’ve shared a couple of embraces like this, but it was always the end of the interaction. 

This time it was only the start. 

Jhin’s fingers ran along Hwei’s lower back. He could feel his skin yearn for more closeness, more contact. Not only his own but Hwei’s too. Jhin could feel him tremble below his fingertips, muscles reacting under his touch. 

Not a single word was spoken in those delicious moments Jhin felt his way around Hwei’s waist, lower back, hips, tracing the outline of his body with desire, relishing every sensation. The feeling of fabric against skin against fabric was particularly intoxicating, and the warmth of their breaths against each other’s lips was exhilarating. 

“Jhin, wait…” Hwei whispered, “wait, please– we…” 

Gazes met. Deep red eyes met a now rich burgundy pair.

“So that’s the color you make when you’re aroused,” he said. It came out kind of like a laugh. A deep, husky laugh. “That's my favorite so far.”

Jhin grabbed Hwei’s face with one hand, the other holding him in place with a firm grip of his waist. The sudden roughness would have been out of place if not for Hwei’s response. Those thin, pale lips parted slightly, welcoming, and let out a rough moan. 

It was small, a spark, yet the fire it produced in Jhin was immense. His body moved on its own and before he knew it he was kissing Hwei’s exposed neck. Kissing, licking, biting. He was dancing over the delicate line between passion and insatiable lust.

Hwei’s sounds echoed louder in the room. It wasn’t audible outside, was it? The door was closed, and they weren’t next to it.

Outside. They were in his room, and it wasn’t even five thirty yet. Doing something so shameless with the sun still out, even if sunset was near…

The painter, stricken by the shame of realization, tried to push Jhin away. He freed himself, or rather, Jhin allowed him to, and turned around. Hwei tried to focus his eyes on his desk, on the scrolls, on anything other than the growing sensation on his crotch, spreading down to his inner thighs.

“I… don’t think we should be doing this, the sun is still out.” Hwei said. 

“Shall we continue at night, then?” came Jhin’s rebuttal, voice teasingly joyful.

Hwei bit back a bittersweet laugh, what was he doing? Seriously, what was he doing? What was he about to allow? 

“I don’t know… I’ve never been…” Hwei trailed off.

“Desired? Chased?” Jhin said.

“Greedy.”

The virtuoso’s eyebrows shot upwards, and his lips curved into a tiny smirk. “How so?”

“...When I’m with you, Jhin, I become… something I don’t recognize. Or maybe I do,” a short laugh, “maybe I do, I don’t know… Either way, it’s terrifying.” 

Strong, rough yet delicate hands were placed over Hwei’s shoulders. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jhin repeated, “just show me… show me everything. That something you speak of, buried deep and held in chains, which you find so horrifying…” He enveloped Hwei in a loose embrace from behind, focusing his hands on the painter’s chest. “I find it beautiful.”

Before Hwei could respond, Jhin’s hands moved swiftly. He explored the other’s chest with gusto, taking his time to pinpoint the best spots, to learn what Hwei enjoyed most. 

“Why are you doing this...?” Hwei’s voice was laced with nothing but lust. “Why me?” 

“You’re an artist, Hwei, you know better than to ask why…” Jhin whispered, “but…” His hands suddenly stopped. Hwei caught himself before a whimper escaped his lips. “I’ll indulge you so with reasoning… Although it’s nothing you don’t already know.” 

Nothing Hwei didn’t know? Right now all Hwei could think of was that if the answers were indeed inside him all along, he wanted Jhin to force them out. He wanted to be stripped down to his core, to only face the darkness lurking beneath his soul with Jhin’s voice reassuring him it could still be beautiful.

“You… are my masterpiece.”

Every sensation multiplied. The feeling of Jhin’s chest on his back, his fingers pressing against the fabric, Jhin’s breath over his ear, the trembling of his own body. It all became so intense, so real.

“Maybe not today, no…” Jhin’s hands resumed their work. “You and I know there’s still something deep inside you holding you down. You’re still… bound, Hwei. So, one day in the future, I’ll make sure you are my magnum opus.”

Jhin’s touch became more passionate, Hwei became more honest. 

“I…” Hwei’s voice had turned mellow, like snow melting under sunlight. He pressed his lips and chose to nod instead. What else was there to say? Yes. He wanted this, he wanted this man, his everything.

He welcomed all of it, and Jhin could tell. His hands started edging Hwei’s hips, his own pelvis pressing harder from behind. There was no shame in making Hwei feel his half erection, the painter was half hard himself.

“Just let go, forget the cage for a moment… and focus on me.”

And Hwei did. So much his knees nearly gave out. The feeling of Jhin’s lips and teeth over his neck sent waves of electricity through his body, and his vision began to blur. Everything became a haze, a blissful fantasy.

Jhin’s now fully erect cock was rubbing against him from behind. He could feel it pulsating with need, almost making Hwei forget his own erection.

Hwei turned his head to the side, looking for Jhin. His hand found its way to the virtuoso’s hair, tangling itself in it. 

“Jhin… Jhin, please,” between frantic, erratic movements there was one thing that would not leave Hwei’s mind. “Please…”

He figured Jhin knew exactly what it was. He was simply too much of a tease to give it up so easily. 

“Tell me, sweet lotus,” he whispered to Hwei’s ear, “what is it?”

“I want…” Words caught up in Hwei’s throat. He didn’t know why the sudden embarrassment, considering they had been pressing their bodies together in intimate motions for a while now, but alas, he couldn’t just say the words. 

“You want?”

“You know what I want…”

“I’ve come to realize, as much as it pains me, I don’t really know anything about you.”

Jhin’s hands finally pushed inside the elastic of Hwei’s pants, brushing against his bulge. Out of pleasure and surprise, Hwei let out an embarrassingly sweet moan. 

Hwei attempted to plead once more, but words came out as unrecognizable sounds. He bit his lip trying to prevent any more.

“Don’t,” said Jhin, “don’t hold back… Let me hear it all.”

“But…” When Hwei felt Jhin’s finger slide past the elastic of his underwear, his eyes shut tightly, words leaving his mouth without thinking. “But you haven’t kissed me… yet…”

He expected Jhin to laugh. It never came. 

Instead, Jhin turned him around and impulsively pushed some scrolls to the side, making a few of them fall to the floor. He lifted the painter to sit him on the edge of the desk. There was no time to think about some mediocre, century old painting, Jhin thought.  

“That won’t do…” He whispered, lips mere centimeters away from the other’s.

Jhin guided Hwei’s arms around his neck and pressed forward, bodies locking like puzzle pieces. The sudden touch of their erect cocks, even through layers of fabric (or maybe in addition to the restrain of the fabric) made them both react. 

Hwei didn’t register his own moan because, for the first time, he heard Jhin’s. It was insanely arousing. He inched his face closer, gaze fixed on Jhin’s slightly open mouth. They were drawn to each other like magnets, unable to stop the force pulling them together. Not that any of them wanted to stop it.

Their lips were so close they touched, making Hwei whine into Jhin’s mouth. 

One movement… that’s all it would’ve taken.

Would’ve.

The knock on the door came like a scratching record. 

“Master Hwei?” An unknown muffled voice spoke behind the door. “I’m really sorry to bother you, it’s important, I promise.”

The shock and urgency of the situation prevented Hwei from seeing the fleeting murderous intent in Jhin’s eyes. Frantic, the painter pushed Jhin away. The man wouldn’t have moved an inch but he decided to step aside anyway. 

Hwei stood on his feet and cleared his throat before speaking, hoping he’d sound convincing enough. 

“Yes, uh, yes! What is it?” His trembling fingers couldn’t properly hold the clothing he was so desperately trying to straighten.

“Um, Master Quan is requesting your presence.” 

Color drained from Hwei’s face, expression turning sour. All warmth was suddenly replaced with a harsh, sharp coldness. 

“I, uh…” He mumbled, unable to think. “I’m not… I…”

“...Forgive me if I’m overstepping, master, but if you’re not feeling okay I can tell him you’ll go later.” 

“No!” Hwei said, or rather, shouted. He swallowed dryly before clearing his throat again. “No, I’m sorry, there’s no need. I’ll be there in about ten minutes, thank you.”

Hwei waited for the mysterious messenger to walk away before letting his breath out. Had he been holding it? 

He turned around. The mood was, of course, completely shattered. Hwei failed to notice Jhin’s erection was still standing strong as he hurried to pick up the scrolls on the floor. Neither said anything. 

After organizing the art pieces, Hwei spoke. “I must go,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I, um, feel free to stay here or, maybe! If you want…” He was visibly looking for the right words, but were there any? Was there anything at all that could salvage this?

“Nothing to worry about,” Jhin said, a small smile over his lips. His tone was kind. “I understand. If it’s okay, I’ll stay here a moment while this, you know,” he gestured downwards, “calms down.” He chuckled.

Hwei’s face couldn’t decide on an emotion. His eyes were a swirling mess of burgundy and gold and yellow and black.

“Right, I’m sorry, I… Right.” Hwei stuttered poorly before sealing his lips shut, forcing a smile, and walking away.

He fixed his clothes and his hair before walking out, forgetting to close the door behind him even with an aroused man next to his desk. It was almost laughable.

Almost.

Jhin closed the door and sat on the bed. His dick hurt. 

“No,” he whispered to himself, “this definitely won’t do.”

Chapter Text

Jhin thought about Hwei.

He thought about his skin, pale, soft. The perfect canvas. He imagined his fingers tracing it, tracing the delicate relief of his bones. His hips, he noticed, were particularly prominent, as his stomach was rather flat. He also noticed a slight showing of the ribcage. And those collarbones. Oh, those delicious, seductive collarbones that just screamed ‘devour me, Jhin, bite me as hard as you can’. How he wanted to paint him red all over.

He thought about Hwei’s hair. Its darkness and contrast to his skin, how it framed his face and made him look smaller than he actually was. He imagined Hwei with his hair fully down. He realized he had never seen that… What a nice sight it must be. Jhin imagined it vividly, how it would feel to run his hand through it, how due to sweat it would stick to Hwei’s back, how it would stick to his cheeks, even as he rode his cock with enthusiasm. 

He thought about Hwei’s thighs. He could feel them wrap around his own waist, locking him in place. He could feel them on either side of his head, squishing shyly. Or perhaps he would press hard? Perhaps Hwei would like to clasp his legs and asphyxiate Jhin with his tender thighs. Maybe he secretly wanted to sit on Jhin’s face, suffocate him sensually. He could picture that. That would be a most fantastic pose, actually, since he could easily dig his fingers on his thighs while Hwei rode his face. 

He thought about Hwei’s lips. He just wanted to kiss him. Deeply. Explore his mouth, inside out.

But you haven’t kissed me yet. That sentence replayed inside his mind over and over. Hwei wanted to be kissed, he wanted it badly. Maybe just as much as Jhin wanted it. 

All of these images swirled around his brain as he stroked his cock. His hand moved rapidly, then slowed down, then fast again. He denied himself the orgasm his body so desired because he just didn’t want to stop. 

The pleasure was intense when combined with Hwei’s imagery. 

Too intense. Like never before.

Jhin was not a stranger to pleasure. It was natural, physical. It was a real damn useful tool, too. He knew how to use it to his advantage, he knew how to take care of himself, he knew how to make the most of sex. But it was always under his control.

Hwei, and everything around him, seemed to escape his control. This pleasure was no exception. 

He ran his hand along his shaft and teased the tip, grunting, moaning, sighing. The smell on Hwei’s bed was exhilarating. The painter always smelled like, well, paint. Paint and a faint scent of lavender. 

Why was the idea of him so fucking arousing? Whether it was Hwei under him, on top of him, crying out in bliss or smirking slyly-- everything, every goddamn fantasy was more exciting than the last. 

His free hand grasped the bedsheet, imagining it was Hwei’s hair. He could see those lips parting involuntarily when he pulled his hair, his skin begging to be sullied. His pace quickened, his back arching slightly and head tilting back in ecstasy. 

Feeling his orgasm close, again, he stopped. It hurt, but it was so fucking delicious. He imagined Hwei doing it, delicate hands stopping, expression playful and incongruously innocent. 

Jhin got on the bed on all fours and grabbed a pillow. It was rather large and incredibly soft, probably the best of the best within the temple for the young master. He rubbed his cock against it. Hard. 

Precum was already dripping onto the fabric of the pillowcase. White like Hwei’s skin. He could see so vividly how that beautiful face would be covered in his cum. How Hwei looked up at his erection with awe and admiration, the same he’d shown these past couple of days.

His hips thrusted violently as he timed them with the strokes of his hand, once again riding the high. This time he would allow himself to cum.

He pressed down his whole body and bit the pillow as he would Hwei’s neck. Pleasure built up. 

His entire body tensed in welcoming of that sweet, sweet release and he finally came all over Hwei’s pillow. The smell of paint and lavender mixed with Jhin’s own sweat and semen. When he closed his eyes, moaning, covering white fabric with his seed, there was only one image on his mind.

A pair of stunning burgundy eyes watching him with desire.

“Hey, Fan…” Hwei asked. He was in a dream-like state, unfocused. 

Fan didn’t like this. She knew it had something to do with the stranger, and he reeked of bad news. She should have switched cleaning duty with Tao, but was left with no choice after Hwei’s talk with the great masters.

“What is it?” 

She took a box in her hands and started storing away art supplies. The lecture hall they were in was rather large, so she worked swiftly hoping to avoid listening to her master gush about the stranger Mr. Fuckface.

“You know how my eyes change color, right?” On the other hand, Hwei was moving like a turtle. He took his sweet time staring at a brush before carefully placing it inside his box.

Fran almost groaned. “Mhm, what about it?”

Hwei’s hands stopped altogether. His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought.

“What colors have you seen?”

Fan was speechless. 

“What?”

“Like, what colors do you remember? On my eyes?” He gestured to his own face, which made the girl growl in anger. He failed to notice. “Have you seen them blue? Green? Yellow?”

She bit back a rude “how the fuck would I know?” and opted for a more peaceful sigh. “Master, listen, I… don’t really know. I don’t pay much attention to that.” 

“Try, please,” Hwei begged, hands clasping together in prayer. “I must know.”

“Why does it…” She sighed again. Thinking it through, she didn’t want to know. The faster she gave an answer the faster she could avoid anything related to the ugly intruder. “I don’t know, pink? Sometimes, when you get embarrassed, and, uh, green, when you’re like, super happy. I don’t remember any blue.” 

Hwei nodded. “I see, I see,” he mumbled, finally resuming his work. One brush at a time. “Thank you, Fan.”

“Master, with all due respect,” she may regret asking later but right now the question was painfully jarring. “In all these years you’ve never realized what color goes with what emotion?”

Hwei laughed. A genuine, soft laugh. 

Ever since he could remember being aware of this magical anomaly he had tried to control it. He could, if he really focused, but later in life he realized there was no need. He had no particular reason to lie, he had no desire to do so. Instead, he learnt what colors he was able to convey.

“I thought I knew.” He confessed.

And it wasn’t a lie. He thought he knew himself. The times when he was happy, elated. The times he was sad. The times he was scared. The times he had felt desire, and pleasure. He had come to know them all.

Or so he thought. 

Jhin. 

Khada Jhin made it all different. 

It was terrifying beyond measure to know a lust so great laid inside himself. Worse even, that this was only the surface. Lust, or whatever… It was scary, yet normal. He liked Jhin, physically, emotionally. Intellectually. He liked him, he wanted him. 

It would’ve been perfect if that was all he awakened in Hwei. 

The real scary part, the real horror was knowing there was more. A darkness unlike any other he had graced before.

Selfishness. Wanting to leave everything behind. Hatred. Hating this place, hating his masters. Cruelty. What could he be capable of, if set free? Questions he had never dared to ask before in his life suddenly appeared in his mind, all because one man seemed to see behind his facade. 

Hwei took a deep breath and ran both hands through his hair, accidentally getting some green paint on it. Once again, he failed to notice.

Fan spoke. “Well, you sometimes say people never stop changing. Must apply to you, too.” 

Her words cut deep. Change wasn’t bad, it was a natural progression. But was this “change”? Or had it been there since God knows when, dormant? 

“Yes,” he forced a smile, “you’re right.” 

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just tired, is all. I got curious about this because someone recently said my eyes were blue.” He figured lying was for the best, everyone within a 2 mile radius knew how much the girl hated Jhin. He wouldn’t mention him.

Fan was smart, but she was also awfully fond of Hwei. She believed him immediately, eyebrows relaxing. 

“Ah,” she said, “yeah, that’s very weird.”

Hwei didn’t see Jhin for hours. 

The meeting with the great masters left him with a rancid aftertaste, and although cleaning duty with Fan had been calming, it was no cure for his heartache. 

He longed, now more  than ever, for freedom. Not even permanent, life-long freedom. Just freedom for this summer.

And even though there were plenty of personal reasons, the main cause of his “sudden” affliction had a face and a name.

A face he couldn’t stop picturing.

Hwei wanted so badly to materialize his feelings, to capture the essence of the man who awoke so much in him he didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t just want to paint Jhin, he wanted to paint what was born between them, what the man inspired in Hwei and the endless possibilities of this summer fling.

Of course, he couldn’t do any of that.

It was now almost eight at night, and he was painting, yes, but nothing he actually wanted to paint. Not in the way he wanted to paint. 

So he worked without focus. Harsh, disorganized lines of green were slowly covering a white canvas half a meter taller and wider than his body. He was deeply frustrated. He had been devoted to the Temple his whole life, and would inherit it when the time came, making it his entire existence. 

Why, then, was he not allowed a period of leisure?

Were a mere three months of exploring attraction not insignificant when compared to a lifetime of responsibility? 

Hwei knew thinking about this was not only pointless but exhausting, yet he found it impossible to stop the anger pouring from his chest… and onto the canvas. 

Before he could even consider the consequences, he shoved his hands into the cans of paint by his side. He felt the cold liquid splash around, over his clothes, over the floor. He didn’t care. He didn’t even feel it was cold. 

Fingers tightly clenched into fists, he grabbed as much paint as he could possibly manage and smeared it on the canvas. Raw dashes or red and orange mixed, creating new shades and colors all around. He painted with his hands, putting so much force into it the fabric bent.

Then he added brown, rich chocolate brown. A spark of yellow next, making sure to mix it with the orange and get the most beautiful hue. His nails scratched the canvas, giving the heavy coat of paint unique markings in some places.

He just let go of his anger. He just felt through the art.

Like Jhin once spoke of.

Feeling it in your bones, your art. Your art. Hwei’s. Nobody else’s.

Not what his masters wanted him to paint, not what his students wanted to learn, not what commonfolk enjoyed to look at. Not what the world expected of the heir of Koyehn Temple.

His body moved with ease. The exposed muscles on his shoulders almost seemed to spasm from the frenetic painting. The texture of paint, the coolness of wet paint over drying paint. Exhilaration filled his lungs, making the air taste new, crisp, fresh.

He didn’t realize he was smiling, showing his teeth in a beautifully twisted grin.

Once Hwei was content with his work, he stepped back to admire it. He didn’t care about the bit of orange paint on his left cheek, or the mess on the floor. He couldn’t care less about his now dirty clothes, as he was cleaning the paint off his deep purple hands with it. 

He didn’t care about anything other than breathing in every millisecond of this private liberation.

The entire canvas was filled with an explosion of color. 

Dark brown covered the background in a more undisturbed manner. That was the beginning, when he only smeared the paint evenly to cover whatever it was he was painting before. Then, slowly, the splashes became more and more dramatic. Red, orange, yellow. Dashes and fingerprints in bizarre forms created a spectacle of color that resembled a blooming firework.

And at its center, the shadow of a burgundy lotus flower with a golden center. It wasn’t explicit, one couldn’t really tell that’s what it was supposed to be as it was a mix of abstractionism and impressionism. But it was there. At the very heart of the piece.

The comfortable silence was torn apart by a quiet gasp.

From the door, a few meters behind Hwei, Jhin stood in astonishment. Their eyes met and they just knew they were thinking the same.

They could feel the other’s thoughts. They could feel the other’s desire.

And now there was nothing stopping it.

Jhin ran, long legs taking him to Hwei in a matter of seconds. His arms wrapped around the painter with force as he pulled him close and claimed his lips with passion. Hwei hugged the virtuoso’s neck. He almost jumped, making Jhin laugh inside the kiss.

They kissed.

Oh, they kissed, and they kissed. And they kissed. They finally kissed.

Hwei’s stained fingers tangled in Jhin’s hair, loose strands falling over his forehead. He didn’t mind the paint, just like Hwei didn’t mind the roughness of his grip. Jhin’s hands held Hwei’s hips in place, pressing lightly over his clothes to feel his bones. 

“Did you paint this?” Jhin asked, breathless, between long kisses. 

It was an obvious answer, but he didn’t ask because he didn’t know. He asked because he loved it. He loved every inch of it and wanted Hwei to say out loud he created it himself.

He was so turned on.

They both were.

“Yeah…” Hwei nodded. His eyes were fixated on Jhin’s lips through his eyelashes, thumbs caressing his strong cheekbones, smudging a bit of purple. They were so close their lips touched as he spoke, hot, steamy breaths falling into Jhin’s mouth. “Yeah, I did, inspired by you.”

“Say it again.” Jhin commanded, heartbeat accelerating.

“I was inspired by you…” Hwei whispered, before Jhin pulled him in harshly for a longer, wetter kiss.

Jhin’s force pushed Hwei backwards until he hit the canvas, his entire back sticking to its color. Next to his face, the core of the lotus seemed to tint his pale, flushed skin gold. 

“You… are beautiful. So beautiful.” Jhin whispered, kissing him harder against the fabric. Hwei answered vigorously until a naughty idea popped in his head.

And he was in a naughty mood.

Hwei pushed Jhin just enough so they could see each other’s faces. Later he would realize the tingle he felt at that moment near the navel was because he saw a flash of exasperation and annoyance on Jhin’s face at being pulled apart. Could this man be any more attractive?

“Thank you, but, please…” One hand left Jhin’s hair and took the man’s right hand instead. He pressed its fingers against the wet paint behind him, next to his head. A mix of burgundy and gold coated Jhin’s fingertips, which Hwei smeared on his own cheek, along his jaw, down to his exposed neck. By the time those bony, long fingers reached his clavicles there was no trace of color, but it didn’t matter. The act was complete. “Make me… even more beautiful, Jhin.”

The growing fire in Jhin burnt ablaze. The back of his head felt numb and his hands trembled in expectation. He slowly dug his nails in Hwei’s skin, leaving tiny marks as he threaded the line between pain and pleasure. 

Hwei welcomed it. He would’ve welcomed anything Jhin did to him, but the slight pain-turned-pleasure opened a door he didn’t realize lay dormant inside him. He craved more, and it showed. His voice mellowed into a light moan. 

It was a chain reaction. Hwei let out a sound, making Jhin press harder, making Hwei sing louder. And so on.

It reached a point where it was unbearable for both. 

Jhin’s mouth latched onto Hwei’s lips with hunger, deepening the kiss while his hands threatened to clasp around his slender neck. Hwei moaned into the kiss, sounds and taste traveling directly to Jhin’s aching groin.

They parted. The virtuoso’s hands traveled south, pulling apart Hwei’s loose top and exposing his chest. A muted gasp, a fiery gaze meeting its match. They were both smiling a bit, playful, lustful, ravenous.

The painter’s chest was awfully withish, making his nipples stand out like flowers amidst snow. Jhin found it gorgeous. He took his hands there, exploring. Tan fingers traced a now roseate bosom. Still touching, Jhin resumed the kisses.

And Hwei tried to correspond, he really did, but the new found pleasure of having his chest fondled was too distracting. His hands instinctively traveled to Jhin’s hair again, gripping tightly as he struggled to keep the pace of his lips. 

Little by little the kisses became harsher, more desperate. Jhin pressed his whole body against Hwei’s, leaving sufficient space for his hands to work. When he felt Hwei’s need to breathe was urgent enough, he stopped, only to bite hard down on the painter’s lower lip. A moan and a droplet of blood escaped at the same time. 

How he had loved that.

Jhin ran his tongue from Hwei’s chin up to his scarred lip, bewitched by the metallic taste. Shyly, Hwei tried to stick out his tongue as well, panting hopelessly. 

A husky chuckle. “Would you look at that?” Jhin whispered, right thumb creeping up until it pushed down on Hwei’s tongue, forcing his mouth agape. His cloudy eyes, like an open book, showcased the whirlwind of pleasure and desire flaring within. “Such a lovely work of art already…”

He let go, leaving a trace of kisses and bites along the side of Hwei’s neck, then his clavicles, then, finally, his chest. Jhin bit hard on Hwei’s nipples, teeth marks appearing around them like reddish crowns. Beautiful.

“Oh, Heavens, Jhin,” he sighed, stuttering pathetically. “That’s, I, ah… I can’t…” 

Hwei could only moan and cling helplessly to the painting on his back. He squirmed, trying to control his body and stay in place so Jhin could do whatever he wanted, anywhere he wanted. His hands drenched in wet paint once more, orange and purple and burgundy staining his fingers. Fingers that would later taint Jhin’s hair as he pulled on it, unconsciously, responding to the immense pleasure.

Jhin didn’t mind this. He welcomed the color, amused at the coincidence of its performative aspect. They really were destined for greatness.

“Let me hear you,” he said, lips touching Hwei’s right nipple as he spoke. “I want to hear you feel good.”

“It… feels really good, Jhin,” Hwei managed to say in between moaning. There was shame beneath his wanton appetite about feeling too good. Every sensation was so intense he could barely contain himself. His underwear was drenched in precum.

“Where?”

“Everywhere…” 

“Good.” 

“Are you… I mean, you, um,” he mumbled, “you should feel… good, as well…”

Jhin chuckled after a brief moment of silence. “Rest assured, sweet flower, watching you like this feels… amazing for me.”

Hwei trembled with those words, gaze trying to meet Jhin’s. Maybe it was because he didn’t believe Jhin, or because he was feeling bold. Either way, he pulled on Jhin’s shoulders to bring him to his face, sliding his hands along his shoulder blades to hug his neck.

When Hwei spoke, he did so millimeters away from Jhin’s lips. He loved the closeness.

“Show me more, Jhin, please…” Hwei whispered. 

“You should be more honest, gorgeous,” Jhin said. His right hand slid down Hwei’s stomach, past his navel and below the elastic of his pants. Then his underwear. Jhin smirked as he heard Hwei gasp. “Just say you wanted some here…”

Jhin went past Hwei’s cock, grabbing his balls instead. Roughly. Hwei threw his head backwards alongside his hands. The thuds of solid against the thick, wet liquid of the canvas was oddly arousing. Slowly, Jhin lessened his grip, stroking the length. Their eyes met once more.

Hwei tried to hold onto the fabric, nails digging into the viscous puddles of paint. His moans were sweet, slightly high pitched, faintly reminiscent of a cry. 

Within Hwei’s sounds Jhin could hear it all: his painter’s pain, pleasure, mortification. He could hear every ounce of emotion, and that gave him a feeling of control that was indescribable.

He jerked Hwei off a little, exploring his tender, sensitive skin for the best spots before suddenly quickening the pace, wrapping his hand around him roughly. Hwei’s sounds started resembling a sob.

A vein bulged in Jhin’s neck, another on his forehead.

Before Hwei could get some release, Jhin stopped. His fingers moved away from Hwei’s shaft, aiming lower. Hwei’s eyes shot open, but before he could protest Jhin spoke.

“It’s not dirty,” as if reading his mind. “It’s perfect.”

He waited. Cunningly, he waited for Hwei to open his sweet lips to respond. Once he did, Jhin shoved a precum-coated finger inside. 

Hwei couldn’t contain the sound that followed. A mix between a loud, hoarse moan and a high pitched cry, which seemed to get caught in his throat amidst a gasp. 

Jhin smirked. Hwei had surrendered to him completely, which, in this situation, was ideal. He was open to whatever Jhin wanted to do. He was relaxed, having given in to the pleasure.

Jhin valued that. He wanted to make it worthwhile. He worked his finger carefully. He moved without haste, but with hunger. He took his time to feel around as he resumed his kisses, making sure to keep Hwei’s mind in that delicious lust overdose. 

“Mh!” A muffled scream. Hwei spasmed, hips thrusting forward. Jhin stroked around the spot, making the painter tense in expectation. He could feel Hwei sucking in his belly, pleasure hitting from deep inside his pelvis.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jhin whispered next to his ear after breaking the kiss. “You’re taking me in so nicely…”

Hwei swallowed as he nodded obediently. Jhin felt Hwei’s muscles relax around his fingers, the perfect opportunity to slip in another. 

He wasted no time, and started rubbing Hwei’s inner walls, carefully timing his motions, pressing his prostate to ensure he felt nothing but pleasure. Hwei, tired of the muddiness of the painting behind him and feeling wobbly, caught Jhin’s strong shoulders. 

Jhin’s top got stained, but he couldn’t give a single fuck.

He himself pressed his free hand on the canvas for support as he fingered Hwei. The warmth enveloping the digits of his right hand in contrast with the coldness on the left excited him. 

But he took his fingers out, earning a quiet, shy whimper.

With a strength and speed he hadn’t shown before, he pulled down Hwei’s pants and underwear, leaving him only with his loose, disarranged shirt, its long fabric at the front gracing the tip of his painter's erect dick.

And with that same strength Hwei didn’t know of, Jhin grabbed Hwei’s left thigh and pushed it upwards, forcing his knee to bend. 

“You’ll be a good boy and keep this in place, hm?” 

Hwei’s response came in the form of his left hand holding his leg as Jhin instructed, fingers digging into the soft skin of his inner thigh. His genitals laid bare. His dick would’ve covered his slightly gaping hole if it wasn’t erect and twitching.

Without warning, Jhin shoved three fingers inside. He forced his way in and stretched him open.

Hwei screamed, equally hoarse and mellow sounds escaping his lips. He battled to keep his hand in place, hips moving against his will in desperation.

Jhin wanted the pleasure to swell at the bottom of his stomach, but he didn’t want Hwei to come.

Not yet.

When he felt Hwei’s insides soft and mushy he took his fingers out. Hwei was about to whimper once more when he saw Jhin going for his own pants, undoing the laces that kept it secure. He undid only what was necessary to pull out his throbbing cock. 

Jhin stroked the base, not that he needed any help maintaining his erection. It was everything he imagined and more: Hwei’s eyes, tinted a deep, rich burgundy, stared in awe and longing at him. Hwei looked hungry, excited, and a little scared. A perfect combination, thought Jhin, thrilled by his response.

He pressed the head against Hwei’s entrance, but instead of pushing it inside he slid on top of it, rubbing alongside Hwei’s inner thigh. 

The painter’s initial moan turned into a whimper. He was about to protest when Jhin started rubbing harder, making sure Hwei’s tender hole felt every millimeter of his length against it. 

It was a powerful picture for Hwei. In this position everything was clear, and his artistic mind was sure to remember it all. His gaze alternated between north and south, also curious about what face Jhin was making. The idea of Jhin feeling good with his body gave Hwei butterflies.

Hwei basked in this moment and its sinful frenzy until his insides craved more, painfully so. He had no idea what Jhin wanted to do next, and he would’ve complied to absolutely anything, but right now his entire being, drowned in desire, ached for a particular new experience.

His right hand, glazed in deep burgundy, went to his own entrance where Jhin’s shaft was frotting. Their genitals got stained with paint, yet neither found it disgusting. Quite the opposite. Hwei felt below his fingers how Jhin pulsated in excitement at the sight. 

Hwei pushed the head of Jhin’s cock against his twitching hole, just enough to make his intentions clear.

“I want us to feel good together… Please,” he said, voice laced with lust. “Please, Jhin, I want to feel yours…”

A grunt. Jhin’s fingers pressed harder on Hwei’s skin. 

“You… don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe,” Hwei said. “But I want to know.”

“You might regret it… That is not necessary.” Rationality was slipping out of Jhin’s mind. He wanted to be careful. As uncharacteristic as it was, he wanted to care for Hwei and give him a pleasant memory. 

“...Just fuck me, Jhin.” Hwei whispered, tainted fingers trailing along Jhin’s length, reaching the base and painting from his lower abdomen to his navel. His hand, although stained, ran out of color fast.

And Jhin ran out of patience faster.

From that moment forward it all blended together in a rapid, frenetic explosion. Jhin grabbed Hwei’s inner thighs and lifted him, fully pressing Hwei’s back against the canvas for support. Instinctively, Hwei grabbed onto the other’s shoulders. 

Jhin didn’t bother with words, there was no need. As soon as Hwei was positioned he thrusted forcefully and buried himself inside. It was so tight and suffocating. It was perfect.

The virtuoso greatly appreciated Hwei’s reactions, too. His screams, the way his nails dug into his shoulders blades and his toes curled. He took a second to admire this beauty– the beauty Jhin himself crafted, before pounding him with demonic vigor. 

He was smiling like a madman, and behind moans and bawls Hwei mirrored his glee.

Jhin moved his hips with ferocity. More than sex, it looked like murder.

Hwei tried to keep his head up, desperate to capture Jhin’s expression, but it was all too intense. The smell of paint and sweat filled his lungs, the pain of being torn apart set his insides ablaze. Tanned skin scraped under his nails, the sounds of Jhin’s deep, husky sighs enveloped his ears.

When his vision started to blur, images blended together in a dark purple, burgundy and golden haze. 

He often heard and read about sex being so good people saw stars, but Hwei didn’t see any. He saw something greater. He saw the art Jhin and him created together, he saw the beauty their frenzied bodies hitting each other made. 

He saw the way Jhin seemed to have lost control over his limbs and become a prisoner to his carnal instincts, just as he himself had. Hwei didn’t know where anything was anymore, he just knew Jhin was inside him, giving him everything, and he was giving everything back.

He saw the way Jhin looked at him. 

And they kissed again.

It didn’t take long for unbearable pleasure to swell at the bottom of Hwei’s stomach, and later he would remember feeling Jhin spurting a bit of cum inside him because he just couldn't contain himself longer.

“Jhin– I’m–” Words slurred between Hwei’s lips, his tongue practically useless, occupied with moaning. “I can’t– I’m–” 

“I know,” Jhin managed to say, inhaling sharply. Tinted hair fell on his sweat covered forehead that, in addition to his distorted grin, enhanced Jhin’s bestial aura. “Do it.”

Jhin buried himself as deep as possible and they climaxed together, riding their orgasms as one. 

Hwei could feel Jhin’s seed spreading a foreign warmth from inside, while his own dirtied both of their shirts. He felt like laughing. He felt juvenile, and silly.

They trembled, holding each other closely, as their muscles were hit with exhaustion.

After catching his breath, and with a tiny smirk still on his lips, Jhin planted kisses along Hwei’s jawline. The painter heard himself giggle, hands moving on their own to trace Jhin’s features. 

“Gorgeous…” Jhin whispered, making Hwei laugh some more.

“Me?” He mumbled. “You…”

“Us.”

Jhin pulled out, slowly, and arranged his body to carry Hwei princess-style. Suddenly, Hwei’s laugh died out and he looked around, visibly concerned.

“Oh God… What am I going to do about…”

Jhin shook his head. “Leave it all to me, dear.” He cooed.

Hwei was a little conflicted. What did “leave it all to Jhin” really mean? Was he going to clean? Hide the evidence? There was so much Jhin didn’t know about this place, or about…

He tried to keep a rational train of thought, but it was impossible. His mind focused on the real, tangible sensations of the present. There was paint on their bodies, deeper and more colorful in the places they had touched the most. His inner thighs, Jhin’s abdomen, Jhin’s shoulder blades, both of their faces. As if they were canvases. As if they were each other’s work.

Jhin adjusted his grip. Skin met skin once more in a swift, quick movement. Enough for Hwei to be bombarded by the images of their recent deed, feeling Jhin’s touch still on him. 

A faint smile creeped on Hwei’s lips. His skin was slightly rough where the paint had dried and yet, when it rubbed against Jhin’s own, it was paradise. He stared at Jhin’s face, the streak of purple he had smeared at the beginning looking down at him. His mark, in a sense.

Hwei, unable to move on from the blissful afterglow, allowed tiredness to wash over him. His eyelids felt heavy, and there was some lingering pain when he tried to move his legs. His body wouldn’t respond the way he wanted it to, leaving him with no choice but to nuzzle Jhin’s chest, nodding.

“Thank you…” Was the last thing Hwei said before falling soundly asleep.

“No,” Jhin said, barely audible. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

When you have a soundly asleep painter in your arms, a sexual mess in a public study hall, and a higher than fifty percent probability of being found with your dick out and proud within the next hour, you have to think and act fast.

Very fast.

First, the most important thing– the thing that’s still alive. Hwei. 

Well, actually, the first thing he did was tuck his dick back into his trousers. Then, Hwei.

Jhin was quick, and quiet like a shadow. He took Hwei to his room, without being seen, and made his way back to the crime scene. So to speak. 

That took him about five minutes. He knew how to carry a body, and he knew how to do it as quickly as possible. Tricks of the trade. Then, the second most important thing: the painting. It was a work of art, it was absolutely beautiful and had to be handled with utmost care.

Of course, such a lovely piece of handiwork had to go in the safest place he knew of. This one was tricky. His own room was a no go. People came to clean it sometimes so one look and, although Hwei would be safe from people knowing he was the author, Jhin didn’t want anyone to cast their eyes over it.

Hwei’s room was better. A simple glance and Jhin could tell no one but Hwei himself cleaned that place. But Jhin also didn’t want Hwei to look at the finished product just yet. It would be an important piece in Hwei’s life… His first time seeing it must have a deeper meaning.

Then came Hwei’s hideout. Absolutely perfect. It was the most ideal place to hide a larger than life canvas facing the wall. Even if someone did come, nobody would bother to look twice at it as it’d be among useless garbage. Lovely.

Taking the painting to the faraway room took a lot more than he would’ve liked. About twenty minutes. He was twenty-five minutes in and he still had to clean the mess. He wanted to leave no trace behind. Of anything. Not the sex, not the painting. 

So he got to work. Half an hour later he had wiped away the paint from the floor and replaced the poor easel (that thing gave its best fight to stay in one piece) with a new, sturdy one. As if nothing at all had happened.

But Jhin’s work was far from over. 

He went to Hwei’s room again. On the bed, the painter laid still asleep. His breaths were profound. Jhin could tell it was probably the best sleep the man had had in a while. Something within his chest stirred at the thought. What were they doing to him in this hellhole?

Nothing reasonable. That’s what. This was no place for him, for his art. For an artist of Hwei’s caliber, this was a prison.

Shaking his head, Jhin locked the door behind him. He closed the curtains for all windows, every single one. Maybe, Jhin thought, Hwei couldn’t tell because of ecstasy, but if someone were to see them covered in paint like this, with this pattern, it would be a dead giveaway of their rendezvous.

So Jhin did what any sensible man would do and prepared Hwei’s large tub. He filled it with water, added bath salts. It was inviting, with that faint smell of lavender Jhin loved so much on Hwei.

Once done he took a small basin from the bathroom, filled that with the scented water and took a cloth. 

With everything set next to the bed he slowly and carefully removed Hwei’s clothes, one by one. It was an intimate process they didn’t take the time to do before. Discovering how to unravel the knots of Hwei’s garment, the exciting curiosity of what lay underneath. He didn’t regret missing this, thinking it much too dull, yet he found out, as he moved his fingers with precision, the little clothing affair had its charm.

Hwei’s shirt came off, a layered top that, in Jhin’s opinion, drowned the skinny painter in color. Then his trousers, which slid easily along his thin but defined legs. Jhin thought he was beautiful. 

He took his time to scan him whole. 

He admired his toes, his calves, his long, porcelain legs. He found his bony hips the most attractive, they framed his sex in an alluring manner. Hwei’s stomach, with its delicate trail of dark ebony hair down the middle of his navel. His chest, with red colored nipples adorned with bite marks Jhin knew his teeth would fit into. Then his delicious clavices and slender shoulders, up to his equally (or unreasonably) marked neck. 

He trailed along Hwei’s jaw until he jumped lightly in surprise at a lovely, drowsy, and amused pair of eyes staring back.

“I didn’t know there was so much to see…” He mumbled, holding in a giggle.

Jhin couldn’t contain himself and said, “Oh, honey.” It was a rather flamboyant tone he hadn’t used at all since the beginning of his stay in Koyehn. Hwei’s smile widened, one eyebrow arching. Jhin mirrored his smile with a smirk. “You should really get a mirror in here sometime.”

Hwei said nothing and instead allowed himself a laugh. He propped himself on one elbow, laying on his side, and his gaze, naturally, traveled to the washing supplies over the night table. 

His playful smile turned soft, mellow. His eyes twinkled with affection as he turned to Jhin again.

“Do you treat all the men you bed with such… care?”

“I don’t,” Jhin confessed, eyes matching Hwei’s tenderness in a moment of pure intimacy. “I’m usually a fucking bastard.” 

Hwei laughed, shaking his head. “Khada Jhin, the fucking bastard,” he repeated. “I can’t imagine it…”

“Because I’m also a terrific actor.” With that last sentence, Jhin inched closer enough to nuzzle Hwei’s paint stained cheek with his nose. He made Hwei laugh again, feeling his own heart ache in a way he couldn’t understand. 

“That I can believe.” Hwei said, hand moving to caress Jhin’s cheek. His thumb defined the hardness of his cheekbone. There was warmth in his touch.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long, long moment of comfortable silence before Hwei closed his eyelids and took a deep breath. “I… should probably bathe.” 

He pulled away and got up, suddenly reminded of his nudity. His shoulders turned pink as he tried to cover himself with his clothes. At least his noble parts. 

Jhin smiled at his clumsiness. 

“Why don’t we go in together?” He suggested.

Hwei looked genuinely shocked. He was so surprised Jhin thought he might consider their previous sexual exchange a one time thing, which annoyed him. 

“Are… are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The slight, almost imperceptible notch of irritation in his voice made Hwei wince. 

“I didn’t mean– I just thought you’d prefer to bathe alone…” Hwei said.

Jhin actually considered his response for a minute. He did, actually, prefer to wash alone. But this wasn't… This all wasn’t really…

“That would… usually be the case, I won’t lie.” He stood, taking his top off in what he considered a demonstration of trust. Hwei did see it that way. “But I want to. With you.”

There was both shyness and puzzlement in Hwei’s demeanor. Happiness underlined with bewilderment. Jhin’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“If you don’t want to, it is okay, I didn’t mean to–”

“No!” Hwei nearly screamed, turning around immediately. “I mean, yes. I want to.” Words seemed to get stuck in his throat as Hwei struggled to express himself. “I want to go in with you, I just… I don’t know what to do.” 

“In the tub?”

“In whatever this is.” Hwei let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to scare you away, I don’t want to do something wrong, I…”

Jhin smiled. He walked up to Hwei, standing shirtless and pants undone in front of him. He took Hwei’s left hand into his own and, without breaking eye contact, planted a soft kiss on its back. 

“I already know you can be pretty scary, dear…” His lips touched Hwei’s skin as he spoke. Maybe Jhin loved that feeling, Hwei thought, considering how often he did it. “And I adore that side of you, too.”

“You haven’t seen everything there is…”

“I’ve seen enough to know it would excite me rather than scare me.”

Hwei didn’t say anything for a moment before looking up, expression vulnerable. His lips were tightly shut and hugged himself, pulling his hand away from Jhin.

“Can I ask… How can you be so sure?” 

This time, Jhin didn’t speak. He caressed Hwei’s arms from his elbows to his shoulders, eyes following his own hands. He took in the paleness of Hwei’s skin against his still lightly tinted hands. His gaze met Hwei’s once more. 

“Because, whatever happens, I can be sure I won’t miss the chance to see how beautiful you get to become.”

After a nod and a tiny sigh, Hwei got on his toes to reach Jhin’s cheek and kiss it. It was an awfully juvenile gesture, probably unfit for men their age but it somehow felt appropriate. In this moment, in this room where they were the only two people in the entire Temple, it felt right.

Jhin didn’t move an inch. He didn’t feel cold, or rude, just still. He wanted to laugh, or frown, or run, or all at once. But he stayed still. 

They stood in silence for a second before Jhin blinked rapidly. Time was moving again. He laughed. 

It was a laugh Hwei had never heard from him before. A full, bright, happy laugh with a slight bend of the back. All he was missing was a clap on the knee, as people said. It was contagious.

“Lovely.” Jhin said, regaining composure. “You’re… so very lovely.”

It wasn’t long before they got in the bathtub together. It wasn’t by any means a small bathtub, but Jhin was also nearly 2 meters tall. He had to bend his knees in order to fit as they sat across from each other. The foam around them gave the picture an air of fantasy. The burgundy paint turning the water red gave it an air of horror. 

Hwei would remember this scene, like many other scenes with Jhin, forever. Him, with his hair down and wet, with his eyelids halfway closed, with his strong shoulder muscles relaxed, with his cheekbones sharper under the lovely bright orange light of the bathroom from the chandelier high above.

His mind wandered on his own. First mistake. 

It went directly to the events just before he fell asleep, the passionate sex they had shared, covered in paint. He felt his insides tremble, trying to evoke the feeling of Jhin’s large sex inside him. 

Had he always been this raunchy?

It’s not that Hwei had never had sexual thoughts. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being as repressed as he was, his mind often went wild creating pornographic scenarios. Sometimes out of simple curiosity. With Jhin, everything was laid bare. Jhin reached the deepest parts of his brain and made him consider those fantasies possibilities.

And now they were in the tub together, naked. It was too dreamy, it was too perfect.

It was too stimulating. 

Hwei felt his muscles shudder, and, in an impulse, splashed his face with water. Jhin laughed.

“Everything okay? Is this too uncomfortable?” Jhin said.

“Not at all!” Hwei rushed to say, hands still covering his face. “It’s– it’s wonderful.”

“Are you having improper thoughts?” 

Hwei’s knees flushed lightly. 

“I… Maybe.” He confessed. “I never realized I was this greedy.”

“Then be greedy,” Jhin said. “I think it’s hot.” He spat out the word in a playful, childish way that made Hwei laugh, hands falling to his sides. 

“I never thought I would hear you calling me– or anything else– ‘hot.’”

“Then… beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, stunning,” with every word, Jhin’s tone became hungrier, sexier. “Endearing, fantastic, attractive, handsome.” He was slowly inching closer, hand sliding up Hwei’s leg and carefully pushing it upwards and to the side so he could fit in between Hwei’s thighs. “Lovely, exquisite, divine, magnificent.” Their bodies locked, their faces perfectly placed for a kiss, as if they had been made for each other. “Heavenly, artistic… Irresistible.”

Jhin’s taller body pushed Hwei’s against the tub. The painter draped his arms around Jhin’s neck, feeling safe. 

“Please…” Hwei whispered. “I might believe you…”

Jhin closed the distance with a warm, slow, passionate kiss. 

One kiss became two. Two kisses became four. When Hwei remembered they actually needed to bathe, he cupped Jhin’s face with his hands. He was smiling, irises a lovely shade of pink.

“We should clean ourselves...” Hwei said.

Jhin chuckled. He hid his face in the crook of Hwei’s neck. “Why? We will get dirty again when we reach your bed.” 

“That’s… a really good point.” 

Hwei heard Jhin laugh before feeling his teeth bite down on his neck. A gasp, then a sigh. Maybe Hwei liked pain more than he thought.

Pulling away, Jhin got on his knees and looked down on him. “If you could just see how beautiful you look surrounded by red…” He whispered. His face was composed, his body was relaxed. His eyes were rabid, lustful.

The water stopped at the middle of Jhin’s hips. His sex would’ve been fully exposed if not for the soap foam. Hwei didn’t need to see it directly to imagine it. He swallowed, gaze trailing upwards until it met Jhin’s.

Hwei slid closer without breaking eye contact. He took his left hand out of the water and pressed below Jhin’s navel. He caressed Jhin’s slick skin up to his bellybutton, tinted nails digging ever so softly. 

Jhin’s muscles reacted under his fingertips.

“Can I…?” Hwei trailed off, eyes oscillating between south and north. Jhin’s eyes never left his face.

“Hm?” Jhin smirked. “What is it, dear? Do say it clearly.”

Hwei, caught off guard, puckered his lips a little. He looked at Jhin through long, dark eyelashes and slid even closer. He could smell, between bath salts and paint, Jhin’s scent.

“Can I do it for you? I… want to use my mouth.” Pushing out the words was embarrassing, but the desire swelling up at the base of his stomach was more powerful. 

“Aren’t you bold today?”

“Is that a yes?”

“More than a yes.”

Jhin’s fingers moved Hwei’s hair out of the way, tucking it behind his ears. He defined Hwei’s long, thin nose and well defined eyebrows. He admired the beautiful, pure face he was about to corrupt. 

Blood rushed to his cock. 

The basics were the basics, Hwei didn’t need a guide for that. He pushed all the soap foam aside and, slowly, he felt his way around Jhin’s crotch, caressing his length. His delicate yet strong fingers moved with ease. Like when he was painting. 

Hwei got even closer, so close he could see Jhin’s skin clearly. Because of the… position from earlier, he couldn’t get a good look. He smiled at Jhin’s lack of pubic hair. It made so much sense.

“Is my dick funny?” Jhin said. He intended to sound annoyed and cold-hearted, however, be it the situation making him falter or Hwei knowing him better than he gave him credit for, the painter realized Jhin was actually embarrassed.

“Not at all, I’m sorry!” Hwei laughed, shaking his head. “It’s just… So perfectly shaved.”

And it was. He was meticulous even down there.

“I enjoy keeping it well-presented. For myself, really. Pubic hair can become a terrible nuisance.” Jhin said, letting out a laugh. An embarrassed laugh, Hwei noted. “Is it not to your liking?”

“I think…” Hwei smirked a little, getting even closer. Jhin’s semi-erect sex was warm against his lips as he mimicked Jhin’s movements, speaking directly over skin. Hwei made sure to maintain eye-contact as much as possible. “I think it’s very, very hot.”

Jhin reacted. Hwei started exploring. 

He’d never done this before, and there was surely no manual, but he would give it his all. He left kisses over Jhin’s skin, from his pelvis to the tip, playing close attention to the other man’s reactions, to the pulse that quickened with every kiss.

He was proud of himself for getting Jhin fully hard. The virtuoso, on the other hand, was perplexed. Never in his life had he been turned on by someone kissing his dick. 

Hwei started trying to lick him, coating him in saliva to ease his movements. He was, little by little, taking him in. As much as he could without choking, and even a bit beyond that. He was very careful, and he was very sweet.

Just as Jhin had expected. What he had not expected was liking it so much. 

He thought he’d let Hwei fool around, see how bad he really was, then guide him into a better, more gratifying activity. Instead, he found himself moving his hips ever so slightly, one hand gripping the side of the tub so he didn’t just pull on Hwei’s hair and thrust into his mouth.

His reactions gave Hwei bravery. He took him in deeper, and carefully moved his head. He found his body moving on its own, following his instincts as much as he followed Jhin’s reactions. 

Hwei was feeling it, too. His own body was feeling good from pleasing Jhin. 

More than sex, more than lust, Hwei felt liberated. He felt in control of his own body, in partial control of Jhin. It was intoxicating.

“Nh.” Jhin sighed. “That’s good…” He mumbled, breathless. Unconsciously, he put a hand over Hwei’s head, steadying his moves. 

The water felt scorching hot around Hwei’s lower body. His hips, he realized, had been thrusting, and he himself was erect. 

The idea of being desired, the feeling of control, the illusion of liberation. It felt like that painting from before, it felt like letting loose and existing as a normal, rotten, raunchy, lustful, free human being.

Pleasure took a hold of them as their bodies explored it. Hwei didn’t register the discomfort in his jaw, the trembling of his legs, the tiredness and pain in his lower back. Nothing mattered.

Jhin grabbed Hwei’s hair, pulling delicately. A record scratch in an otherwise perfect piece.

After freeing his mouth, Hwei spoke. “Don’t.” His voice was agitated. “Don’t be afraid… Hurt me more.”

Silence. Jhin’s expression was unreadable. For a moment, there was no anger, no lust, no confusion. Then, his hand grabbed harder, he pulled down harder. Hwei’s head was yanked backwards, his mouth forced open. Jhin’s free hand held his own cock as he guided it back to Hwei’s lips.

“As you wish.” Jhin said, and Hwei realized he had been holding back.

The painter took him in once more, but this time Jhin thrusted into his mouth instead of just letting him lick and kiss. Hwei felt every time he hit the back of his throat, everytime a small gag was overshadowed by the immense pleasure. 

Water splashed following their movements. Light at first, then rapid. It fell off the sides of the tub, yet its sounds were drowned by Jhin and Hwei’s. 

Hwei’s muffled moans made Jhin’s grip tighten. Jhin’s grunts and sighs drove Hwei mad. 

Ecstasy was close. 

Jhin let go of Hwei’s hair so he could grab his face from the sides and keep him in place as he reached his orgasm. Hwei’s thighs trembled and he felt his hips buckle, his back arch a little and his vision cloud. 

Right before the climax, Jhin pulled Hwei’s head back forcefully and took out his cock. Hwei saw a haze of white and orange and red, then felt as Jhin’s cum slid from the bridge of his nose down to his cheeks. 

A whirlwind of emotions exploded from within. 

Hwei felt happy, elated, free, even a little sad. He felt like laughing, he felt like crying. He felt everything and, at the same time, nothing but the gentle coolness of the water and the tickle of soap foam. 

His happiness showed on his face, on his silly smile and unfocused eyes. Jhin chuckled, one hand holding Hwei’s chin upwards. He wanted to keep this image with him forever.

“...Come on.” Jhin whispered. “Let’s get clean. For real this time.”

Cleaning up was humorous. Neither could stop laughing from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. 

Finally, and after much giggling and pointing at newfound stains of paint (“when did I touch you there?!”), they got into nice sleeping clothes and then, in bed. There was no light other than the faint moonlight creeping from the bottom of the curtains.

Hwei was actually the first to make a move, hugging Jhin close, snuggling into his arms. 

“Is… this okay? For a moment, I…” Even amidst bold movements, his voice was shy and scared. Jhin found this dichotomy quite striking. 

“It’s okay.” Jhin whispered, holding Hwei close. 

He would never tell Hwei, but this was a first for him. He had never slept like this with anyone, he had never created or found himself in a scenario where he needed to. 

Hwei… was surprise after surprise. He was all at once, and Jhin loved that. He loved the way he just couldn’t decide what to show, how it would show through his eyes, through his hands, through his voice the array of colors in his soul battling. Hwei, at least to Jhin, was an open book, and the internal turmoil he expressed with every shy bat of his lashes was captivating. 

“It’s really the first time…” Jhin mumbled, thinking Hwei asleep. 

“Hm?” And he almost was. “The first what?”

In the darkness, Jhin’s ears turned bright pink. “The first time we’ve shared this bed.” He said. “The only other time I stayed here, you slept on the floor.”

“Oh, right.” Hwei giggled, quietly. Jhin wondered how strong Hwei really was, fighting the obvious exhaustion just to talk sweet nothings. “I did… I was scared I’d show you something shameful…” He confessed, voice muffled against Jhin’s pecs.

“I know…” Jhin whispered back. 

Another giggle later, Hwei was sound asleep. Jhin cuddled him still, feeling a strange sense of comfort from holding the other man. 

Nothing made sense. 

Hwei, what Hwei meant to him, what Hwei had done to him. What they both had become. It was confusing, it was different and new and overwhelming. And it was so beautiful. 

Jhin watched Hwei’s sleeping face, trying to make out the shapes of his features in the dark. He realized he knew them by heart.

A silent sigh. He wouldn’t get much sleep that night.

Chapter Text

A vast, round room, a tall ceiling, large windows shut tight and covered with thick curtains, dim lanterns all around. Cloaked individuals, faces hidden, marched around the large oval table at its center until everyone sat. The air was heavy among them, no one dared speak.

Someone broke through the sepulchral silence, directing, commanding. The meeting began.

Important matters were discussed. The well-being of the Temple was the top priority, alongside its preservation and protection. This included, of course, protection of its traditions and ancient methods. Hwei’s name was mentioned countless times, and although he was usually a topic of concern himself, it wasn’t until another name was brought up that frowns deepend.

“How long is this supposed visit?”

“He said he’d stay the whole summer.”

“This is really troubling.”

“He’s neglecting his duties because of him.”

“How outrageous.”

The mumbles were perfectly audible, yet they were treated as nothing but mumbles. There was a silent agreement between the mysterious figures of treating this last topic as taboo. 

One hand was held, like a beacon grasping everyone’s attention. Silence reigned once more.

“Enough.” It was a somber voice who spoke, deep, coming from the head of the table.  Its velvety tone masked its underlined cruelness. “We have turned a blind eye for far too long. We must act now.” 

Another figure asked for permission to speak. It was granted.

“Master Quan, if I may,” this voice was sweet, kind. It was an adult voice yet it carried a youthful air. “The man will leave soon, and he hasn't influenced our poor Hwei at all, I think. Is it really so, um, serious?”

There was a brief silence before the lead figure, Master Quan, replied.

“Should we wait for him to be influenced, Master Ino? Will you see, then, what I see?” His calmness was a facade, but as much as the other masters realized Quan was furious, nobody was brave enough to mention it. “We must avoid any corruption to the mind we’ve cultivated with all of our efforts.” 

“I just don’t think a wandering artist–”

“Artist?” Master Quan interrupted. His voice was ice cold, and his piercing green eyes shot daggers at the sweet voice below his cloak.

Ino shut their lips tightly.

Leading Master Quan walked towards Ino. His steps were slow, breaking the silence with every thud of his boots. 

“Do you consider this man… an artist, Master Ino?” Quan said. His hands clasped behind his back, head shaking in disapproval. Some could say this was his signature move, as nothing seemed to be enough for him. Nothing but Hwei, when the painter behaved. “Have you seen him perform? Have you seen him paint? Sculpt? Sing?” With each accusation his voice became harsher, leaving behind his calm demeanor and showing some of his true colors.

By not speaking, he silently ordered Ino to reply.

“I’ve heard he is a musician, and an actor…” Ino mumbled. 

“Speak up, Master, we all want to hear about this mysterious virtuoso.” Quan started to sound a bit rude, making Ino frown. 

“I have heard he is a musician, and an actor.” Ino said, voice strong and assertive without losing its kindness. 

“Ah, yes. A musician, and an actor.” Quan was starting to sound condescending, letting his emotions get the best of him. Some of the figures turned to each other, perplexed. Master Quan had truly never been this angry.

He was a stern man, sure, very difficult to please. But he was never this petty. 

“Of course. I see now. What’s the harm?” The leading master continued. “He’ll teach our Hwei how to sing, perhaps, or teach him to act. How about a nice, fun acting activity like improvisation? Spontaneous, harmless, liberating improvisation? That would be good for our Hwei, don’t you agree?”

Ino shuddered, shoulders tense. Images from that sea of paint flashed in their mind. As caring as Ino was, it had been terrifying to witness Hwei lose control. No matter how much Ino had wanted to overcome that memory, looking at Hwei meant remembering the way paint almost drowned everyone around, the way color twisted and came alive in monstrous magnitudes.

“You’re right.” Quan said. His voice lost its nuances, going back to a flat, harsh iciness. “Histrionism is just what Hwei needs.”

“Master Frey wanted to know if the tapestries of halls six and seven will be done by next week?” A young, high pitched voice asked. She was probably in her early twenties. 

“Mmh, yeah, sure. They’ll be done!”

“Great! I’ll let her know. And, um, Master Ino wanted to see you sometime this afternoon, if possible.”

“Of course! No problem, no problem.”

Hwei had a faint sense of deja vu, speaking to someone behind the door like this. Well, maybe not like this. 

“And, last thing, sorry! Master Ravell asked if the festival lanterns were ready?”

“...” 

No answer. The woman behind the door was confused. She looked around, giving Master Hwei some space. He was, after all, a very busy person who shouldered many responsibilities. She didn’t mean to be rude.

“Um, I’m sorry, Master? Did– did you hear me?”

“Yes! Sorry!” Hwei cried out. There was no response to the initial question, but, already feeling impolite enough, the delicate lady stayed put. She stared at her shoes for a long time before Hwei answered. “The lanterns will be ready by tomorrow night! No need to worry!”

She smiled. “Understood! I’m so sorry, Master, please rest. Let us know if you’re not feeling well. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?”

“No, no, there is no need. Thank you–” Hwei suddenly went silent. Then, after a brief pause, spoke again. “Thank you. No need. I’ll eat later!”

“Ah! Okay, okay!” She chirped. Her idea of being annoying overshadowed any thought of what Master Hwei could possibly be doing that made him sound so uncharacteristically exasperated. 

She left, her small feet thumping the floor under her as she rushed to get away. 

Once Hwei made sure there was nobody around, he let out a full, bright laugh. 

“Would you cut it out?!” He said, voice playful and awfully naughty.

Jhin, between his legs under the covers, smirked over Hwei’s thigh. He wriggled, fingers teasingly pressing Hwei’s sides as he caressed and bit to his heart's content. His nails dig lightly into Hwei’s skin, feeling delighted when his fingers fit perfectly in the bruises that adorned it. 

He now knew how much Hwei enjoyed the mix of pain and pleasure. Knowing the drug, he would also try increasing the dosage. 

“Do you really want me to stop?” He said.

Hwei moaned as Jhin dug his teeth into his inner thigh once more, then gasped as the virtuoso springed upwards, popping out from beneath the sheets. The warm orange fabric over his head framed his face and shoulders, his chest peeking through the light white blouse’s cleavage. 

Their gazes met and it was… magic. As corny as it was, as embarrassed as Hwei felt to think of it that way, there was no other word that fit. It was a force stronger than them pulling them close. One moment they were locking eyes, the next their lips clashed furiously. 

Jhin pulled the sheets over them both, then moved to get on top of Hwei. Laughter. He pressed the painter’s thin wrists against the bed, at both sides of his head. 

A smirk bloomed in Jhin’s face as he felt Hwei shamelessly spread his legs further. He let go of his wrists to grab his waist and forcefully pull him close. Hwei giggled when Jhin’s groin hit his backside. He felt extremely silly, and wondered how Jhin did these things with not only a straight face but a sexy expression. 

Hwei covered his own face with his hands, suddenly overly conscious of his goofy grin, of his pinkish cheeks, of the five or six undone buttons of his nightshirt.

“So? Do you?” Jhin insisted, inching closer. A beast on prowl. His breath was warm against the back of Hwei’s hands.

“Shut up…” Hwei mumbled. 

In the darkness, he felt Jhin kiss his neck. Light, tender pecks along the side of his neck. 

“Have I been keeping you from your work?” Jhin whispered.

The heat beneath the sheets was suffocating, which seemed to make Jhin excited. Hwei mirrored his excitement, finding the enclosed sounds of their sighs and kisses arousing.

“No…” He moaned. “No, no, of course not…”

“Do you not enjoy the upcoming festival?”

“No, I mean, I love it.” Hwei’s ears felt warm as he admitted something so childish.

“Mm, that’s adorable.” 

“Stop, I know it’s silly.”

“Maybe a little.”

Hwei playfully hit Jhin’s shoulder, taking his hands off his face in the process. When he did, and his eyes focused, he saw Jhin’s piercing gaze staring at his face. He had a sweet smile playing, one that felt almost rare to witness.

“Shall we go together?” Jhin said.

The words left his lips. Hwei knew what those words meant. He understood. Except he didn’t. He was genuinely shocked, mouth slightly open. Then, he felt like crying. 

All these years, and not once did he go to the festival with a date. The idea itself was wild, alien. The back of his eyes burnt as he laughed.

He stuttered before realizing there was only one thought in his mind. Only one thing he wanted to say.

“Yes.”

The day went on without novelties. Hwei occupied his mind with any kind of work. Finishing the lanterns, supervising the tapestries, even his least favorite task, finishing the paperwork. 

Going from one room to another he found himself circling the same corridors, finding details he'd never noticed before.

The large, grand hall he was in now, for instance, was bright with morning light. It was a long corridor with exuberantly tall walls. Its windows almost reached the ceiling. He liked being here, because he liked feeling small, surrounded by the colors that bloomed when the light met the soft green wallpaper with golden accents. 

When Hwei was young, his innocence nurtured the dream of making Koyehn the biggest art capital in all of Runaterra. He wanted to share its resources with artists all over the world who couldn’t see a future in the arts. Who couldn’t afford to practice their talents. His heart ached when he thought of all the greats that would be lost to poverty, to ignorance.

With age came the realization that, first of all, it wasn’t his place to decide that. And those who did decide had the intention of keeping Koyehn hidden. Perfectly still in time, as it always had been. 

He sighed, staring out the window. 

Lately, he was feeling hopeful. It had something to do with being, well, in love.

It was about time to admit it. He was never going to tell Jhin, so why not be honest with himself, at least? He thought about it as he walked down the corridor. He was supposed to meet Master Ino sometime later, when exactly he had forgotten. He forgot for the same reason it was the third time he strolled up and down the hall. 

His heart was in charge. His heart wanted to indulge this wonderful feeling, to cherish it. 

His heart thought it would be the one and only time he’d love like this.

Because he didn’t love the sex, he didn’t love the flesh. It was a lovely addition. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought about this fixation, the further away he found himself from those carnal desires. 

His chest beat faster when he thought about Jhin talking about art, when he thought about the passion with which he spoke of plays, of pieces. The fire in his eyes when they discussed famous works, the admiration that peeked the first time Hwei dared to admit said famous works weren’t even that good.

The way Jhin saw him as the artist he knew he was but never had the courage to be. 

He wondered if it was normal to feel it was special. It was his first, so he figured everyone felt like it was a once in a lifetime bond.

It was very stupid. 

He felt young, then felt his age. He felt happy, brave, and then shy and embarrassed. Everyday a cacophony played relentlessly within his chest. It was exhausting, but invigorating at the same time.

His fingers itched to paint. He wanted to paint and paint and paint like never before. Not just colors on a canvas, he wanted to see the painting come alive and envelop him with its warmth as it reminded him of Jhin.

Enough. 

It had been enough. He forced his feet and his mind to halt. Step by step he walked up to the highest floor of the Temple. Infinite blue extended above him. The top level had a glass roof, and was filled with the most colorful greenery. Flowers of all shapes and sizes decorated the place, and many students sat in the wooden benches peacefully enjoying each other’s company.

Master Ino was watering the plants at the center of the room, a round, tall arrangement surrounded by empty benches. He walked up to them, but even as he stood next to Ino they didn’t acknowledge his presence. Not until all water was drained from the watering can and it lay in its place at the base of the centerpiece. 

“You’re late.” Ino said, their tone was kind. 

“I’m really sorry, Master. I lost track of time.”

Ino’s eyes went from the flowers to Hwei’s face. Shock grazed their sweet features.

“You’re smiling!” They chirped. “No, you’re glowing!” Ino took Hwei’s arms in their hands and spun him around, grinning. 

“What…?” Hwei mumbled.

“I know this happiness. It must be love!” 

Whatever smile Ino saw in Hwei’s lips vanished, leaving behind a dreadful expression. Ino went still, suddenly a little scared. Hwei regained control of his face and smiled again, trying to ease the Master.

“I– is… is that so?” He whispered, hands clasping over his cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

Ino’s grin returned as fast as it went, jumping up and down in excitement. Of course. Little Hwei was shy. He had never shown romantic interest; it was normal if he was terrified of it. 

“Kinda, yeah.” Ino sang. “It suits you.”

The entire council had sort of given up on Hwei finding a partner. 

Ino didn’t even remotely consider it could be the strange, eclectic visitor.

“With all due respect, I doubt it suits me. I think I’m way too… gloomy.” Hwei said.

“That’s exactly why it suits you!”

Hwei could feel what Master Ino would say next. He knew it was going to be a “tell me everything!” or “spill the details, please!”, so in order to save himself the horror of explaining his current situation, Hwei spoke first.

“Master Ino, I’m… I don’t mean to be rude, but you called me here for, um, something else, yes? It sounded urgent, so…” 

“Ah…” Ino’s face grew wary, eyes scanning the surroundings casually. Ino let go of Hwei, hugging themselves. “Yes. It’s very important. I’m so sorry to rain on your parade like this, love, it’s just… really, really important.”

Whatever Ino was about to say, Hwei preferred it over gushing about Jhin.

“Master Quan is very, uh, dissatisfied? Dissatisfied.” Ino said.

Maybe Hwei didn’t really mean that initial thought.

“...When is he not?” The painter mumbled, trying to smile. A loud drum beat inside his ears, an alarm that reminded him with every thump of the missing painting. Jhin said he had disposed of it. And Hwei, starry-eyed and stupid, didn’t bother to ask how, trusting the man completely. 

“Well…” Ino laughed nervously. “True. However, this time is quite specific.” 

It couldn’t be the painting. It couldn’t be. Master Ino would be panicking, knowing how angry that kind of artistic display angered Master Quan. Ino always hated the way Master Quan would punish Hwei. They always thought of it too extreme. Ino wouldn’t be this calm if it was, no. Plus Jhin had disposed of it. 

It couldn’t be that painting.

“How so?” The back of his eyes burnt as he spoke, word for word. He remembered punishment well. It hadn’t happened in a long, long time because he learnt from it. He had been good, and well-behaved. Until, of course…

“It’s about this friend of yours, the artist?”

Hwei repeated Ino’s words in his mind over and over. His friend. The artist. 

“Jhin?” He said, puzzled. Why would a visitor bother Master Quan? 

“Yeah! Him. The handsome fella.” Ino giggled. “Quite the eye-candy, some say. Master Quan is very angry about him. Says he’s not an artist and that his ways poison our Temple.” 

For a brief moment, Hwei wanted to laugh. He pressed his lips tightly shut, deep in thought. 

“I… can see why Master Quan would think that.” Hwei said. He knew perfectly well that Jhin embodied everything he was taught not to be. It was almost poetic he fell in love with what every master on the council would consider a giant, bright danger sign. 

“Mhm.” Ino was also deep in thought, for much more different reasons. “Try to stay away from him until he leaves, would you? Or, like, just keep it polite. Maybe he’s fun and all, but you know how Quan gets…”

“Yes, I completely understand, Master.” Hwei’s fear dissipated, now strangely humored by the situation. “No worries, I will not anger Master Quan any further. Jhin is almost gone, anyway…” 

Jhin was almost gone, anyway.

“I know you will.” Ino patted Hwei’s arm in a fraternal gesture, yet it was the same as ever. Hwei could physically feel the wall that each and every master put up when it came to dealing with him. He could see the color of their fear, a gaudy yellow. 

“If that was everything, I think I should go tend to the lanter–”

“Oh, no! Don’t you dare!” Ino cried, playful. “About that love of yours.” They sang.

“Ah…”

“I won’t keep you too much, I just think you should be brave, let them know! What’s the worst that could happen? Truly?” Ino’s lovely voice hid their intensity well. Hwei was used to it.

“I could die.”

Ino burst out laughing. 

“Just tell them. Promise me you will?”

Hwei wanted to get away, he wanted to roll his eyes and groan and laugh. He didn’t do any of that. Instead, he simply nodded.

“I… will try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The days that followed were interesting. Hwei would devote himself to festival preparations and see Jhin late at night. Sometimes it was a raw, frenzied explosion of desire and lust, other times they simply sat, eating together and discussing art.

Nothing really changed, except the things that did. 

Jhin wasn’t as flirtatious. He didn’t grow cold, though, the opposite. He became rather clingy in his own way. He was now less expressive, more relaxed, and wanted to keep Hwei all to himself, at least during the time they shared.

Hwei found this incredibly cute. He failed to notice the underlying obsession because he could only think about Jhin.

Today, too. It was deep into the night, the wind was howling outside the windows and a nice, big plate of steaming buns lay on the rug as they sat across from each other. The smell was heavenly and the cloudy smoke was inviting. Hwei didn’t focus on any of this, mind occupied only by Jhin’s voice. 

He was lost in the words, in the man. He heard him but at the same time Ino’s voice replayed in the back of his mind. Promise me you will tell them. What’s the worst that could happen? Truly? 

And then his own. I will try. I will try. I will try.

“Hwei, are you listening to me?” Jhin said, popping the bubble.

“Of course!” Hwei said, unconsciously straightening his back.

Jhin’s expression was subtle, yet Hwei could see now the light furrow of the brows, the nearly imperceptible puckering of the lips. He giggled. 

“I didn’t know I was making a joke.” Jhin said, eyes cold. He was sulking.

“Jhin, of course I was listening to you. I love listening to you.” Heat went to his face. He didn’t really foresee he would say that. “I mean, I do. And I believe I’m very bad at hiding it.”

The corner of Jhin’s lips tugged upwards a bit. 

“That is true. You can barely hide anything from me.”

There was a pang of guilt in Hwei’s heart, alongside a faint alarm. Did Jhin realize his feelings for him? If he did, and he never brought it up, it was likely he didn’t feel the same. And if he didn’t, Hwei still had to decide whether to tell him or not. It was a vicious circle that drove Hwei mad.

“You’re starting to lose your mask a little, too, mister.” Hwei joked, in an attempt to shut down the anxious, lovesick thoughts.

Jhin froze. The ghost of a smile that was playing on his lips vanished, and his eyes were icy. His shoulders tensed for a second, but before Hwei could show his worry, Jhin snorted. His features relaxed once more and he grabbed a bun, fingers barely pressing on the soft dough.

“That… may also be true.” 

Something stirred within Hwei. He wanted, desperately, to understand. He wanted to ease Jhin’s burdens, the ones he didn’t know yet, the ones he couldn’t comprehend. Little by little he had been granted permission to peek inside the complex human in front of him. He had caught a glimpse of it through moments like these, where Jhin allowed himself to just be. To be seen bare. 

He looked hurt. He looked lonely. 

He was almost gone, anyway.

“For the record, I like what I’m seeing behind it.” Hwei said, without thinking, eyes hyper focused on the food. The heat on his face spread to his ears, to his nape. “I… like it very much.” He whispered now, slowly raising his gaze to meet Jhin’s. 

Jhin looked like he was struggling to not say something. Reluctantly, he bit the bun. Hwei didn’t press on, beyond flustered. It was a moment of uneasy silence before Jhin chewed, swallowed, then spoke.

“The festival is coming up.” He said. 

Hwei ignored the pain in his gut. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“It is.” 

“Do you know what you’ll wear?” Jhin asked.

“Huh?” Hwei’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wear?”

“Mhm. I… I expect my date to match with me.” Jhin said. “Well, naturally.” He cleared his throat.

It was the first time Hwei heard Jhin stutter. He was speechless. Jhin was actually nervous. A smile returned to Hwei’s lips as he shyly looked away. 

“True, I’m going to attend with the summer sensation of Koyehn.” Hwei could’ve sworn he saw a smidge of Jhin’s ear turn bright red.

“Oh, please…” He let out a short laugh. 

Hwei let himself enjoy the comfortable silence for a moment before speaking. 

“The… festival is only three days away. And then…” The unspoken words were harsh, but so was reality.

“Then… summer will be over.” Jhin said, eyes locked with Hwei’s. Indecipherable. 

Those words carried a heavy weight.

“Summer will be over.” Hwei repeated, holding Jhin’s gaze.

The next morning Hwei felt something strange in the air. Jhin was gone by the time he woke up. The room held no evidence of him even being there last night. The only remnant of Jhin’s presence were the messy sheets, still folding as if two people laid together. 

He felt an unknown, inexplicable urge to run. Maybe it was because after a full hour or two in bed nobody came to check up on him, which was the usual. There was a weird quietness around, the Temple felt deserted. 

It was such a new sensation that he didn’t feel fear, or anxiety. Just odd. 

It felt like a dream. If it was a nightmare of a fantasy, Hwei didn’t know yet.

He got ready. Washed himself, got dressed. The everyday routine. He thought he’d just go over the Festival’s inventory, make sure everything was ready so tomorrow they could take it easy setting everything up. He prepared some manuscripts, ink, and brushes, and made his way downstairs.

The Temple was, indeed, deserted. He barely saw anyone in the study halls, or in the open, grand painting rooms. Even the windows seemed lonely, with the breeze carefully swaying their long curtains. 

Hwei felt again that primal urge to run. He almost did, too, seeing less and less people as he got closer to the lower floors. When he reached ground level, there wasn’t a soul. 

A similar image appeared in his mind. An empty Temple, silence all around, the colors somewhat mute. That time, he had also been drenched in muted paint, blending in with the background like a still life piece. 

This time was different. He felt alive, embarrassingly so. Yet everything around was dead silent. 

A sharp pain was slowly creeping upwards, edging his heart. Jhin.

Did Jhin leave? Did Jhin anger Master Quan and he was being reprimanded in front of all the students? Was he caught performing arts in a way that defied the Temple’s teachings? Did Jhin leave already?

Questions on top of questions piled up in his mind, fueled by the heavy silence crushing his spirit. He hated being alone like this. He loved being alone surrounded by life, because life was art, and art was always there. He saw bright colors in the cafeteria chatter and the bustling of existence. 

This kind of quietude was overwhelming for the lack of emotion. He felt void, he saw nothing. There were mute grays all around, uninspiring browns.

It also reminded him of the incident. The day he had given in to his emotions and showcased his deadly magic, only to nearly kill those who protected him all his life. Unstable. Ungrateful. Uninspiring.

Failure.

Hwei took deep breaths, focusing on the light sound of chatter from the gardens. It was very faint, but it was there. He was not alone, and the world wasn’t colorless.

It was, in fact, an explosion of color.

His world was smothered by bright, strident colors the moment he stepped into the main hall of the Temple. It was the room everyone had to go through at some point, connecting almost every staircase in the tall building. And today everyone was there.

What would normally be a stimulating scenario for Hwei was today sour and painful, not because of the amount of color all around but because of which colors jumped out and punched him in the gut.

Burgundy. Purple. Gold.

A sea of people surrounded him, voices suddenly dim in comparison to the shattering of glass in Hwei’s mind as he stared at the piece in the very center of the hall. Brown, burgundy, purple, a lotus flower.

Incoherently coherent smears of paint and textures in an abstract pattern. Up and down, side to side. A roughly treated canvas, its folds and creases adding to the overall power of the composition. It was powerful. It was raw, it was inspiring, it was wild.

It was meant to be destroyed.

Hidden away, buried. Whatever was necessary for it to never see the light of day. 

Instead, people all around were staring and pointing and laughing and smiling.

“Look at it!” 

“How beautiful!” 

“Is it allowed?!” 

“I’ve never seen anything like it before!”

There wasn’t space for feelings of pride anywhere in his body, because he was utterly convinced that “thing” was nothing but danger, just like everything real he made. He wanted to tell everyone to run from it as if the painting was a bomb. It was. He was.

He tried, he really tried to stay calm. He wanted to act just like everyone else, to feign surprise, awe, horror. So far he only got the horror down.

Master Quan entered shortly after himself, through the opposite door, scanning the crowd. Hwei felt his body shrink into himself, shoulders so tense they hurt. His stomach felt heavy, his mouth tasted sour. His eyes saw every color around with inhuman saturation, making it jarring and painful to keep his eyelids open.

But he did. He saw everything. He saw Master Quan hurry to the center of the room, terrified students hurrying to step away from his path. 

The man took the canvas and analyzed it with disgust, looking like he was about to vomit all over the beautiful paint. He was one room away, but Hwei could see his expression as if he was standing right in front of him. 

The second his fingers touched the piece, the room went quiet. As if someone flipped a switch not only on volume but also on ambience. The room was no longer coated with a warm sensation of wonder. Now, it was dreadful.

“Who did this…” He whispered. Without any sounds but his own voice, it was crystal clear. “Who did this?!” He roared. 

His fingers gripped the fabric so hard it tore. One of the other Masters tried to stop him, but Quan started walking around, showing the piece to everyone close to him. His eyes were accusatory, his hands were cruel as they scratched the fabric, scraping the dry paint with his nails.

“I will have a name! I will have a name or nobody leaves this hall!”

Hwei’s eyes burnt. His whole body felt numb as he tiptoed backwards until he hit a wall. He was so quiet, or the Masters too troubled, to be noticed. He spent long, eternal moments trying slowly making his way out of the hall. His anxiety made it hard to breathe. The colors were blinding.

Everything hurt.

Finally and without arousing suspicion he made his way out. It evoked the same emotions his first raw painting did, the one that changed everything. It had been years since the incident. It had been too long since he once let loose and made that fateful, gross monster of a painting come alive, harming others. Nobody but his Masters knew about it. The students could never imagine it had been him.

His Masters, on the other hand, would recognize it.

He walked, not making a sound, until he reached the second floor. Then he ran. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He felt a sense of deja vu, running through the same hallways and passages to his hidden oasis. 

It was more intense when he went into this secret hideout, and Jhin was there. Whatever he was doing, Hwei didn’t register. He threw the door and felt anger pour into his heart, flooding his senses.

“What did you do…” He said. His voice was sharp. His eyes were cloudy. His irises were fiery.

“Did you like it?” Jhin seemed oblivious to Hwei’s demeanor. He looked content.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

This time Hwei’s emotions got through to him. He looked puzzled. 

“I think you’re overreacting, dear.” He said. “I think it was a terrific performan–”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Hwei spat. “Are you actually, literally, insane? I told you they couldn’t know about that painting, I told you to hide it, you told me you took care of it!” He got closer, hands flailing desperately. “I told you how– why did you lie to me?!"

“It’s a beautiful piece, Hwei–”

“It’s garbage!” Finally, Hwei screamed. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. He felt the years of building a proper, rightful image to his Masters crumble. Years of trying to be seen as a human instead of a weapon without safety measures. A ticking time bomb that would just go off whenever. He saw the horrified faces of his Masters again, he saw Quan looking at him with repugnance. He saw himself back at the starting point, trying to earn back his dignity. “It’s filthy, don’t you understand? It’s gross, it’s disgusting, it’s nothing but putrid–”

Jhin grabbed Hwei’s wrists, staring into his eyes. There was another sense of deja vu, only this time it died when their eyes met.

Those weren’t the kind eyes that consoled him once, many moons ago. This piercing glare was painfully cold. 

“Quiet.” Jhin demanded. His eyebrows were relaxed, but his jaw muscles were tense.

“Let me go, Jhin.”

“Why? So you can continue to insult my work?” 

“Your work?” Hwei nearly laughed. “Your work, Jhin? I made that painting!”

“And I made you!”

“You– excuse me?” Hwei tried to break free from Jhin’s grip. He failed, Jhin being way stronger than he let on. He didn’t care, however, too shocked to do anything but pour out his rage and hurt. “Made me? I am an artist! I am my own artist, mind you. How dare you say that?!"

“You were nothing before me. Confined to these rules, to these… these pompous limitations that only produce boring, flawed art.”

“That boring, flawed art is my legacy. I’m proud of it. I worked hard to earn my title!”

“Worked hard at what? Deceiving your so called Masters into thinking you were mediocre enough for this shithole–”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh shut Jhin up. He had been slapped. With strength from who knows where Hwei broke free and slapped Jhin across the face.

“Don’t you ever, ever call my home a shithole, you fraud.” 

For the first time since their argument started, Jhin actually looked insulted. Hurt, even. He looked away, tension extending from his jaw to his neck. 

Hwei felt tears down his cheeks, and realized he had been crying. His eyes were a furious mix of yellow, dark blue, red. Blood red. It all came together in a blakish blot that swirled, that seemed to have its own pulse. 

His arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to hold it together.

“Why did you do it? Why did you betray me?”

“I didn’t betray you. They won’t know it was you, they can’t know it was you.”

“What do you know?!” Hwei spat, angrily. “You don’t know this place, you don’t know my masters, and you don’t know me!”

“And you know me?” 

Jhin’s tone was one he had never used before. Not with Hwei. He sounded different, his entire aura shifted. He felt dangerous, he felt distant. He felt inhuman.

It was then Hwei realized how fickle this thing of theirs had been. How fragile. 

How utterly hopeless.

Hwei didn’t realize his nails were digging into his arms, nor did he notice the sharp small knives of paint carving through the old canvases around the room. He was drowning, and deep down he wanted to drown. He deserved it, for being dangerous, for being ungrateful.

Images from the past invaded his mind, mixing with his new memories of Jhin. The warm nights, the explosive heat. The tenderness. The vision of being looked at like a freak by the people that were supposed to care for him clashed with the image of Jhin admiring him, admiring his work and his limitless potential. 

Like a blooming flower bud, he had started to believe the latter was the truth, and that, although his Masters had their reasons, they were simply scared. He wasn’t a monster, he was an artist. Little by little the flower grew inside of him. Now, he felt it rot and wither.

Hwei fell to his knees, desperately trying to dig his nails into the floor as he tried to cling to any sort of release.

Jhin didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. He even snorted, turning around. His entire body tensed once he saw the magic. 

His vision hyper focused, and he planned out how he could incapacitate Hwei in seconds. Before he could act upon the threat, though, the paint icicles melted and fell to the floor with a splatter, then slid along the floor to clog at Hwei’s hands.

“I don’t know you.” Hwei continued. “I don’t… know you, at all. And you don’t know me.” He let out a shaky breath and slowly stood.

The paint lay still on the floor, unmoving. The magic was gone.  The room was suddenly freezing. 

Hwei felt fresh tears cascade down his face. Shoulder blades so tense they ached. How did he himself not know that sentence would break his entire spirit, but Jhin did?

“Oh, no, I do know you Hwei.” Jhin said. 

Hwei looked up, puzzled. He could feel his rage fizzle out, and his heart grow heavy. He was exposed to a stranger, someone he didn’t recognize.

“Do you?” Hwei mumbled. 

“Of course I do.” Jhin’s tone was still icy, but it was also velvety. Hwei was reminded of the times Jhin would perform short monologues for him, just the two of them, hidden away from the rest of the world. 

Jhin didn’t continue immediately. He took his time to circle Hwei, examining the room. The painter turned around, following Jhin with his gaze. The man’s face was expressionless, yet Hwei could feel as if all the disgust and aversion in the word was contained in those crimson orbs.

“You’re an attempt at greatness.” Jhin spat, finally meeting Hwei’s eyes. “You leech off everyone around you, yet you will never be more than an attempt.”

If they had known each other a little better, if either of them wasn’t so fucked up, if had been a little more honest. Then maybe they’d realize neither of them meant everything they said.

But they were broken. Deeply broken and beaten and hurt. So they couldn’t, as much as they wanted, be a little more honest.

“I really thought you were special.” Jhin said, monotone.

Hwei said nothing for a while, harshly wiping his tears away. It was futile. The more tears he wiped the more tears fell. He hurt all over. 

The same man who opened up his world, who brought color back to it, was locking the familiar cage of mute grays and sadness, nailing his soul to misery. Hwei smiled, bitterly, as Jhin’s words pierced right through his heart. He was a miserable failure. He would never be more than that.

Jhin walked up to the door, and opened it without turning back.

“Enjoy the festival.”

Chapter Text

Hwei wept. 

In that dark, lonely room, Hwei wept. 

His first ever love, yet another heartbreak. 

Hwei’s life had been filled with disappointments that didn’t feel like disappointments. He was taught to never register them as such, taught to never shun away from error and always seek refinement. His mistakes were never covered, but instead laid under a magnifying lens with three bright spotlights, showcasing every detail. His art was never his, so his mistakes weren’t, either. 

Inside his cage where there was only art, every time there was something to fix, something wrong, something missing, no room for sadness was left. Only improvement was allowed. 

In a healthier setting, this would have been a great mindset. Don’t be afraid to fail, you can always find a way to do it better. For Hwei, however, it was more so about never being enough. He had expectations over his shoulders that would simply never be met. For most of his life Hwei had the notion he would never meet them, no matter how hard he worked. And although the reasons as to why had changed as he grew older, and saw life with different eyes, he could never detach himself from this feeling. Now, he knew for certain.

Now he was sure there was going to be something missing every time. Not because his technique wasn’t good enough, not because he lacked experience as an artist, not because he didn’t study hard enough. It was because he was not the person his masters needed, and he was never going to be.

He was not away from the goal, he was never accepted in the race to begin with. 

Jhin had made him feel understood. Too understood, in fact, that it was uncomfortable. Jhin seemed to know too much about him, more than anyone else, more than himself. And since that was never treated as a bad thing, his aching soul longed for more connection. Hwei thought he had it all figured out. 

Had all that, then, been a lie? Had Jhin really lied about everything? Every warm moment shared, every walk under the moonlight, every secret meal. Was that another performance? Part of his twisted play?

Hwei wasn’t sure if he wanted to confront him, forget him, or thwack him. He had no idea what was going on, and all he had to work with were Jhin’ words. Painfully calculated to make it as hurtful as possible. An attempt at greatness, too naive to doubt a man he knew nothing about. 

He rolled on his side and laid on his back. The bed covers were a mess from his tossing and turning. The sunlight creeping in felt scolding hot. With a sigh, he hovered his left hand over his face, admiring the golden hues the sun cast on his skin. He would never see the color the same. The details on Jhin’s clothing, the accents on his tools. It was so subtle yet so effective in making it his own.

His fingers stretched and caressed the ray of light. He remembered Jhin’s touch. He got incredibly angry. The gold around his fingers flickered. 

A lie? A performance? If that was the case, Jhin was despicable. Was there any reason for his flirting? Was there any meaning behind anything he did? Everything he got from Hwei were things he could’ve gotten anywhere else. He just had to flash that handsome smile and dozens would probably kneel. The anger in his chest spread. His swollen eyes hurt as he frowned. With another move of his fingers, dots of black ink swirled from the wall into his hand, dancing around his fingers. It shimmered golden as it touched the sunlight.

Hwei spat a laugh. A summer ago he would’ve been terrified of this tiny, insignificant display. A week ago he would’ve been proud of himself. Now he only looked at it with disdain. Some disgust, even.

He played with it for a bit before lifting his right hand as well. A multitude of colors came off the paintings in the wall in little streams. The paint danced and swayed to the beat of his heart. Suddenly, one droplet of red hit the ceiling above with a mute splatter. The back of his eyes burnt. Another color hit right beside it, a nice brown. The paint started mixing together on his command, coating the surface in erratic, dramatic shapes. He felt the wet coolness of the paint hovering over his hands as it smeared on them, sticking to his fingers, as if melting with his flesh. He felt new tears bloom and it hurt. 

There was a crack, there was a crash. There was a knock on the door. Someone said something but Hwei didn’t understand a word.

“Please leave… I am busy.” He said, loud enough to be heard outside. He got up from the bed and started going around his room, the paint distorting the air around him. He looked around and saw trash. He saw paintings he hated, he saw work he wasn’t even good at, he saw the cage it really was.

And he despised it. In this very moment, where his emotions overflowed and drenched the walls, he felt despairingly enraged. He moved his hands frantically, conducting his own vortex of colorful destruction. Erratic, imprecise. Raw. Angry. He could only hear the sound of wet paint slashing the concrete or the wood of the walls and ceiling, he could only hear his own heartbeat loud and frenzied in his chest. He could only hear the fucking knock on the door. 

“I said I am busy!” He shouted this time. The knocking stopped for a moment in which time seemed to stay still. The power coursing through his fingers and changing this contained reality slowed down, too. He was about to calm down when it began again, and he heard the person outside call his name. 

“Master Hwei!” 

There were some other phrases mixed in, something about hearing loud noises, something about being worried. But that particular expression made Hwei see red. The paint in his hands was boiling water. He looked around and faced the thick wooden door with murderous intent. He was not Master Hwei. He was tired of being Master Hwei. He was tired of everything and everyone and every injustice. 

With every thought the pressure got more intense, it grew and grew until it was physically difficult to breathe. He heard himself shout, scream. He cried out in pain as he held his head, feeling like it was about to explode. The paint, which somewhere along the outburst had mixed into a deep, blackish shade of gold, stained his hair, some of it fell down his face and blended with the streaks of his tears.

The knocking on the door was furious now. Hwei wanted it all to stop. He needed this to stop. 

“Enough!” He roared, energy exploding from within and onto the room. This time, he heard it all with extreme clarity. The breaking of wood, the cracking of concrete, the ripping of paper, the tearing of canvases, the splatter of paint.

Then, silence. 

Pure, mute, gray silence.

Hwei wanted to laugh. In the end, there was nothing. In the end no matter how beautiful he had made his cage, it was still a cage. No matter how much he destroyed, his shoulders were still heavy. No matter how much he painted, it was still so meaningless.

He opened the door, expression hollow and sharp. There was an underlying sadness in his eyes, a hint of the abysmal misery he struggled to keep hidden. 

“I said I was busy…” He mumbled, ears still numb with a faraway ringing in his ears. 

Master Ino stared in terror at Hwei, looking past him and over at the room. Instinctively, they took a step back. Hwei held back an eye roll.

“I just…” Ino swallowed harshly, clearing their throat before looking directly at Hwei. Their expression softened, yet Hwei could clearly see the paleness of their face. He could see, in fact, the color of their fear. A jarring streak of greenish yellow smeared in reality. It was ugly.

“It’s okay, Master, do tell me.” He wanted Ino to speak. Hwei almost wanted them to say how scary he seemed. He wanted, for once, to hear it directly. “Would you like to come in?” 

“No, no, that’s… It’s okay, no. I just wanted to check on you, and… Would you like some fresh air? We can talk in the garden.” Ino smiled. A sweet, tender smile in rosy pink amidst the sea of fear colored ink that was their face. 

There was good intent. Hwei knew Ino was not a bad person, nor did they want to hurt him. But it was painfully obvious, and he was tired. Hwei let out a heavy sigh before nodding. The corner of his lips curved upwards slightly.

“Yes, Master. Of course.”  

The walk to the gardens was quiet. Neither spoke, and Hwei could see how Ino was trying to calm down. He found it amusing. The walk also helped Hwei cool off the steam and become clear headed. He was still angry, and worn out, but by the time they reached Ino’s favorite bench under a beautiful peach blossom tree, Hwei could remember it was neither Ino’s fault nor his.

It wasn’t the masters’ fault, it wasn’t the students’. There was nothing at fault. Just a series of sad, sad circumstances. 

“Hwei, I…” Ino began after they both sat down. “I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Is… something wrong, Master?” Hwei asked, softly. He could see the faint baby blue of his words being carried away by the wind, the color of his own sounds. It almost took all of his attention, as it was not supposed to happen. He shook his head to focus properly on Master Ino.

“I… So you, you are in love, yes?” Ino’s sweet voice was, in its own tender way, somber. They looked around a little, hiding it behind their sudden interest in the blossoms they knew well.

“Ah…” It was Hwei’s time to turn stern. A blot of ink appeared on the bottom left corner of his eye. He blinked rapidly, looking around. It was starting to scare him, was it just his magic? Or was he also hallucinating? 

“Are you unwell, Hwei?” Ino said, worried. Hwei could see the worry in their face clash with the fear. “Do you want some tea?”

With a couple of blinks and Ino’s troubled face, the blot was gone. Hwei shook his head, smiling.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I, ah, yes, I was in love.” He looked away, to a flower on the floor. Someone had stepped on it.

“Was…?” Ino whispered, placing a compassionate hand over Hwei’s arm. The painter tried his best to make his smile reassuring. 

“It’s nothing!” And it really was nothing. Now, talking to Ino and sensing his own power flow within, Hwei felt as their time together weighed on him. No more than three months. It had all been so fast, so quick, so… stupid. It was both shallow and profound. “It’s… It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Hm…” Ino nodded. “I see. Still, what I wanted to say it’s still worth saying!”

Hwei looked puzzled. “Yes, Master?”

“I thought about it. I mean, you looked so happy, you were sparkling with joy. I thought about it for a long, long time.” Ino’s eyes were glossy with something Hwei couldn’t understand. He knew it wasn’t fear, nor worry. Oddly, it wasn’t affection, either. It was new, different. “Is– was this person… The visiting artist?” They whispered.

Hwei didn’t know if he went pale or if he laughed. Maybe a mix of both, considering Master Ino giggled at his reaction.

“I…” Am I in trouble? Hwei thought. “He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Hwei, sweetie, I think… I think I misjudged you. I know your inspiration shapes your art tremendously, and I know sometimes you wish to create different art. So I know… I know that painting was yours.” 

This moment had manifested in Hwei’s mind a million times. One of the Masters telling him about the painting, about his true nature. Reprimanding him, yelling at him. Punishing him. That all could still happen, and yet… he was nonchalant. He sat there, processing Ino’s words, and simply nodded.

“Don’t… all of you Masters know?” 

“Well, some of us. But Master Quan refuses to accept it, he says it’s the work of the visitor.”

“No.” Hwei said, firm. “It’s mine. Not his.” It was his. It was his power, it was his vision.

Finally, for the first time since Hwei opened the door, a genuine, bright smile lit up Ino’s face. 

“You’ve changed.”

“Huh?” Hwei was visibly confused. “I don’t… maybe? Everyone changes all the time, Master.” Except us, we stay forever still in time.

“You’ve changed a lot.” Ino repeated. “It’s a good thing.” 

Funny. Hwei thought it was a curse. He played his part, he stayed perfect Master Lukai Hwei and was content with it. Now, he wasn’t able to ignore the shackles on his wrists and ankles. He couldn’t ignore the shadow of the cage bars over his face every time he wanted to look up at the sun. He couldn’t see the good in changing, and hoped with every cell of his being to turn back. 

“I hope it’s reversible.” Hwei mumbled.

“Oh, sweetie…” Ino rubbed the painter’s arm. “You feel like this now because it went sour. Think of the nice piece you did. Maybe there’s a way to adapt it into your current work! Wouldn’t you like that?”

He almost scoffed. Hwei didn’t want to be rude to Master Ino, who was actually being kind about the entire painting situation. But he saw no possible way that style– his style, would be allowed anywhere near this Temple. Still, he smiled. 

“Maybe.” He said. 

“I know what can heal a broken heart!” Ino clapped.

“The Festival?”

“What? No, silly.” They giggled. “Work.”

Ino grabbed Hwei’s wrist and dragged him away. The festival was tonight and there were still details to refine. Hwei wanted nothing to do with any of it. His work regarding the festival had been done, and anything related to the event reminded him of how it was supposed to have been a date. He cringed as he remembered his excited self. His swooning persona. As much as he hated it, however, Hwei was still a student under his Masters’ care, so he followed Master Ino with a tiny, fake smile on his lips.

As anticipated, work didn’t help.

He expected this much, sure, but he didn’t expect it to be so incredibly annoying. 

Jhin’s influence was everywhere. In every piece he saw his colors, his motions, his eyes. This time it wasn’t his own imagination. He saw things for what they were: murals with golden accents, lanterns with bright red details which made the flame within glow a deep orange. Of course, there were also many things that didn’t have anything remotely similar to Jhin. 

And Hwei found them boring beyond measure.

All of the things he knew so well, all of the creations he himself oversaw, it was now all so boring. It was as it had been the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that one. He saw a decoration and instead of being marveled, he could only see the precise instructions students had to follow. 

It was dull, and although it wasn’t gray, he had grown numb to the same exact colors after thirty or so years.

Ino was right. Something inside him clicked as he realized he wanted this misery. He wanted to feel this heartbroken and sad because it was so new. He suffered and ached in the past, yet it was never this complex. He either did well or he didn’t, got praised or punished, or neither, and that was it.

Now, he saw new meaning in the hues all around. He saw the world both unfiltered and colored to his own image. He saw Jhin everywhere, but more than that he saw himself. His past self, content and undisturbed. He saw it clash with his current self, tired and unable to unsee the heavy weight of tradition dictating every step.

The same, and not. Good, and bad.

He wanted to be alone. 

Of course, his secret hideout was out of the question. His room… too much of a mess at the moment. Somehow the thought of going to Jhin’s room flashed across his mind, and he had to snort. Without many options left, he wandered the long halls. 

The inner side of the Temple felt empty. Everyone was preparing something for the Festival or at home getting ready, so there weren’t any students or Masters. The occasional late assignment being worked on somewhere, but nothing much. 

Hwei walked for what felt like hours, but in reality was no less than a quarter of one, and thought he’d found a lovely, secret room to lay down and think. He was about to open the door when he froze, hearing voices behind it. 

“I told you to shut it.” A young man said. His voice, although hushed, was light and peppy, making the intimidating remark sound funny. “We need to be quiet, here!”

“Oh, man.” Another young man said. His voice was deeper, but Hwei noted it wasn’t truly deep, he was faking it for some reason. “You’re gonna get in so much trouble.”

Hwei could see the lamps were on inside, yet neither of their shadows were reflected on the panels. They were probably to the side sitting on the floor, since Hwei could hear them.

“Would you stop it?! I need to focus.” The peppy one said.

“But…” whined the other.

There was rustling of fabric and some giggling from both of them. Hwei felt his ears incredibly hot, embarrassment filling his chest. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop two possible sweethearts fooling around. He was about to turn back when he saw a flash of pink and violet out the corner of his eye.

He went pale. There was no laughter, no sweet nothings anymore, nor even the sound of the wind. It was dead silent as he followed the color around the hallway. He saw it swirl as if dancing, as if smiling at him. It moved as it took the shape of a person without features.

The vision was inviting him into the room, closer and closer to the door until it slid below it like a squirming animal. 

His heartbeat was loud and quick in his ears. When there was no trace of the paint left, sounds returned to reality. He heard the boys talking again. 

“I’m telling you, this is not right. They’re gonna find out,” the lower voice said.

“If you’re so loud they will!” the other replied. “It’s just a painting, I’ll burn it or something later… I just…”

“I know. That piece was amazing. I wonder who did it?”

“Obviously that handsome traveler, duh.” Hwei could hear the roll of his eyes in his words. “Nobody from here would dare.”

“You did!” 

“I would never dare show it!”

Their bickering went on until it became a childish fight. Hwei didn’t bother to listen any longer. Only then he realized his nails were digging into his palms from the strength of his fists. Was there anyone in this damned Temple not bewitched by Jhin?

It was too perfect. 

At first, his starry eyed gullible self found it charming. This idea of destiny. Now, he couldn’t help but feel invisible strings pulling from the sides. Not that it made any rational sense, how would anyone predict his route? Who or what else could plant two impressed young men painting in secret, inspired by his raw work? 

He thought about the colors he was seeing, and his heart felt heavy. He thought about what lurked inside him and the way it gnawed at his ribcage in a desperate attempt to come out. He needed to remain contained, he mustn’t give in. 

He grabbed his head as he shook it furiously and sprinted to the main hall. 

He was most likely very tired, and the Festival was the perfect opportunity to blend within the crowd and disappear.

Swaying light from the lanterns, red and orange hues painting the people strolling up and down. The colors shone with particular brightness under the setting sun, the golden hour. Music could be heard from anywhere in the Temple, and a plethora of stalls had been set up with food and drink, each one with their own specialty. The Temple was grand, but today, with the rivers of people and the new decorations, it felt like a palace.

Tapestries made specifically for today had been hung, covering the tall walls in beautiful gold and red. They asked for prosperity and safety, this being both a celebration of the end of Summer and a welcoming for the colder half of the year. 

Koyehn wasn’t very fond of the cold, and Hwei wasn’t either. Many summers he found himself wishing they were eternal and that fall and winter never came. Even now, he resented the dullness of the cold, the numbness of the fingers. He sighed, and looked around to the beautiful tones in the crowd, in the stalls, over the walls. 

He used to love this explosion of color and humanity. Why was it different?

It wasn’t boring, it wasn’t dull. He loved it, genuinely. But when he looked around his heart didn’t race with excitement and his hands didn’t tingle, feeling no desire to paint the scenery. Would this be temporary, or permanent? Had he crossed lines he was never supposed to? 

Questions upon questions piled up inside his mind. Finally, he simply took a deep breath and followed the crowd to no particular direction. 

This apathy was beyond Jhin. Jhin broke his heart, yes, and he still wished for some type of explanation from the man. However, this profound misery wasn’t a broken heart thinking. The loneliness, the sadness, the hopelessness of all these years he kept bottled up had exploded within him. It poisoned his spirit with selfish ideas of grandiose. He hated Jhin for igniting the fire. He hated himself for allowing it. 

Hwei figured it was a matter of time for him to go back to normal– or at least some sort of normality. He wandered the stalls. 

Berry lemonade, skewers, seafood, sweet buns. Reds, soft whites, pinks. The reddish skewered squids looked delicious. There were a lot of fried dishes, too, radiating with a crispy golden shine under the fiery lamps. Fried tofu, fried chicken, youtiao, long fried breadsticks they were serving with congee (he made a mental note to come back for that one).

He was about to go for the squid when something caught his eye, or rather, his nose. The familiar smell of spicy chicken. One corner of his mouth twitched, mind going right back to that time in the Cafeteria. 

“One serving, please.” He said to the vendor, getting some loose coins out of his pockets. The young person at the stall smiled brightly, they seemed like a spirited young student.

“Master Hwei, of course!” They beamed, preparing the large leaves in which the greasy chicken would be wrapped. 

“Thank you.”

“But, um…” The apprentice’s eyes went back and forth between Hwei and the pot full of chicken perfectly drowned in deep red sauce. “Weren’t you… bad with spicy food, Master? I– I just wanted to know because I think Father Guo went hard on the spice today…”

“It’s okay.” Hwei smiled. Probably the first real smile since that morning. “I’ve gotten better at handling it.”

“Ah! Got it!” 

Hwei was handed the takeaway leaves wrapping and disposable wooden chopsticks. The wrapping was warm to the touch. Food would do him good, and facing the past was never a bad thing. He had to make amends with the fact that these memories were a part of him. That they were fond experiences, and thanks to it all he was able to grow.

He thanked the young student and walked back to the main area. A stage had been set for the musicians, and he remembered Master Ravell wanted to put together some kind of talent show. He sat on a bench a few spaces away from the stage and began to eat.

One song, two songs, three. He ate slowly, one piece at a time. By the time he was done, his nose and lips were bright red and the sky was dark blue. The breeze of the last summer night was chilly, but the spice helped keep him warm despite his light clothing.

Finally… he laughed. The chicken was delicious. He still couldn’t handle it well, but it was still delicious.

He was about to leave and get himself a nice serving of youtiao with congee when a familiar, somehow nostalgic tune reached his ears. 

It was a violin.

He knew that sound, he heard it before. Well, maybe not exactly like this. The other time had been in town, in the street, by a wandering artist. He remembered the people clapping, he remembered being about to clap when it happened. 

A smear of red– burgundy bloomed. Then, specks of it joined, all of them following the rhythm. His pulse quickened, but he didn’t feel fear.

He didn’t fear these visions of color. He knew them. He knew who was painting them, and he knew only he could see this world of surrealism. The memory of the apparition outside the young painters’ room clouded his mind, its featureless face now a mirror.

Small, tiny speckles appeared all around, like fireflies. Their hue was soft, no matter the color, and they danced around the bigger stroke which swirled and swayed to the singing of the violin. It was a lovely sound, this one was truly gorgeous. Nothing like the amateur street performer from months ago. 

The color was guiding him again, this time, to look towards the stage. One of the colorful paint dots, born from the innocent laughter of a child, joined the parade with its tender baby blue. The music was ethereal, peaceful. It softened Hwei’s eyes and gave reality a new dimension. 

The world he himself once buried under thick layers of mute grays and browns came alive.

His fingers itched, his desire to paint stronger than ever. He finally looked over at the musician, expecting to find a familiar face. When his eyes reached the player, the color spectacle paused for a millisecond. 

It was a mask. 

It was an elegant, bone colored theater mask. It had a strong presence, for a mask, with a gracious, simple asymmetrical design. From this distance, Hwei couldn’t see the eyes behind it, but he knew. 

The music changed. It was no longer carefree and thin, it was heavy and dark. Ominous. The melody appeared trapped in the notes, disrupting the peace of the color haze. Now they were erratic, opaque. The newborn laughter was replaced with the intensified bustling of reality. Hwei could see the confused mumbling of the audience, and the snickering of passing onlookers.

It sounded like him. It sounded like Hwei. 

He was immediately sent back to all of those moments standing in front of the mute brown doors. Waiting like a pig by the entrance of the slaughterhouse, rage forcefully shut down. But if he turned on the volume, it would sound like this. Despair trapped in a bottle, washed away by stormy seas. The colors were getting stained by a deep maroon, as if wilted. 

But it wasn’t just sad or lugubrious, although it was tinted with it. It was contained. It was as if the music wanted to be free, but couldn’t. It gave Hwei a strange anxiety, feeling it pierce the skin at the back of his exposed neck. Night air felt colder.

The dark tones grew louder and louder until they exploded in a cacophony of vibrant, exuberant melodies. Gold. Gold and burgundy and purple and orange. 

The players' movements were erratic. He moved with ferocity and Hwei could see from the popping veins of his arms and the tension of his muscles he was excited, the vigor of his feet adding to the overall display. Hwei too felt trapped within the music, making everything converge into a single grand performance. 

Hwei stood, his own breathing mirroring the man’s excitement. It was him in those dancing, weeping colors. It was him fighting and, after much build up, exploding. 

He remained on his feet until the end of the show. Not only this player’s show, which was the one before the last, but until the stage was fully deserted and there was no longer an audience to play to. Until all color faded into specks of mundane sounds. 

His heart, however, didn’t calm down. 

It was an amazing performance. No, amazing didn’t even cut it. It had been magistral. He related deeply to it, so much he could easily see his life throughout the piece. He connected with it on a level he never imagined possible.

And it left him incredibly, utterly, poisonously ballistic. 

Breathing was difficult.

He ran. He thought about Jhin. He thought about his actions since they first met. Filtry, chivalrous, enchanting. He thought about the piece, about its raw emotion. He thought about the time they spent together, about his own feelings and the way they evolved.

Every aspect of his life that had been cut short from the beginning, Jhin exploited that. He had been used and he still had no idea why. He had been stripped bare while he had never so much as peeked into Jhin’s true self. Was there such a thing, to begin with?

His running died down as he reached the end of what would be the Temple grounds. 

He stared at the vast world beyond the eastern arc. Not the town, not the mountains behind them. The world beyond it, beyond Koyehn. He looked back at the Temple. He used to see it so tall it reached the clouds, and now it seemed fickle in comparison to everything else. He loved it still, but now he saw it for what it was. A part of him still wanted to go back to seeing it as his whole world, because that would make everything easier.

He took a deep breath, and walked. He had to get away.

He wandered the streets, feeling his awe of art and life slowly revive with every stray creature slipping away into the alleyways, with every faraway laughter, with every warmly lit up window. There was beauty in life, and no amount of heartbreak would take that away from him.

Amidst the tranquil colors that coated his reality, however, there was a muddy golden swirl in every single one of them. As if sneering at him. 

He followed it out of spite, walking through the paths where it was louder, bolder. He followed the color until well past midnight, when he found himself back at the Temple. The moonlit green of the rustling of leaves as he walked through the gardens was a gorgeous shade by his feet. The rich blue of the icy breeze by his ear. 

And then, at the end of everything, him. 

He had his back leaned against a deep orange colored tree, wilting petals scattering around him. His clothes were just like that first day in the town, his suave and cool demeanor charming as usual. Only one eye stared back at Hwei through the bone colored mask, and the painter would’ve frozen in terror by the lack of emotion reflected in it if he hadn’t expected as much.

And next to him, the paint ghost. Hwei saw his own twisted face in it as he got closer. 

“I made a bet with myself, you could say I couldn’t help it.” Jhin was the first to speak. His velvety voice was slightly muffled by the mask, yet still perfectly clear. If anything, it seemed deeper. “If you managed to see me before my departure, I promised I would give you a prize.”

“...But you guided me here.” Hwei said, expression cold.

Hwei reached Jhin. He detailed the mask with great care, taking in every detail. He smiled softly as he admired its careful construction, rage overpowered by the artistry before him. Afterwards, he noticed there was no slick back hair or the tanned skin of his neck. Jhin’s head seemed to be covered by some sort of skin tight fabric, down to his clavicles. His arms, however, were bare.

“Did I, now?” Jhin chuckled. “And how?”

Hwei didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He knew very well it hadn’t been Jhin tormenting him today.

“Stop.” He demanded. “Enough of this game.”

“So it’s a game, then?” Jhin was amused.

Red. Deep, dark red. Hwei mirrored Jhin’s piercing eye for a moment before looking away. He took a deep breath, and looked back at Jhin. He remembered Jhin taller, as if on a pedestal, maybe because he used to see him better, worthier. Now, the ground they stood on felt the same. 

And yet, his pulse still quickened, his body still reacted. The memories of shared breaths made his limbs heavy, like anchors, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The places Jhin had bitten and kissed burnt with desire and rage. He was mad. He was lonely.

“I don’t know. I don’t claim to know you.”

“But you desire me?”

“I do.” Hwei admitted, angrily. “I want to know you, you already know. You poisoned me, bewitched me, and showed me both the world I knew and a world I never would’ve imagined. Khada Jhin, I desire you.” His words didn’t match his enraged expression. “But I also hate you. I despise you. You appear one day, learn everything about me, change me, and I wasn’t even able to see a fragment of your true self.”

Jhin said nothing for a while. 

“Hm. So that’s what you think.” Hwei could hear the nonchalant smile in his voice. “I’m hurt, sweetheart. I thought I showed plenty.”

There was an awkward, pregnant silence before Hwei spoke again. Jhin’s words were replaying in his mind like a broken record.

“If I ask… my questions, will any of them get an answer?” Hwei said, brows furrowed.

“Answers aren’t really my thing, dear.” 

Hwei snorted, shaking his head lightly. His mind was racing with a million ideas of what to say next. 

Jhin stood up properly, hands behind his back as he looked down on Hwei. Despite his covered face, Hwei could feel a mixture of disgust and another emotion he couldn’t quite understand. 

“Hwei, must you keep fooling yourself?” He said.

A golden streak was painted over reality, disrupting the air with its sudden appearance and making Hwei freeze. It covered Jhin’s mask, and it was painful to watch as it was bright and jarring against the night scenery. Then the paint rotted, mixing with brown and black in a blot that was as menacing as breathtaking.  

Jhin laughed. It was rather somber, as Hwei felt no real humor in it. Only once he was done, and silence stood between them, Hwei moved. Very carefully he raised his hand. With reserved movements he extended it towards Jhin’s mask, reaching into the vortex of paint that enveloped the virtuoso. His fingers didn’t manage to touch it, though. Jhin grabbed his wrist with force, harsh and rough in contrast to Hwei’s pale skin and delicate motions. The paint dissipated.

“I see…” Hwei whispered. “So this is your real face, then.”

As soon as those words left his lips Jhin pulled him forcefully and slammed Hwei against the tree. His back hurt from the impact, flowers fell around them. Hwei winced. When his vision focused, he couldn’t pinpoint a single emotion raging in that single eye. It bred no color, yet it burned with intensity. 

“If that’s your conclusion, very well.” Jhin said, commanding. “Show me yours.”

Hwei didn’t move, at first. He took a moment to stare back, to process those words. He felt Jhin’s hand soften its grip until he let go entirely. Jhin took something from the back of his belt, and extended it to Hwei. It was a clean art brush. Simple, round, with gold accents. Hwei had seen it before, painting lotuses. 

“Paint for me.” Jhin said.

A terrified look broke through Hwei’s face. Despite himself, his hand hovered over the brush, indecisive. Finally, he took it, clinging to it for dear life.

“I… I don’t–”

“Paint.”

Something bloomed inside Hwei. It ruptured his skin and bones as it erupted within his chest. There was no sound, there was no color. There was only canvas.

Only one thing to do.

He turned around and raised the brush. He flicked his left wrist, power shyly bolting through his fingers and onto the brush. Usually, when he practiced by himself, he started slowly. A background color, some sort of sketching. 

Today it was different. Today he started abruptly, like lighting. The ground disappeared around them, from their feet waves broke through the darkness. The falling orange leaves turned into fishes swimming around in the breeze, the breeze turned to rivers of blue and aquamarine. Hwei’s body moved with ferocity, painting the night sky golden. Distorted shapes smeared their reality. 

The air tasted fresh and crisp and new. Hwei thought back of that piece, the one Jhin called “his work”, and laughed. He cackled, looking around and painting more. New colors, new ideas, new visions. Years worth of imagination exploded all around and made the garden into a pond, a river, the zenith of a mountain.

With every new layer, a new world was unveiled, each wilder than the last. Hwei had only had books to illustrate the world beyond Koyehn, and he read every one there was in the library, so the further away he went, the more bizarre it was. How he imagined a city in the sky, or the deepest underwater empire. 

He kept going until it all became everything at once yet nothing at all; it kept possibilities open, it was never just one thing. 

It was pure ecstasy. It was art. Ever changing, free, raw. Vivid. Cathartic. 

He saw the sound of Jhin’s footsteps, muddish gold specks in a 4/4 rhythm. He stood behind Hwei, and he felt something press down on his neck. His first idea was that Jhin was about to strangle him, but he quickly noticed the pressure wasn’t from his fingers.

It was a band, he felt with his hand. He could sense an intricate pattern in its embroidery, complex and curious, yet he didn’t find it odd. He was confused, and looked back. Jhin’s mask appeared to smile.

“Your prize. My promise.”

Hwei’s eyes were an overfall of color. So many emotions all mixed together, clashing, fighting for dominance. So he continued to paint. He painted grand burgundy explosions in the sky. Abstract flowers, a mix between lotuses and peach blossoms and lavender, began to bloom by their feet.

Jhin followed closely behind, observing him in great detail. Soon, it developed into a dance. Hwei painted and gave life to new shapes and Jhin followed, admiring them and admiring him. At least that’s what it felt like. Maybe he was judging, maybe he was amused, or bored.

The uncertainty, Hwei found, was thrilling.

A hand crept from the back of Hwei’s forearm, and guided the brush to twist a forming figure. It became tainted by gold and black. Hwei’s eyes widened, looking back at Jhin once more. 

He was about to protest, angry and surprised, when Jhin yanked his arm back with force, making the shape break apart into a disarray of ink blots. Jhin didn’t give Hwei time to process, and started forcefully guiding his brush. 

The more Hwei protested, the more strength he applied, and the more corrupt the shapes became. He felt Jhin’s hands on his arms, his wrists, at one point Jhin was holding him by the neck from behind like a dog. With every forceful grab the scenery grew darker. Soon, they were dancing on an impressionist macabre stage. Paint pooled below them and splashed as they stepped on it, and the stains on their clothing started slithering upwards.

There was no telling where one ended and the other began. They were a mixture of paint and magic and flesh and emotion too complex to dissect. Hwei felt Jhin’s grip on his wrists painful, and it was exciting. Amidst the mess, he saw his single red eye brimming with hunger. Or anger. He couldn’t tell.

Right now, Jhin either wanted to fuck him, consume him, or kill him. Maybe none of the above, maybe all at once. 

And Hwei felt the same.

He reached for his face,  breaking through Jhin’s strong handling. He grabbed Jhin’s jaw with both hands, his paint brush awkward between his fingers. Their bodies were close, chests touching with every ragged breath. Without thoughts or rationality to stop him, Hwei planted a kiss over Jhin’s mask, right over the mouth. It was cool on his lips, hard yet somehow similar to the kisses they shared before. The sensations were intensified as Hwei closed his eyelids, melting into the kiss. He trembled, strangely intoxicated by the act. 

He missed the way Jhin’s eye widened. 

Jhin grabbed his hair with his left hand and pulled, roughly, then, with stark and slightly jarring contrast, carefully caressed Hwei’s face with his right hand. He was unreadable. 

His long fingers detailed Hwei’s jawline, his cheekbones. His left hand pulled harder on his hair, breaking his thin hair tie. Hwei let out a funny sound, a mix between a moan and a whimper. He pressed his lips tightly shut immediately after, eyes remaining defiant. 

He saw the color of a chuckle and felt Jhin’s fingers let go of his hair. The tender touch of his right hand was replaced by a violent grab of his chin. Jhin forced his face upwards.

“Show me everything.”

Hwei felt his soul bare. He felt his skin ripping open and his heart beating outside of his body. The brush in his left hand was scolding hot but he didn’t let go. 

Instead, he turned around, back pressed against Jhin’s chest, and painted. Jhin didn’t interrupt him this time. He remained silent and observant and Hwei poured out his art. As if from his chest, a river of orange and yellow and green flowed, and from it flowers bloomed. The scenery was powerful, yet still remained macabre enough; the night sky above them was painted gold and brown and the moon was a rich red shade. Hwei felt Jhin’s fingers along his shoulder blades, tracing his arms without directing his art. His light touches reflected in stars of deep, dark purple with a golden gleam. 

A powerful heat build up in Hwei’s navel, different from the pleasure he was taught. That memory felt banal in comparison to this. This overbearing power and ecstasy left him breathless, it made the paint erratic, distorted. Twisted.

He couldn't understand it, and for some reason that made it even better. He didn’t want to understand. He was fascinated by the sensations all around him, by what he was capable of. He was exhilarated by Jhin’s stare, burning holes in the back of his head. He felt movement, and turned back slightly, gasping for air. 

Jhin, with his face close to his ear, whispered a single word.

It drove Hwei over the edge. He spasmed, back arching slightly. He gasped, the flowers all around exploding in burgundy and purple, the sky falling down like a rain of gold, followed by droplets of red from the melting moon. His irises turned pure black with a golden glisten as he let go of the brush. 

It made a sensible purple blot as it hit the ground with a small thud.

“Jhin…” He whispered. His vision was blurry, and he was unable to tell apart paint from reality. “Please stay… just a little longer.” He managed to get out. He tried to grab onto Jhin’s clothing, but there was not an ounce of strength left in his entire body. Jhin snorted, humorless.

“I'm afraid I cannot.” He whispered back, taking Hwei's delicate hands to stop them from moving around hazily. “I must go watch the lotuses bloom.”

The last thing Hwei saw was the color of Jhin’s chuckle. It was lovely.

Then, darkness.

Next time Hwei came to his senses, he was in his bed. 

He was drowsy. He stretched his limbs, feeling rested. That was a surprise, usually he felt like he needed at least thirty more hours of sleep. He laid on his back, then on his side, hugging a large pillow. He wanted to enjoy the blissful glow that enveloped him. Consciousness started to slowly set in, and as much as he wanted to ignore it his mind went directly to yesterday’s events. Crying, his room before his emotional display, Master Ino, Master Ino’s ugly yellow fear, the Festival, the youtiao he couldn’t get to try, the dancing colors…

The colors. 

A strange, piercing sense of paranoia stabbed his nape. He blinked rapidly, carefully looking around. His room was still a mess, which he was grateful for. It made it feel known, and safe. And his.

He sighed heavily into the pillow before sitting up, pressing his face with his left hand. It smelled faintly like paint, more so than normal. He pushed his hair backwards, realizing his hair tie was gone, and remembered.

The magic. Jhin. The ecstasy. Freedom.

An electrifying pleasure resonated through his flesh, muscles instinctively reacting. He pressed his eyes shut, tightly, and opened them again to look out the window. It was probably early morning, still a few hours away from dawn. He laughed, breathlessly, although it sounded more like a sob. 

What had he done?

He was about to lie down again, too awestruck by the memory of his… performance, when his attention was forcefully taken by one thing. Well, two things.

First, he was still wearing the neckband. He felt around and found no palpable lock. Was it designed so it could be put on but not removed? Either way, and as shameful as it was, he had already decided to keep it. 

Second, there was something on the bed. 

It was next to him, on top of the bed covers, funnily laying on its side. He must’ve moved it earlier. He took it, carefully, and couldn’t help a tiny, tender smile from gracing his lips. 

Its petals were soft to the touch, even when a bit greasy due to the oils some of it was painted with.

Hwei was taken back to that first day. That first “fateful” encounter and that first half painted flower. He remembered its colors clearly, and realized this one was different. It wasn’t only dark purple, pink, or yellow. It was also tinted orange and had a bit of a green hue.

He admired it for a while. Probably ten, fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. He stopped himself with a deep breath, taking in the lovely, peculiar scent of flowery oil paint. 

He placed the lotus carefully on his bedside table, finding it hard to keep his eyes away. Finally, with a small laugh, he laid back down. Maybe four, three hours until dawn. Three hours until everything went back to normal. That man was probably two towns away by now, and once the sun arose Hwei’s life would return to the usual. The monotone grays and mute browns.

Whether he was prepared or not he realized it didn't matter. In a rare moment of confidence, he felt brave to face whatever. Probably a gigantic scolding, considering everything he had done. But it didn’t matter, not right now.

He rolled on his side, facing the unfinished lotus. While recalling that first encounter, he also remembered the faint alarms in his ears. He didn’t distinguish if the memory was only a memory or if it was another presentiment, but with Jhin long gone, what was there to be truly alarmed about?

He smiled to himself, slowly closing his eyelids to the colors of a beautiful vision.

There was no telling where one ended and the other began. They were a mixture of paint and magic and flesh and emotion too complex to dissect.