Archive of Our Own

"Can I paint you?"

Johnny's breath hitches. He blinks - once, twice. Just to be sure, a third time. He exhales.

"Come again?"

-----

A couple of weeks - maybe months - ago …

It started as a joke - to play into the stranger's assumption about him as a scam caller. Ten didn't actually intend to keep it entertained for longer than a day, maybe two, but somehow … as he contemplates which flower to add with every day or so, it continues.

He looks at the phone in his hand, the last call vanishing as his screen turns black. Wednesday. He has to get going soon. Nonetheless, he hums a little to himself as he stares out of the window. He gave away his name, though the identity of the other remains a quiet mystery. Perhaps he should try a little harder - but not on that front. Perhaps he should see if he can ask Granny Suh about this without her picking up on his strange interest immediately.

But, first things first.

He sighs, leaving his used bowl in the sink and yawning a little when he gets ready for university. But maybe, as the world begins to color in a watery skyblue, the day won't be as bad.

He hopes his class today won't cause too much of a ruckus - but even as they make the whole tutoring gig not exactly easier, it's still better than 'doing nothing important with the time he has' - or whatever they say.

Another sigh escapes him when he looks into the mirror in the corridor, putting up a smile - for show, to encourage himself, he isn't so sure - before he opens the door and leaves.

The sky would soon be painted a stark blue that contrasts the crimson-colored flower petals he adds to the floral wall on this day.

-----

Eventually, Ten finds out about the actual identity of the voice he spoke to. Even as the circumstances of their meeting on Sunday do puzzle him, he doesn't mind Johnny's newfound presence much - if at all. There seems to be something brightly warm about him, to a bit of his surprise. From what he caught during some of their calls, Ten initially thought of him to be somewhat of a muddy grey tone, blended in with everyone else who sticks to a routine like he appears to do, but Ten finds himself proven wrong - proven different - here and now.

Johnny Suh is a curious existence in and for itself, though he wonders if the man himself is even aware of it - of the way vivid colors that shine through the dark grey of the suits he sometimes wears when he visits Granny Suh after work - well, his grandmother.

Sometimes, he ends up sketching silhouettes of the other - quick drawings with little rhyme or reason. But more often than not, he'd end up with colors, wielded all over the place, a strange mimicry of emotions instead of something more tangible.

More often than not, a soft and bright kind of yellow dominates the frame as time passes on - when he can't shake away the feeling of radiant sunlight under all the other colors.

"-Hyung, you're painting those pretty often these days, huh?"

It's the way Ten feels the additional weight on his shoulder before he actually recognises the voice, the chipper tone of none other than Jaemin, specialising in photography (alias he who technically does not belong here).

"Mh, you are doing that pretty frequently lately," Jeno - specialising in sculpting - is quick to follow (also known as he who technically does not belong here, part two). He is peeking at the sketchbook on the scaffold.

It doesn't take long until he feels the metaphorical weight of another pair of eyes on him, a feeling that emits part curiosity, part scrutinising, coming from Renjun, specialising in painting (he who actually goes here). "Oh, that yellow is quite nice, did you mix it yourself?"

"Huh? Let me see, let me see, let me seeeee-!" is soon heard from somewhere far and then close as Donghyuck - specialising in fashion design - jumps closer (he who technically does not belong here, part three).

The sudden crowd around his scaffold is enough for Ten to snap out of his thoughts and right into confusion as he looks around, an emotion that soon eases into amusement. "Lads, will you get off me now? I'm just testing colors," he's quick to say as he gently peels Jaemin off his shoulder, shushing away the others to let him breathe, for goodness' sake.

Testing colors, as if he hasn't been doing the same color for a couple of days now.

"It's pretty in the setting sunlight," Renjun remarks with a smile. "You should draw something with it."

"You could draw me," Donghyuck throws in, wiggling his eyebrows; Ten barely has to count to three before he hears the first bantering between him and Renjun, shaking his head with a humored face.

"Renjunnie is right, though, you should draw something in that tone, it's really pretty," Jaemin hums, his eyes fixated on the various circles - almost-circles, really - that fill up the paper.

Just one of many experiments - diary entries and observations in color, maybe.

"Hm … I'll see about that," Ten comments eventually.

(He would like to - maybe, one day.)

But for now, he notices Jeno's vaguely concerned expression as he his gaze seems to hover over the bickering two, so Ten decides to stand up and clap a few times to garner the attention of the four remaining ones - even though only one of them is technically his student, the rest of his class left early.

"Okay, that's it for today - good work, Renjun, fascinating brushwork today, keep it up - the rest, I still have no idea why you're here, but go home, won't you!"

-----

"They really are impossible, I tell you-" Ten exclaims dramatically through the phone, rolling his eyes. He has the phone on speaker, but even as his background noise isn't as quiet, he still hears the quiet snicker from the other side (maybe he searches for it, too).

"Are you laughing at me, Johnny-" He sounds scandalised, a mock offense being taken. It only increases the laughter he hears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry - it's just, they are the reason you're scared of 'kids'?"

It annoys Ten how he can almost hear the air quotation marks (or does it?).

"If you just- nevermind," he pinches the bridge of his nose, even as there is no one to see it (maybe Johnny still hears it, however). "I told you of the one time they teamed up on me and-"

"-and after hiding them, they gave back your brushes? Unharmed and cleaned with care, not?" Johnny sounds far too amused by the horrifying anecdote that has scarred him for life.

… Okay, it's not that dramatic, but he had had quite a shock when he came to class, only to find none of his painting brushes, faced with four innocently devilish grins instead. And a lot of notes, them turning this into a whole scavenger hunt for what belongs to him in the first place- Well. Okay. It's true that Renjun had taken care of not harming them in the process of their prank (and it was kind of amusing to show off his deduction skills, maybe), yet-

Ten sighs. Okay. Maybe there is no 'yet' and today might be the day he could laugh about it, but he isn't about to admit that.

"If you're only gonna mock me today, I might as well-"

"Nononono, please don't hang up yet!" Johnny is quick to intercept and it's impossible how Ten can almost hear the pleading eyes. "I like to hear your voice, please?"

Perhaps, his heart - anatomical or not - stutters a little bit before he breaks into laughter all over again.

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny …" he sighs out in amused disbelief. "Alright, I'll stay on the phone with you - but only if you tell me about your day, too."

Perhaps, I like your voice, too lingers unsaid in his mind and he begins to wonder if Johnny can feel it through the static, through the quiet little hums that fill the apartment until he hears Kun and Doyoung coming back.

And just like this, his world gets filled with color again.

-----

(Those days feel light - in a heavy way. It's a rich texture of acrylics being used on a white canvas, orange and yellow blending into another to create a warm hue that captures the essence of the painting, whatever it is turning to be. A sunset, a gentle fireplace, heat radiating everywhere. Strong lines tare drawn alongside the slow pouring of light.

It is vivacious like this, a constant set of anticipation for the future - bright.

To him, there isn't anything that compares to thickly layered orange pouring over the scenery, accompanied by a shining yellow that eases the sight, adding a sort of lightness to the colors.

If anything, it feels like the constant affirmation to life, the manifested choice to go through every day with as much vigor as possible. But that doesn't mean that orange is a constant - instead, it intermingles with yellow, sometimes dives into redder hues before showcasing a crispy brown or something completely different, too.

Every day is a new day, one that blends from one to another.)

-----

He isn't in love with Johnny.

Or, it would be a confusing statement to make at this very moment, so he prefers … just not to decide about it at all, leave it in the air until he has a firmer grip on it.

However, it doesn't quite stop him from talking about it, particularly after the recent events of the date (with double question marks), his perhaps-not-that-thought-through words at the end, after the period of avoidance and … well. Whatever it is that keeps the world spinning.

It doesn't stop him from pretending like he has a clue when he actually hasn't.

"You know, Kun, there is a fine line between curiosity and attraction and I am clearly in control of that," Ten laments, holding his spoon into the general direction of the other, shaking in emphasis. In quiet fury, he spoons another piece of his chocolate pudding and devours it.

Kun rolls his eyes, munching on his choice of snacks, some crackers and freshly brewed green tea. "You said it yourself that it's a 'fine line', though - what's so bad about crossing it? How can you be sure you didn't already?" Kun holds a cracker back into Ten's pouting face whose cheeks are stuffed with an influx of sweets.

The older sighs.

"Seriously, Ten, how long are we supposed to talk about your boy problems?" Doyoung asks, squishing himself between the two, half a cake in tow.

The spoon clinks loosely against Doyoung's fork as Ten exasperates. "See? Me talking this long means I'm far from gone and- and that's- …" he exclaims in theatrical demeanour.

"... good?" Kun supplies in the same moment Doyoung guesses, "... bad?"

Ten groans.

"It's just …" he says, continuously poking and picking his pudding apart. "How is he so certain?"

Doyoung shrugs. "Some people have superpowers, some don't," he remarks nonchalantly as he neatly separates a piece of his cake and shovels it into his mouth.

"You mean some are Kun and some aren't?" Ten retorts with a slight grin to which he can feel Kun's eye roll in the background.

"Being or not being me has nothing to do with this," the man in question points out decisively. "Sometimes you know it and sometimes, it takes time to figure it out. It's not like emotions and human relationships are the easiest to figure out."

"Sounds like something a Kun would say," Ten points out the obvious with his best conspiracy voice. He earns a light jab on his arm.

"Yeah, because I just said it," Kun remarks dryly.

"Can we please move on from those things and just watch the movie?" Doyoung intercepts any possible retour from the artist who only lets out a disgruntled noise.

"Yeah, yeah, love you, too-" Ten hums with a chuckle as he grabs the remote control and hits play.

Some things … yeah, he can think about them somewhen.

(Or maybe, never.)

For now, he's glad not to be alone in this moment, to have people to turn to - and not to have lost Johnny's warming presence in his life over his continuous pondering.

-----

"You should come by some time, during breakfast!" Granny Suh shares with a delighted face. It's only her and him for today, an easy back-and-forth of strange minds.

Ten blinks at her. "I asked you a different question," he points out with a chuckle. "How come you think of breakfast now? Are you hungry?"

"Well, I remember someone complaining that they're always eating breakfast alone because the others leave much earlier, so …" she grins in a way that is slightly wicked, but mostly amused. "And our housekeeper was complaining today about how little we all eat, even after Youngho-ah joined, so they may be happy for another mouth to feed."

Ten hums as his eyes are drawn back to his sketchbook, an amused smile on his face. "Now, what is easier to execute - to adjust or to preserve? Perhaps, they would prepare even more food if I were to join, this doesn't seem like a foolproof plan."

"Oh, I daresay habits are worse to break, though this is only my point of view. Doing something for a couple of years, or even just months, usually seem to amount to a set of habits, even if they may try to break them. And besides, if there are less leftovers in the end, doesn't it mean it's a habit well enough to keep?" Granny Suh looks at the artist with a humored expression as he lifts his eyes.

He wonders what habits she - or Johnny - has, hums to himself about his own. He also hums to signalise that he's indeed listening, a quiet nod notifying her to keep going.

"As for your other question, how lonely can a soul feel if they have never been aware of someone else-"

The day fills itself with a light curtain of pastel purple, the color of his thoughts as he walks past the floral wall - his flower paintings, the wall flower project as he calls it.

I've come a long way. I'll go a longer one.

He smiles softly.

-----

When Kun and Doyoung mentioned that he should move out because their current space's gradually becoming far too tight even for them, he didn't expect this to be the outcome. He's grateful that Donghyuck just had something to offer him after he spontaneously decided that his boyfriend and he were going to live together instead of whatever other arrangement Mark made, but … that the 'other arrangement' would be none other than Johnny still seems a little surreal, even after months of rooming together and adjusting to each other's lifestyle as much as they can.

It's strange at first, not to have as many phone calls with the other anymore - or that text messages about mundane things like groceries are being sent to Johnny, not Kun or Doyoung. (Even as he still sent plenty of those to their group chat in the first weeks - only to get a 'got you' before the other chimes in with 'wait, ask Johnny, not us'. He won't quite admit that he misses them; thankfully, they keep their movie night just where it is.) But as awkwardness is replaced with familiarity, he begins to enjoy himself, to come back to a home that begins to resemble something to call ours.

Perhaps that's why he tries so hard not to - not to be like … this.

Instead, he clings to every joy he can have, tries to keep the light, to keep away whatever else is looming in the back of his mind. It's not so much trying to reconcile with this peculiar feeling, but to suppress it - an attempt to make it invisible. Because whenever the words form in his head, trying to explain and express this feeling in something other than muted colors of blackness alone, he stutters - he can't possibly try to let it out, expose it to light, only to see it in all its monstrosity.

(To see all the helplessness he cannot phrase.)

Pieces still slip, a smile that looks hollow and crest-fallen, crossed out sketches he can't hide fast enough - and he knows it, frustratingly, but-

He has no strength to face it. Even as it doesn't simply sit back and simmer down to nothing, even as it piles and piles … until one day, it bites him back even harder - in the form of torn sketches, scattered and littered not in his room, but the living room, the biggest room of the apartment.

There is wicked joy in seeing the destruction to his creation, but he isn't so sure if there is actual relief in tearing apart those pages filled with various intent - has he not guarded his art like a precious jewel? A long-awaited newborn? Like an anthem to the world, a blurry statement of his mind?

But what does his mind even account for?

He rips out another page, frustration dwindling inside of him when he sees just what is in his hands now - a quick sketch of hortensias in the rain, a memento from when he first began to see himself inside the flower, when he started to pour something of his soul into it in hopes it would alleviate something, but-

His eyes narrow, glaring - his breath hitches, wanting to tear it apart in tiny, tiny pieces, as if this would change anything at all.

It would be a temporary relief, maybe.

But he doesn't get to it as he feels a familiar hand on his shoulder soon enough, a firm pressure that makes him snap out of - whatever this is (he doesn't want to name it). As he lifts his gaze-

"-John-"

And everything spirals. The few exchanged words change nothing - if anything, they make things worse (alll the clearer) as he has no answer to spare.

Do you trust me?

He can't find it in himself to say no. If trust means to reveal everything about himself without so much as secrets and backdoors, then he isn't sure if he even trusts himself.

-----

(Some days are light watercolors as they spread over the paper, unrestricted like a child's play, a river. It simply flows - somehow, somewhen, into no particular direction, following the laws of nature more often than not. It's yellow, it's bright, it's lovely.

Some days are thick acrylics of dark color as they are coating him in his entirety, pulling him in a soundless, warmless embrace. A void that removes all sound, as it is unwavering. He drowns, and he cannot hear himself screaming.

He never does.

It doesn't feel like suffocating - not exactly, at least. It is much more of a sudden wave of something that crosses his mind which turns everything grey grey grey and overpaints all colors with an unpleasant blackness. Even when he closes his eyes, he cannot escape it.

Even when he opens his eyes, he sees a stark whiteness with nothing and everything at once - it hurts him and he wants to scream.

He doesn't; he never does.

There is just him and his mind, and that's worse enough.

He doesn't know what to do.)

-----

Half to his surprise, half to his expectation (it's still his home, too), Johnny comes back - but not quite so alone like he left. It's a wonder that he met Kun on the way, but Ten makes a mental note to say thank you to Kun however. It's a bit unfair that he always looks after him and he can't quite return the favor, but … maybe one day.

Until then, the best he can do is probably … sort things out. Get a grip on things.

Only that he honestly doesn't know where or how to start and he's both remorseful and thankful that Johnny doesn't inquire more - about what he saw, about what happened, about everything.

Even though the living room is as pristine as ever, in the first few days after, he feels the heaviness of ripped paper around him whenever he enters it. Perhaps that's how he comes to spend more and more time at the university for when Johnny is at work, too.

It feels too lonely to be on his own for now.

As he's now more frequently at university, he begins to roam other departments than his own as well and he can't help but to notice that he's met with rather curious … followers? He isn't quite sure where to place the eyes that seem to follow him a part of his way, staring figurative daggers into his back.

He sighs.

"You know, if you have something to say, you could just … do so," he remarks at last, turning to face a pair of guilty eyes. Jaemin still looks far too bright-smiled for the occasion, though.

"Sorry, hyung! Just saw how you were exiting our latest ground floor exhibition and I was wondering what you're up to and wanted to say hi! So, hi! How are things?" Jaemin chatters away. He is way too chipper for some unforeseen reason, but it does ease some of the heaviness in Ten's chest, to see that Jaemin is continuously bright pastel with a chunk of thoughtfulness - one that seems to glimmer up in his eyes right now. Ten chooses his words carefully.

"Yeah, I was just looking - you got quite an interesting project up," he decides to answer with a bit of an easier smile.

"Oh, you mean this whole inspiration thing? Yeah, I think our sunbaenims got all caught up in this 'finding inspiration everywhere' kind of deal," Jaemin hums in return. "May I walk with you for a while?"

Ten nods, now inquiry sneaking into his own eyes as he looks at the younger one. "So, if you don't mind telling me, what drives you? I found your pictures, but it was a bit hard to pinpoint," he admits as they walk slowly across the campus, Jaemin following him wherever he is headed to.

He remembers the various assembly of … everything from pictures of Jeno, Renjun and Donghyuck - Mark as well - to (admittedly beautiful) stairways, some morning's breakfast, another evening's lunch. A particular stone at the sideway, another piece of art by someone else. Jaemin's little corner in the exhibition feels like a diary of the mundane, if he were to be honest - not quite like the others, compared to abstract photography, daring angles and eccentric models and motifs.

The younger laughs in reply. "Oh, you're not the first to wonder, don't worry," Jaemin chuckles lightly as he adds a little skip to his step. "Hm … how can I say? Memory, maybe? I just want to preserve the moment - keep it for a little longer."

"Guess you don't quite run out of inspiration then," the artist chuckles.

Jaemin hums in agreement. "Huh, I guess not. I took the 'inspiration everywhere' quite literally. I mean, it might not be much compared to others since I figure the value is more personal, so I'll see where it takes me, but … it's important to me."

It makes Ten smile a little more - at least one of them doesn't quite struggle. He ruffles the other's hair. "I'm glad to hear you have something for yourself," he remarks, but he does feel the questioning eyes of the younger one on him like he's actually poking (his very soul) his cheeks or something.

"What about you, hyung? It doesn't seem like you're … uhm," Jaemin hesitates. "It's just in, err, all of our minds lately, but you seem … not to be doing well. Is everything okay? Markie also offered to talk with Johnny-hyung and give him a piece of his mind if that's what you're worrying about."

It's the absolute stern way he says those words, with every resolution ever needed, that makes Ten laugh in the end, ruffling Jaemin's hair.

"You noticed?" he deflects, a curious hum to his tone.

The sky feels a bit greyer at this moment.

"Of course we do, hyung! You're our favorite tutor of all!"

"Only because I don't send you lot away from my class-"

"-I can't deny that. But it's true! We want to help you if we can!" Jaemin insists nonetheless, puffing himself up to defend the pride of his friends and himself.

It only makes Ten chuckle a little more before it morphs to a crystal clear sound, an airy kind of laugh. The sky seems to brighten up, its hues blending into a bright blue.

"First things first," he speaks to the puzzled expression of Jaemin at last. "Johnny isn't really part of the problem-"

Jaemin gasps. "-so he is-"

"-please let me finish. I'm not avoiding him right now, if that's what you were wondering, too - I actually should spend more time in my studio and finish my projects, anyway, so there's that, but I also just don't want to be … alone at home right now. It's kind of complicated," he tries to explain. There is a knot forming in his throat.

Every time, the words get stuck before they can reach his tongue.

"… You don't think I can understand it?" Jaemin asks, trying not to let the hurt shine through, but it still does, a fracture of it reaching Ten's ears and his smile saddens a bit.

Just like with Johnny … similar to it.

He can't remember a time he actually talked to anyone about it, or if he ever will. Kun and Doyoung are probably the closest to assume, but they don't know about the many blackened canvases in his studio, either.

"Let's just say … it's hard to find inspiration right now, or come to terms with myself - both, actually." It's the most he can say and he's met with an ohh kind of sound. There seems to be a lot on Jaemin's mind, in the way he furrows his eyebrows.

"I hope you can find what you're looking for, hyung," the younger decides to say at last, a crinkling smile on his face.

Ten is both feeling relieved and a little unsettled.

One day, one day …

But today isn't the day.

-----

Deadlines keep him busy for most of the time, pushing back to even consider attempting to think about it - an attempt, always just an attempt, never a thought - as days pass without so much as a change. The world keeps spinning, time keeps flowing, he keeps going.

There is nothing he can do about it for now, anyway, more pressing matters at hand as he leaves home early to prepare some things for class today.

"Oh, Renjun? You're here already?" Ten remarks when he enters the classroom to a single person painting, an alteration from the usual emptiness he's greeted with when he arrives this early. But he doesn't get a greeting back, furrowed eyebrows creating a crease in concentration in the younger's face.

He quietly closes the door behind him, making sure to walk as silently as possible on his way to lurk over the other's shoulder. It's everyday he sees Renjun being focused on his paintings, though he feels like there is something particular about it today.

Then, he's face-to-face with a radiant, bright smile, immortalised on linen and acrylics. A strong yellow is building up the foundation in form of a sunflower for a likeness of Donghyuck that seems to glow on his own. He feels like he can feel fondness seeping right from each stroke, a careful curation of how Renjun is viewing the other.

Ten can't help the smile that grows on his face and he waits for a moment where the brush isn't so dangerously close to the canvas before tapping Renjun on the shoulder. The other flinches.

"-Hyung! Since when-" he seems startled by the presence of his tutor and Ten only snickers a little. Being the one to surprise sure is nice when his list of being the surprised one is far too long to bother with.

"I tried to call you earlier, but you were so immersed - so that's what you're working on? I assume your three limpets won't come today, then?" Ten leans against a table nearby, giving the other a bit more space as his eyes glance back and forth between Renjun and his art.

Renjun exhales. "-Yeah, I told them not to come today …" he replies, scratching the back of his head. "I thought you knew what I'm doing, though."

Ten only raises his arms, palms all out in defense. "I may be nosy here and now, but I'm not that nosy, it's your secret project after all - you cover it up pretty well, too."

Renjung scrunches his nose. "Promise you won't tell Hyuckie until I'm done?"

A silent pleading in his eyes - and who is Ten to deny his star pupil (and questionable favorite) this simple request? He moves his fingers to zip up his mouth, to which Renjun only groans quietly. It only makes him throw away the figurative key, too, even as he's soon to speak up again.

"My lips are sealed," Ten promises not without a chuckle. "Didn't think you could be that bold, though. Is it fine with Mark?" Words discarded in a careless manner, maybe, an impulsive stroke of paint - just to see where it would land, how it would look like.

What it would mean - or stir.

"Why should he not? We're all friends with Mark-hyung," Renjun replies with furrowed eyebrows as he puts away his brushes to let the new layer of paint dry first.

Ten's expression grows more contemplative as he considers the words carefully. "I mean, to have your boyfriend painted by someone else? Like … this?" he remarks.

If possible, Renjun only furrows his eyebrows even more, crossing his arms a little.

"Hyung … what do you think that I think of Hyuckie?"

Perhaps, that's when he knows he might have confused something.

Ten furrows his eyebrows, too, though he raises an eyebrow soon enough, undecided between obvious and perhaps, not so much. "Uhm … that you're one-sided in love with him?"

Renjun's expression morphs to complete neutrality.

"Like, romantically?"

"… Uh-huh? I mean, it's not like it's any of my business and if you can get along with him however-"

"-Hyung, no, oh heavens, stop, that's-" Renjun lets out exasperated, a genuine expression of mortification on his face, and is that … disgust? He shakes his head even more as he buries his face in his hands, muttering in utter disbelief. "-I should-, hyung, where do you- I could never- UGH-"

This is certainly the moment Ten knows that something is definitely amiss.

"-The whole time, did you think I-" Renjun still shudders. "-Good riddance, you- hyung!"

"Okay, okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for assuming, but-" Ten tries to defend the apparently little honor he has left, raising his hands higher, palms all out. "Wait, no - no buts, I'm sorry for assuming, I shouldn't have done that. You guys are really close, so I guess it just got me thinking …"

Renjun still shudders, but the headshaking decreases, so Ten counts it as recovery. "-It's - well, it's not fine, but you're good, hyung," he remarks with a little sigh, a kinder smile returning on his face. "I guess I see where you could have gotten that impression, specifically over-" He gestures at the painting.

Like a painted confession. … If only?

Ten nods, though there is a curiosity that he can't shake away as easily now - he knows he shouldn't inquire too much, but …

"So, what is he to you, then? If you don't mind sharing," he can't help but to ask. Thankfully, the other nods and his smile steadies a bit more.

Renjun scratches the back of his head. "I mean, he's … important to me. Very. To be honest, I can't stand him from time to time and then there's nothing I'd like to do more than to yeet him to the moon or to Mark-hyung, but … most of the time, I just like to be around him? I know it's odd with everything, but he's … I guess he's comfort to me," he tries to sort it out (perhaps to himself, too; Ten wonders if he ever thought about it - maybe, maybe not). The younger looks at him at last, determinedly eye-to-eye. "I'm not in love with him, though. Perhaps … he's my muse? If you want to call it like this."

He shrugs. "Besides, it's not like you're legally contracted to date the person you're in love with, even if the feeling happens to be mutual."

"Huh … uh?" Ten lets out with a contemplative hue, words on automatic response, even as there is emptiness to his voice. "Dating feels like a natural progression of things."

Renjun squints before he scrunches his nose. "Uh, only because society makes you think of it like that - media and everything just kind of gives you a very one-dimensional picture, but it's not like you can't just work out something on your own, as long as everyone involved agrees to it," he huffs out. Ten wonders if the frown is more directed at something not quite in the room instead of at him.

The older looks quietly at the other. "You read up a lot and thought about it a lot, huh?"

And for once, he sees a vaguely tired, exhausted smile on the other's face who never seems to be tired for this class, ever since Ten started here around two years ago. "It's not like we get all that information handed on a silver platter, so of course we have to do some work ourselves. Don't know if it's 'right' with everyone, but it feels right to me, so-" he shrugs once more. "Works for me."

Ten nods, joining the sigh that fills the room briefly. It isn't like he hasn't gotten his fair share of … whatever word goes around, with how vital he sees both his now-former flatmates and best friends (even as he might not voice it that much) and the hesitation - irritation surrounding Johnny.

"There's a lot to learn and unpack, huh?" Though Ten isn't so sure at who he's directing those words.

Like painting strictly in a certain way, following a certain school, only to realise that art doesn't have to be a mimicry of reality. A white canvas is - after all - a white canvas. Endless possibilities - but the artist is the one choosing the colors, the frame, the eventual image (or non-image) it would represent.

Now, curiosity seems to seep into Renjun's expression as he moves a little bit closer.

"You've been out of your mind for a while now, hyung, is everything okay?" he asks, looking part-worried and part-just-nosy.

Ten sighs yet another time, an amused smile eventually placing itself on his features as he thinks about it, remembering the conversation he had with Jaemin a few days ago. "I wonder? There is just something I can't quite figure out, but I'll come around. Hopefully."

Renjun hums in contemplation. "… Maybe you should paint what's on your mind? Don't you tell us that every month or so?"

Ten raises an eyebrow at this kind of reversal of words that are normally his tactic to get everyone in class to do something at least in the time they spend in this room. "Oh? I'm not sure if I can- or wait, actually, this might not be so bad …" he begins to mutter to himself.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask first, maybe.

-----

Putting his thoughts to canvas is something that keeps him above water most of the time (until it fails him), and even as he feels a lump in his throat whenever he thinks about a certain array of feelings, there is something else that he could try to put an expression to.

Or, somebody. Somebody that keeps circling his mind.

It isn't like he has never thought about painting Johnny in the first place. The many sketches of his side profile, of his body and of various details like his eyes are enough proof of the fact that he has thought about it - in the very least, he's been observing him enough that he could do a rough sketch of Johnny without him having to be present. But to consider the actual execution of something other than quick sketch feels surreal, wonder claiming him - whether or not it would step over an unnamed line he shouldn't have crossed.

Yet, Renjun's peculiarly right - painting helps him to understand his surroundings better, to transport feelings onto a projection surface that he can see and form to his desire.

(It makes not having such a thing all the harder to cope with - a different form of helplessness when he does fail to express himself.)

The idea doesn't quite leave his mind.

-----

Perhaps, he should have had a longer conversation to build it up, delicately imply the topic of paintings in general - Johnny likes his wall flower project quite much, after all - before moving on to-

"Can I paint you?" Ten blurts out.

It's a quiet, nice evening in the apartment, with Johnny cleaning the table and Ten storing away random pieces that are the result of a week's worth of boredom. Their eyes meet. Johnny blinks - once, twice, three times. He probably would have blinked a fourth time if not for Ten's visibly growing impatience.

"Come again?" Johnny asks.

It makes Ten groan, accentuated with a sigh. He steps closer to the table, stopping a few inches short before crashing entirely into the taller. "I said," he tries again, his clear voice resonating through the room. "Can I paint you?"

The second time does strange wonders - for once, it manages to unfreeze the giant from his spot, inadvertently making him topple a few steps backwards. Second, he opens his mouth, yet the sound does not return immediately. Third, his eyes widen nearly comically, in accordance with his mouth. Realisation seems to sink in, Ten assumes.

Fourth, the bear-like human now resembles a fish - a fish out of water, mouth agape. Ten has not expected this to be possible.

…

Back on track.

"Johnny? Blink twice if you can hear me," he lets out, arms crossed in defense. This isn't such a weird request, is it? … Or, like, is it, actually? Are paintings of people this weird now? … Wait, can't be-

He almost misses the two blinks in quick succession, lost in his thoughts, but he claps delightedly as it works. "Nice, okay! Can I paint you? Blink twice for yes," he tries a third time.

Unfortunately, Johnny just stares blankly at him.

"Explain yourself," Ten stares up several inches, just to meet widened eyes. He tries to look menacingly (he probably doesn't).

"-You should explain yourself! It's pretty out of the blue, you know!" Johnny finally speaks up, color rising to the visible spots of his face as he rubs his neck, eyes averting at last.

Ten sighs, but the other is not exactly wrong. He didn't build this up very well. So he tries to reel back a little, inhaling deeply as he thinks about what to say. He could mention - that, but, actually … no. He can't do that.

He decides for the safer route. "I feel like I can reach out to you more easily when holding a paintbrush. You know, my way to understand someone works … sort of best through art. So … can I paint you?"

Johnny doesn't look quite as convinced, but Ten feels how he's beginning to give in - a little by little, maybe … "Please, please, please?"

The older sighs.

"… Fine. If we can arrange a schedule, I'll see what I can do about it. But you won't be too disappointed and you won't hate me in the case I drop out?"

Ten smiles up to him warmly, wrapping him in a brief hug. "That's enough for me! You'll do great, don't worry about it."

And there is a lighter step for the remaining hours of the day when the soft shade of a pink sky morphs into an illuminescent blue before it turns to the typical velvet night cloak of not-quite-black. A regular day-to-night cycle, but Ten falls asleep easier on this day, watching how the stars place themselves on the firmament before he closes his curtains.

Things will … work out somehow.

One day, he will find the words - or the picture - to express himself eventually. One day … one of those days. For now, he can rest a little easier to know that there are some things he has to arrange. For now, he will focus on one thing to figure out - one after another.

-----

In the following days, Ten has to make note of when he can use the studio that he shares with someone else. Furthermore, he has to make sure the four infamous students don't quite get a word of it - at least for the first session. He doesn't need five sets of prying eyes on Johnny when he didn't sound as sure about this to begin with.

(Afterwards? Well, he has no expectations to keep things under wraps for long.)

They manage to set up a schedule that works for the both of them, a little close to the evening. The meetings would be twice a week, lasting about two hours - afterwards, they would go home together, perhaps eat somewhere on the way if both feel like it.

Before he notices, time flies to the designated day.

And Johnny stands in his studio, for the first time.

Ten lets him into the somewhat organised mess of him and his fellow artist, tubes and buckets of paint stashed here and now as canvas are found in nooks and crannies, open on display - some finished and set out to dry, some unfinished and yet in need of some more strokes. He wonders if Johnny glances over the ones that are left in a distant corner, unfinished pieces - no proud works in progress, but … abandoned, neglected, postponed until further notice (read: never).

"So you work here?" Johnny wonders out loud.

"Sometimes - sometimes, I take a few downstairs for when I tutor my class," Ten replies as he guides the other gently to where a chair is placed in the middle of two scaffolds, in front of a window that nearly covers the whole wall. "Have a seat!" he tries to sound casual, though it's hard to suppress a laughter when Johnny eyes the simple lightwood chair a little suspiciously.

But once he sits down, everything falls a little into place, too.

Instead of going to one of the scaffolds, Ten picks up a stool from underneath a working table, placing it near the window before he sits down, sketchbook and pencil in hand.

"Today, I'm just taking some sketches of you - feel free to move as much as you want, I'll catch up with what I can," he explains, though he feels like there are questions bursting out of the other nonetheless - a sort of unsure impatience growing on the other's face as he tenses and eases, as if to see how he can sit comfortably.

"You can talk, by the way, I don't mind - I'd rather encourage it, actually, working in complete silence doesn't always work for me," he hums, amused by the relieved sigh that follows.

"Thank goodness, I wasn't sure if I can do total silence for this," Johnny exclaims, a crooked smile on his face. Ten stares a little before he opens his sketchbook, flapping pages until he finds a blank one. He places one leg above the other, so he can lean the sketchbook a little bit against his knee, eyes always flitting back to the other. He begins to draw.

"So … what about the wall, how do you work on that?" the older asks, eyes marveling over everything, even as he tries to keep eye contact - his gaze wanders around often enough that it makes Ten chuckle a little bit.

"I usually go and paint right there, though sometimes I practice a few of the more complicated ones before I potentially mess up when it gets real," he answers truthfully, shifting a little in accordance to the quick lines he draws, rough figures that sometimes resemble Johnny. Sometimes, it is a mere silhouette, or the beginning of something that could be human, more gesture and posture than someone specific - the very way Johnny carries himself as he goes from tense to more relaxed. Sometimes, it's just little details that he picks up - a smile, the way his eyes turn or look at something, look at him-

He only stops his pencil when he aims to find direction in his quick sketching.

"By the way, here's also not where I work with the kids - I could show you the space later, too, if you're interested. I believe you already know Donghyuck, but, uhm, fair warning, the others may come by whenever they hear of this. … Not that they factually attend my class."

Johnny chuckles rather amused. "You mean the ones that 'scare you'?"

Did he - air quotation marks? Really?

Ten points the pointy end of his pencil at Johnny. "You're on thin ice here, Mister- but, to update you, yeah, they're not … that bad. Too attentive sometimes, but I guess it's alright."

Now, it's Johnny's gaze that stops to wander, looking at him instead of the erratic here-to-there. "I think they care quite a lot about you. Perhaps that's why they come by, too," he dares to assume, earning a scoff from the artist.

"Please, they're mainly here to bother Renjun or something, that guy barely gets a rest from them-"

"-but they could still come to see you, too," Johnny softly remarks.

Ten looks at the unwavering gaze of the other, ducking his head a little to flip to a new page - the lines coming easier the more he sketches, the more Johnny eases, too.

"… Maybe," Ten sighs out at last. "I guess they're actually … nice. I guess they've been checking on me here and now." Though not only them, but also Kun and Doyoung - the ones who have the biggest hunch of what's going on.

Johnny's growing smile morphs with the light of the sun shining through the window, a serene kind of yellow that reminds him of liquid gold - sweet honey. The sort that feels a little impossible to grasp, a little translucent.

Ten's breath halts, though his fingers keep flitting over the page, adding lines and hues - as he exhales, the corners of his own lips rise a little, too.

"I'm glad you have people who look after you," Johnny says and Ten feels like it's this kind of moment he wants to capture - understand the most. Hands loosely folded in his lap, positioned a little laid-back, though not entirely slouched down, eyes with such a clarity - and fondness.

Why fondness?

(Why not?)

There is something on his mind, but he doesn't say it - yet.

(Thank you for looking after me, too.)

-----

(Green feels a lot like a new start - at least if he is trying to imitate the various hues of grass, of budding flowers and the leavy crowns of the flowers he likes to paint so often, growing from a thin green stem upwards.

It's not necessarily warming - green, after all, isn't exactly the warmest color by common perception, but there is a freshness in it that cannot be quite achieved by a solely warm color palette, wandering only in hues between red and yellow.

No, when he paints with green, he feels hopeful as he's remembering spring breezes and early walks among the thawing morning dew.

He closes his eyes, inhales - and almost feels how life is beginning, a curiosity in and for itself.)

-----

Not quite defying his expectations, it's as early as the next time that they're graced with yet another presence. Even as Donghyuck doesn't seem to let the other so much as breathe in silence, Ten is a little bit glad they're not caught in-between some awkwardness with one of the other three since he isn't so sure how much they know each other. But ever since Donghyuck had a little hand in setting up the living arrangement between him and Johnny, he heard the younger student talk a lot more about Johnny.

"You could paint us together!" the fashion design major is nothing short of shameless as he too easily inserts himself into the picture - and Ten has to admit, even as he looks sort of ridiculous sitting on the ground in a pose he deems as 'cool', Donghyuck has a talent for modeling, seemingly knowing how to strike one's attention, show himself from his best side.

He sometimes wonders why he's more interested in the behind-the-scenes of a garment than wearing it, but there is a different kind of sparkle in his eyes whenever he's sketching and sewing, so … he kind of gets it, too.

Johnny ruffles the youngest's hair with a quiet laugh. "Easy now, you sure you want to hang out with us twice a week, for a couple of hours, just sitting around?"

"Yeah, don't you have someone else to bother?" Ten remarks with a fake annoyed voice that is easily negated by the humored smile on his face.

(He also won't take it from Renjun who's still working on his surprise.)

Donghyuck all but frowns - pouts, really - as he goes from acting cool to being kind of annoyed (but cute), the palms of his hands supporting his chins as he sits up a bit. "You're so not fun," he says dryly.

Ten rolls his eyes. "Nobody invited you, you just followed us here."

At that, Donghyuck raises a finger. "Wrong, I followed Johnny-hyung and you just happened to be here," he corrects with a smug grin.

It only makes Ten raise his eyebrow, his fingers not quite stopping to move, the gentle scratching of pencil on paper accompanying the chatty atmosphere.

"Same thing, Hyuck," he lets out exasperatedly, gesturing for Johnny to move a little.

"Mh-hm, you're both not wrong," the oldest one remarks with a stifled laugh as tries to follow suit, showing a different side of him with a growing confidence that makes the pencil slightly stutter on its way before Ten focuses on what he's supposed to do. Even as he rolls his eyes more often with Donghyuck in the frame, the picture unfolding before him causes him smile a little more than usual.

Perhaps they remind him of two teddy bears, with their hoodies and comfortable clothes as Johnny had time to change from his work attire and Donghyuck seems to have chosen comfort over style as well.

"I'm telling Markie and Junnie that you're mean to me," Donghyuck says with as much dramatic flair as he can fit into those syllables (which, apparently, is a lot) and it makes them all burst simultaneously into laughter.

If Ten messed up a sketch because of that, he's more humored than anything.

"Yeah, yeah, what is he going to do? Resign from my class and take you lot with you, so I can have peace?" Ten provokes the other.

(Well. That would hurt quite a bit, but he's not about to tell them - yet. Maybe never.)

Yet another time, Johnny ruffles Donghyuck's hair with a chuckle, much to the younger's chagrin expressed in a muffled complaint. "'m sorry," Johnny manages to let out the most ingenuine apology Ten has ever heard.

And Donghyuck is telling him this much.

Ten doesn't even notice how the minutes turn into hours eventually, the sketching soon settling on a particular pose he'd like to focus on for the picture. The sun is already beginning to set as a phone call reaches Johnny, making him step out for a moment, hushed voices blurring behind the closed door.

It only leaves him and Donghyuck in the studio, the younger helping him to set things back to order for the other artist that works here, too.

Ten really does appreciate the help, even as there is a wicked smile that seems to bore itself into his back. Eventually, he sighs and turns around.

"Yeah?"

Even if Donghyuck hasn't spoken a lot during their cleaning session, he sure has a lot to tell.

"I told Markie he's totally your type!" he exclaims, having the decency to speak a little lower than an usual Hyuck-esque squeal, but that doesn't stop him from jumping up and down. "I mean, it was a guess, really, but I couldn't imagine that you wouldn't get along, but to think that you would ask him to be your model - I'm a little bit offended I wasn't first, though-"

Ten looks at him with the highest raised eyebrow possible. "Hyuck."

"-I mean, I was here from the very first day Junnie attended your class, but I guess-"

"Hyuck," Ten exclaims a little louder to which Donghyuck finally stops talking, although it doesn't quite stop the smug grin plastered on his face. The older sighs, but there is a smile on his face, faint and lingering. "I didn't get the chance to say it yet but, uhm, thanks for arranging my move somehow, it's been a great help, but- it's not really like you think."

Or is it? He scratches the back of his head.

"Well, not really yet, or something-something."

The younger's eyes turn a little more thoughtful, though he's still grinning - but gentler, maybe. "Yeah, I know - or I guess," he hums, perhaps a little conspiratorially. "Like, I wouldn't be surprised if you happened to become a romantic couple along the way, but - I'm just happy you look better than before, hyung."

Surprise begins to color Ten's face, the words of both Jaemin and Renjun now resonating in his head. Huh …

"-We can't have you be more boring than you usually are-" comes through the wicked voice of Donghyuck - which initiates a little chase-around in the studio as they ignore the door squeaking open, an irritated Johnny appearing on its doorstep.

But Ten is laughing, carefree.

-----

The next meetings are all intermingled with one presence or another - either in singles, pairs, trios or just everyone of them. Sometimes, even Mark, Kun or Doyoung pay a visit and those are the days where he barely gets to paint, too busy entertaining all of them with some tea and crackers before he shushes them onto their ways and goes home with Johnny.

But even as it slows down the progress, he doesn't mind it so much - once they're in Johnny's car, the older driving, Ten is still struck with a little muse as he sketches in his smaller sketchbook. Details he hasn't noticed before, things that he wants to remember and only came out in this cozy kind of setting. They all grow to each other in this little place on earth and it warms his heart to see - even as he might as well never admit it.

There are still meetings of just the two of them - arguably the most productive ones, among the ones where it's only Renjun who gives some decent suggestions and is mostly quiet (though Ten wonders if the piercing gaze of two painters isn't a lot for Johnny, but he hasn't complained so far).

It feels more empty than before, those moment of not-quite-but-close-to silence, now that there is familiarity in the noise. Nonetheless, easy chatter settles between them here and now, between observing eyes and questioning words.

"So, you've been tutoring since two years now?" Johnny inquires, a curious look on his face as he tilts his head a bit.

He's been in roughly the same position for a few meetings now, a little sidewards, but his face inadvertently turns to face Ten as they talk.

"Yep, a former professor of mine offered me the position once it became vacant and thus … here we go. I guess we're colleagues now or something?" Ten hums with a quiet laugh from behind the scaffold, his sketchbook long traded for a canvas that gets filled with more details and colors every time.

He looks a little sideways to note how Johnny is seated, the way his legs are not quite as parallel to another, compared to when he first sat in that chair.

Moreso, he feels how Johnny eases into this whole arrangement with every time and Ten smiles, with every piece he can gather about the other. It's the sound of Johnny humming in acknowledgement, leading Ten's eyes upwards to the thoughtful expression lacing his gentle features.

"Do you regret it?" the older wonders out loud.

Ten changes the brush as he thinks, a contemplative noise escaping him.

"Sometimes - but mostly, no, I don't," he says, maybe a little surprised by himself. As much as he can complain about the students - the students and Renjun-adjacents -, in the end, they add color to his world, challenge him every time they go with or against him. Even if he can be annoyed about rebellion, he's more awestruck by what turns out from it, the pride and confidence and creativity that lays in each of them, if only willing to let it reign for once. "They can be quite annoying, but for most part … they're inspirational in their own way. Sometimes I'm too overwhelmed to see it, though."

Johnny looks at him, a fondness seeping out from his eyes that Ten isn't unaware of - a feeling the other is more openly showing here and then, is showing now, and Ten doesn't avert his gaze immediately in unknowingness of what to do.

He still has no definite clue, but instead, he's looking at him in quiet observation.

I'm going to figure it out.

"I'm glad to hear," Johnny exhales softly, lips curling upwards in a tender manner.

Ten's breath stops a bit - just enough to try and memorise this sight forevermore. He hums when his head drops back behind the canvas, a fine brush working out the facial expressions of the other. Light streaks to accentuate the softness, but there is determination, too, his own eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he sinks into silence for a little bit.

He doesn't know if he truly begins to understand, but there is relief nonetheless when he finishes the face at last, surrounded by fluffy brown curls in a thick brown hue that reminds him of hot chocolate (that reminds him of the central part of a sunflower).

-----

(There is a lot to be found in blue.

It commonly describes two concepts that are regarded as endless - the sea and the sky. Some languages have a plentitude of words just for this color alone, with its various hues that seem to mean a lot of things at once. It can be closer to black - it can be closer to white - it can be closer to grey - it can be closer to purple, or maybe green.

It can be blue - and it mustn't be.

People find blue in a lot of places and perhaps the omnipresence of the color is what attracts him to it, a little bit. Blue is a cold color, but it doesn't have to be. It can be found in shades of lilac, on the verge of dripping over to crimson, somewhere along the lines of teal.

His hands are covered in blue streaks, though the word alone is saying so much and so little at the same time - which blue is it today?

He finds comfort in knowing that blue cannot be possibly described, in either its richness or lightness, and he paints his day with this color when nothing particular stands out, which makes it all the more special. When he can't quite grasp the hue of the day, but that's okay, too. He gets there, one day. He doesn't have to, always.)

-----

He left the shared living house and the Suhs a little earlier today, the sun still on a more gentle rise towards its height as he stumbles over-

"Jeno? What are you doing here?" Ten exclaims once he enters the classroom to the familiar scenery, although not quite … alone. "I hope you're not checking on me, too," he raises his eyebrow a little and earns a chuckle in return.

Jeno waves the phone in his hand and gestures to the spread-out artworks in front of and surrounding him. "Nah, Hyuck just asked me to take some photos of Renjun's work before he arrives."

Ten raises an eyebrow. "Why that?" he questions, his steps carefully avoiding the many canvases on the ground as he navigates towards his own spot.

The younger student just shrugs.

"Something with a special project of his? I owe him something, so he convinced me to come earlier," he remarks, the quiet electric mimicry of a shutter audible in the silence surrounding them, only filled by easy steps and the shuffle of papers.

"Huuuuh … everyone and their little secret projects," Ten lets out amused, eyes set on Jeno. "How's yours going on?"

He looks up from his phone, a slightly crooked, wide smile on his face that makes his eyes crinkle to crescents. "Coming together, thanks for helping me out last time," he gives Ten a thumbs-up before moving to the next artwork.

Ten shrugs bemusedly and chuckles. "No need to thank me, I'm glad I could be of any help."

"Well, I am a bit useless with colors since I rarely put paint on my sculptures, so …" Jeno hums as he clicks another time, checks it, moves on.

"Jaemin will love it, I'm pretty sure," Ten reassures the younger, now mirroring the thumbs-up himself. "But I really don't know what Hyuck is planning. Another special gown?"

Jeno laughs in this easy way of his. "Sort of? Sorry, can't tell - I mean, you know of two of our special projects already, so let's keep the others a secret from you," he says with a humorous and light-hearted tone, even though he might as well have dared him not to dig further.

Ten can respect that, an easy grin playing with the corners of his lips, hands lifted in a manner of defeat. "Alright, I'm not gonna snoop further - but, you know about Renjun's?"

"By accident, but he made me swear not to tell anyone - well, but you know it already, so it should be fine I guess," he shrugs idly as he moves to the next canvas. "Can you help me place them back, by the way? I'm not sure anymore where they all belong to …"

"Sure, sure," Ten hums.

It's such a wondrous thing, to do things for someone else … huh? To center one's art around a specific kind of feeling - a particular person, or a group.

Jeno leaves soon after, just a few minutes before the first students trek into the classroom, Renjun among them, as yet another day rolls around.

A clear pastel blue is accompanying them throughout the day, lightness mixed with hues of white.

-----

The sky is painting a mass of grey onto the windows as heavy rain pours down constantly. Ten and Johnny are lucky to arrive in the studio before the first rain truly broke out, now a constant pitter-patter in the background.

"We can take our time today - also in case the rain doesn't clear up soon," Ten informs him of the absence of the other artist for the day as they sit in the growing silence, the more concentrated Ten becomes. The artificial lighting is warm and as close to daylight as it gets, but there is still some wayward dullness in the seldomly flickering light.

Johnny nods as he takes his place on the designated chair, a familiar pattern to their routine. Ten wonders whether or not it will feel like something is missing once they're done, but that is something to worry about another time.

Truth is, for the painting, he doesn't actually need Johnny around anymore. He finished his likeness the last time they came together, a gentle expression cladded in soft brown hues and surrounded by a yellow kind of gleam. Johnny's face is looking a little upwards, lips parted upwards in a serene smile as his posture reveals lightness and comfort. He's looking at a sun forming a flower, a particular yellow being used for the petals as he used a darker shade of the same tone as lining.

But even as everything seems complete … it doesn't feel like it, so he asks the other to continue coming, even as he never dares to show him the painting itself.

Not yet, not yet …

Even as there is nothing quite coming out of his brush, he still observes Johnny more closely, the way he moves, the small gestures he isn't sure if Johnny himself is aware of - all in wonder to see if there is something he missed, something that is supposed to the in the picture as well.

It's oozing of comfort and warmth, and he isn't quite sure what there is to add.

"Is there something on your mind?"

Johnny's voice interrupts the endless circle he's in, head lifting to a worried glance. "Do you need a break? I wonder if it's very appealing to paint when the sky is like this?" he hears how Johnny rambles on, words stringing to sentences, to even more sentences, in a quiet, calm rhythm that helps him settle, too.

Ten blinks, once or twice. "Oh- yeah, a break wouldn't be bad," he says, even as they didn't even start yet.

Nonetheless, he rids himself of the utensils he's holding, the palette and the brush, sitting down on a nearby stool. Whenever it is just the two of them, the meetings feel easy, even when Ten is holding a brush and observes Johnny's every movement.

A familiar serenity crawls up quietly as they listen to the pitter-patter of the rain. He moves a little closer to the other.

"You know, rain has something quite poetic about it," Johnny hums while he turns his chair, so he faces the windows.

Ten looks at him curiously as Johnny glances over the downpour with a sort of fascination he didn't expect. "Elaborate?"

Johnny hums before he replies. "I don't know … it feels soothing, you know? Being in the rain can feel pretty bad because you're all wet and can catch a cold, but the idea of the constant falling drops washing everything has this feeling … I don't know, of quietness? New beginnings? … Does that make sense?" He looks over to the artist who smiles.

"Hm, I think I get what you mean - like an actual shower for the ground, huh?"

"Something like that," Johnny agrees, eyes turning back. "Although I know it doesn't quite make everything prettier, but it does spend life to some part of our existences."

Ten joins the subtle humming, nodding as he watches how Johnny's eyes wander, mouth slightly agape, feelings laid bare. He hasn't always had the impression that Johnny shows what he feels, a more refined actor in a sense that he hides his emotions, wears mainly the shell to show. But recently, as they spend more time together with the simplicity of not caring, not having to upkeep a standard, they reveal and learn more and more. Johnny feels less like a pleasant acquaintance and more like a friend now. Ten feels like he can trust him, trust him a little with the times where life isn't as bright as he wants it to be.

And he smiles at the almost child-like wonder reflected in Johnny's eyes as the rain picks up - perhaps an odd sight to others, but he finds it intriguing.

To shower the world anew … leaving petrichor in its wake.

Something new.

Ten diverts his gaze to the window as well, a quiet smile on his face. His fingers fidget, but his mind fills with a particular shade of blue - blue-purple.

"Hortensias in the rain are a rather popular motif in Japan," Ten remarks as they watch the steady downfall. "Since they love water, they bloom quite well in the rainy season, making the days more pleasant with their blossoming presence."

He feels how Johnny turns his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Is that so?"

Ten nods, smiling faintly, sincerely in return. "Yep. An own kind of blessing in disguise, maybe?"

"Then I'd like to think of it as a shimmer of hope when everything feels bleak," Johnny hums. His gaze falls back to the rain that begins to clear up, droplets weighing lighter on the window's surface.

At that moment, the sun is timidly appearing behind the grey clouds, tenderly walking one millimeter after another from behind the cloudy curtain. Little by little, Johnny's face is illuminated by soft streaks of sunlight, painting him with a golden shimmer. The corners of his lips curl up to a gentle smile, humming a quiet melody only he seems to know.

A quiet hue of purple is seeping into the frame.

And perhaps, perhaps …

Silently, Ten moves from the stool to the scaffold, dismissing any plans of changing the upper half of the painting. Instead, as he looks at the palette that saw a lot of yellow and orange and brown these days, he begins to mix shades of blue, colored with a hue of purple and pink.

He crouches down in front of the canvas, getting down on one knee, so he could paint the lower half better. It is soon attracting the attention of Johnny who looks at him curiously, but doesn't come closer.

"When can I see the painting, by the way?" he asks with an amused tone - one that also speaks of curiosity. "I'm pretty sure everyone saw it by now, but I didn't."

Ten pauses and tilts his head a bit, craning his neck, so he can look at the other. He grins (a little wickedly, maybe).

"You'll see it when you'll see it," he only remarks.

Soon, he thinks to himself. One day.

One day, he will say what is on his mind.

(There is unexpected warmth in the color blue.)

-----

A picture on a watery yellow hue, spreading all over the canvas where the faintest outlines of sunflowers are engraved - a few, not enough to draw the attention away from the actual centerpiece. In the middle, a figure cladded in shades of warm brown, sitting comfortably on a chair. His hair is of a darker brown shade, almost fluffy - easy streaks to accentuate the lightness, weightlessness of the man. Yet, he is grounded - not detached from his surroundings, but deeply rooted.

His gaze is directed slightly upwards, his expression serene and hopeful as he looks at a more strongly painted sunflower that represents the sun.

Sunflowers always look for the sun. And sometimes, they are each other's suns.

At the bottom, the faint yellow of the background blends into a hint of green before blue, purple-blue and slightly pink flowers emerge, minuscule flower petals forming the familiar image of hortensias. They seem to glisten from the edge of the canvas, as if the morning dew - raindrops - haven't disappeared just yet.

It's a mixture of brightly warm and softly cold colors.

On a separate paper, a watercolor sketch presents the circular likeness of a cornflower with its many petals speaking of all the anticipation for the numerous possibilities of the future, whispering of healing over time. It stands united in its center, devotion and delicacy woven into the fabric of its creation.

Blue is a curious color, after all.