Chapter Text
Slumped over his desk, drifting in some dreamless dream, Kija was on a boat.
He floated along a shapeless river, the water shining and pearlescent, alone in his vessel. But this solitude had never bothered him; it was a painless decision when turbulence came easy and more hands would only dull his focus. So it was natural that along these waters, he'd developed a few tools to keep the boat steady.
The only body in his apartment was his own and he intended to keep it that way. He would bury himself in the studio, color and charcoal packed under his nails, until the day had passed him by. And when his granny called, he'd pull from his laundry list of excuses for why he didn't have a girlfriend yet. Such were the means that kept him afloat, and Kija was happy to carry himself against that rocky current alone.
But something strange had been happening to Kija lately. His boat appeared to have a leak.
How long had it been there? He glared at it, this disturbance in his little refuge, willing it to go away. It didn't. How dare it! With wet shoes he approached, intent on patching the hole himself. Cold water sprayed up from the splintering floor.
The phone was ringing.
Kija snapped awake at the noise. There was a wet line across his cheek from drool running down, and an identical one pressed into the desk. He wiped away both before answering the blaring thing in a quick fumble.
"Yes?"
“Hey, dear.” Jae-Ha’s voice slithered across the line. “Just thought I’d check on you.”
This made Kija blink. “What for?”
“Well, you didn’t come by for coffee, and that only happens when you pull an all-nighter. So Kija, did you pull an all-nighter?”
Processing the words was like a trudge through thick mud. The last thing he remembered was pacing between the easel and his spread of paper drafts, trying to wring out an impossible ounce of inspiration onto canvas before bed. Stumbling slightly, he stood and drew the curtains. Light stained his vision.
“It’s morning,” he said aloud.
“It sure is.”
“I did it again.”
“Uh-huh.”
Kija checked his watch: 10:42AM.
“Wait there,” he instructed, as if Jae-Ha would up and leave his post otherwise. “I’m coming in.”
“Hey, no. You should be climbing into bed.”
But Kija was already packing up his sketchbooks and notes. “I have class at noon.”
“So get an hour of sleep.”
Phone tucked in his shoulder, Kija wrestled himself out of the previous day’s clothes and into his bedroom for fresh ones. “While I admire your dedication to doing things the easy way, I will need a boost to get through this morning."
“Still, some rest is better than none… are you getting dressed? Put me on video call.”
“Goodbye!”
He hung up and stopped himself from throwing his phone.
Beating his own record speed for morning routine completion, Kija threw on his peacoat and hurried off to Café Bar Dawn. It was a close enough walk, given that the year's chill was only just beginning to settle in, and campus was close enough from there. But even as his shoes crunched on all shades of orange, his mind was on the water.
Normally, such a comment was no bother to him—it wasn't as though it meant anything coming from Jae-Ha. But with the leaf-lined streets and jazz playing out of every shop speaker, it was easy for things to get under Kija's skin as they otherwise would not have. Simple things and soft things. He wasn't sure when it started, but lately they were common thorns in his side. Being touched unexpectedly, the tender brush of hands as he walked with friends, or hugs that lasted a moment too long. With blood-reddened ears, he'd started to catch moments that did not belong to him. Sweat-glistened backs at the gym. Couples being much too handsy in public. Impossibilities, distractions.
But Kija would shake off these inconveniences. He was a bachelor by choice, after all. There was no time to be indulging such thoughts, and if nothing else, he was very good at waiting. He'd compact it all into a neat little ball that he kept on the shelf for later, when he'd accomplished enough to deserve it.
He had projects due and a portfolio to expand. He would work, he would study, and he would wait. Work, study, wait. Work and study and patch up the hole and wait.
Kija rounded the last corner onto Hiryuu street and passed an obvious date sitting at the café’s tiny outdoor table, sharing sips of hot cocoa, and turned his face away. Still his hot cheeks were mirrored in the rose bushes that Jae-Ha had planted outside—and that Yoon had inherited the responsibility for. Even the caress of autumn breeze through his hair seemed to be taunting him. He tucked his chin into his coat and pushed his way inside.
Only a few steps in, his face made contact with someone's back.
A million things happened in a moment, like a bullet shot through a heaven-stacked house of cards. Kija stumbled a few futile steps and fell backward. Then an arm hooked around his back just before he hit the floor. Jae-Ha was leaning overhead, holding Kija in a dip from the world's clumsiest dance. The beginnings of a smirk made up his mouth.
It made Kija breathe in slow motion. It made his shoe slip on the hardwood.
He flailed in a blind panic, grabbing onto the first thing in reach, and it was tremendously unfortunate that the first thing in reach happened to be Jae-Ha's apron. This accomplished nothing except taking the other down with him.
They both yelped before the fall took the air out of each of them. Jae-Ha landed heavy on Kija's ribcage, trapping him on the floor.
Kija tried to wriggle his hands free. "I can't breathe. Get off of me."
"I'm trying," Jae-Ha grunted with effort. "You're crushing my arm."
"Just, sit up so I can—"
"Okay, okay!" Jae-Ha pushed himself up as much as he could, but took a pause to look down at Kija. "When you said you were coming, I didn't think you meant under me."
Kija shoved him away hard by the jaw.
As Jae-Ha laughed and Kija's senses fully returned, he caught the lingering scent of heady florals in the short distance between them, cutting through the strong cling of coffee on those hands. Jae-Ha always went a bit overboard on the cologne, in his opinion.
"Now I'll be dirty for class," said Kija, brushing off his coat as Jae-Ha helped him up.
"This is how you thank the man who saved you only moments ago?"
"I was perfectly fine!"
"Sure you were." Jae-Ha gave him a playful pat on the shoulder before sliding around to the other side of the bar. "So, the usual today? Or can I convince you to try something new?"
The man had a way about him. A smoothness, a languid confidence that was very good for putting others at ease. The adrenaline slowed and cooled in Kija. But a tickle around the edges of Jae-Ha's words kept him from surrendering to it.
“There’s nothing wrong with knowing what I want,” he affirmed.
Jae-Ha’s lips curled upward. “Say, I have a new seasonal flavor you could sample. Who knows, you might even enjoy it.”
“I might walk around this counter and make it myself if you won't.”
A click of the tongue. “You’re no fun.”
“And I don’t recall it being your job to judge me.” Kija met the attitude with his chin held high. If there was a moment of silent challenge there in Jae-Ha’s expression, it faded out like a whisper the moment another customer walked in, like it was never there at all.
“Vanilla latte, coming right up.”
Victor of this round, Kija made his way to the usual table by the far window, highlighted now by a pillar of cloud-patched sunlight and smiling faces.
Café Bar Dawn had a simplicity to it. For Kija, it had become a place to orient himself, his own lighthouse in the city. Warm walls inside which he could consult his mental map and tackle any problem refreshed.
His watch read 11:08AM. Surely the minutes would pass slow enough?
“There you are!” Soft red swished before him as Yona pulled him in by the hand. “Are you doing alright, Kija? No trouble on the way?”
Hak’s head rolled upward. “She was worried you’d wander into traffic.”
“Oh hush.”
“Kija…” Softly to his other side, feet tucked up in his chair, spoke Shin-Ah. “You have dark circles.”
Kija removed his bag and took a seat, though he did not unbundle himself. He was just grateful they didn't seem to have heard the commotion. “I’m quite fine, everyone. It was a late night, that’s all.”
“Did you make some good progress, then?” Yona asked.
“Well—”
"For you, Kija." A little ceramic cup clinked in front of him, his latte topped with a charming little heart. Jae-Ha winked and gave him an eyebrow wiggle that was definitely not as innocent as the drink suggested, which Kija tried to ignore.
But Jae-Ha did not respond to this rejection, only turned to Yona with a slice of apple pie and the same dreadful look on his face. "For Yona dear, the apple of my eye."
"Wow, that looks so tasty!" She clapped, always enthused by his theatrics.
"Only the tastiest for you."
Kija took a slow sip of his drink, blocking out his swirling thoughts—and Hak’s complaints—with rich warmth. It was perfect as always. Smooth and velvety, subtle sweetness following the bright espresso. The heart shifted on the surface as he drank.
Simple things.
There were suddenly arms in Kija’s space bubble, Zeno stretching himself across the table from the far corner. “Ryokuryuu, how was your last show?”
A genuine smile chased off the mischief from Jae-Ha’s face. “We played a brand new song. It hasn’t been recorded yet, but I’d like to add it to the album. It was quite a hit!” A brief pause, and the mischief bled back in. “Especially with the ladies.”
“What is it you sing about, again?” Hak asked blankly.
“Use your imagination.”
Sometimes, Kija used his imagination to smack his vulgar friend, if only for the crime of showing little respect for the arts. If Jae-Ha was this shameless in his own place of employment in broad daylight, Kija truly could only imagine what the man would sing on a dimly lit stage…
Patch up the hole. The latte was perfect.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Yoon’s voice came to the rescue, as it often did. The youngest of their group poked his head out from the kitchen. “I hear him humming constantly.”
“And somehow, I seem to recall you humming along every so often.” Then Jae-Ha was returning to work and balance was restored. Kija took the fleeting moment of peace to finish his drink; back into the current, back on-course.
“I will see you all soon.”
Yona caught his arm as he stood. “We’re having dinner at my place if you can make it! Yoon has an exam coming up and wants to stress-cook.”
“Yona has the good kitchen,” said the aforementioned stress-cooker, a tray of pastries in his mitted hands.
"I know you're busy, and it's alright if you can't." Yona's eyes gripped his. "But you're allowed to take a break."
The time read 11:25AM.
"I will be there if I can," Kija told her.
He made his way from the table to the door, taking one glance back. Jae-Ha was wiping the bar clean, and when he looked up at the same time and waved, Kija felt something rock his little wooden boat. He bowed his head.
“Thank you for waking me.”
And he was out the door before Jae-Ha could respond.
It was a perplexing thing, to suddenly find himself adrift in a world he thought he knew so well. Painting was what made him, was the extension of his very bones. His childhood works adorned Granny's fridge like precious historic portraits, the way his late father's adorned museums. He'd grown into a man looking up at those famed Hakuryuu pieces, walked alongside them with wonder, imagining what his father might say about their infinite meaning. What fragments of him might Kija uncover, if only he learned and achieved enough?
Kija had to make him proud. Do right by him.
But there in the Fine Arts building, he would have to work twice as hard to prove himself. Every one of his peers had sat in lectures dissecting his father's work. There was too much for Kija to live up to for him to falter at any step. So he sketched the model in the center of the studio, just another student in the circle with stains on his apron, struggling with the shading.
Look to the model, then to the canvas, back and forth and back again. It wasn't bad necessarily, just missing something. Like he was desperately trying to squeeze the art from himself line by painful line.
Maybe Yona was right. As much as he wanted momentum, he needed a break.
It was this thought that propelled him once his classes were over. The sun had already set, and the golden-brown streets of Kuuto were now encapsulated by a sharp blue shroud. Kija felt a little less cold when Yona's door opened.
"Miss me already?" Surprisingly, Jae-Ha was the one to answer, one arm leaned up on the frame.
Kija stepped past him into the hallway and neatly hung his coat. "Terribly. I hear there's dinner?"
But when he looked back up, Jae-Ha was making a face. One of those annoying faces that he had to decipher. Careful analysis told him that Jae-Ha was trying desperately not to laugh.
“What?”
“Kija dear, your—” he covered his mouth with a hand. “Your buttons are mismatched.”
“What?!”
Sure enough, Kija looked down at his perfectly ironed, pristine button-up shirt to find it done wrong.
"Oh gods. Oh no, no no!"
“Kija—”
He tried to fix himself up, but frustration made his hurried fingers slip. "I went to the studio like this! How could I be so sloppy? What will my professors think?"
"Hey, relax. Come here." Then Jae-Ha was grabbing his hands and pushing them aside. Gently, he began adjusting each button in need, starting at the collar. "It's art school, not a court hearing. I'm sure half of your classmates put their shoes on backwards today."
For some reason, this kindness made Kija's insides hurt. He was taking on water, and fast.
"I don't know what's been dragging me down lately." The last syllables shook their way out of him at the same time Jae-Ha's fingers shifted down his chest, a whisper of fabric. Kija's heart kickstarted so suddenly under them that he became lightheaded. "I think I'm coming down with something."
“It’s that bull-headed stubbornness of yours. You’re biting off more than you can chew.”
Disoriented though he was, Kija had the good sense to be offended by this. “Are you saying I’m not capable?”
Jae-Ha’s fingers continued their journey down. He worked slowly, in spite of Kija’s heated face, like there was no reason to hurry.
“I’m saying, if you throw yourself skull-first into every issue, you’ll go into the next still bruised from the landing.”
That was… a fair point.
"There, good as new." Finally, Jae-Ha's hands retreated. Kija found himself still a bit too breathless to find words, and there was a rare beat of silence that Jae-Ha did not try to fill. Instead, he smoothed out the fresh wrinkles in Kija's shirt and then walked away toward the living room.
Soft things.
Jae-Ha called out, singsongy. "Look who I found!"
"'Sup, White Snake?"
"Hakuryuu, there's cheese and crackers!"
"Could one of you please help me with dishes?"
Their group was strange, even troublesome at times, but in their antics, Kija found a much-appreciated lift in spirit. He raised his hand. "I will!"
It worked out that dishes were the only kitchen task that Kija was really capable of, because Yoon refused any help with the actual cooking and Kija was in no position to get his hands chopped off. Pumpkin curry simmered on the stove, hearty spice from the burner colliding with cool night air from the open window, adding a tenderness to their junk food appetizers.
Yona's apartment was endlessly cozy, with its pale pink walls and handpicked decor, and she was proud to have it to herself—although Hak occupied it almost as much. And there, for a moment, he let himself forget the water and the leaking boat. He let the lamplight and Yoon's home cooking warm him from his heart to his toes. And after dinner, with the group spread out across red corduroy sofas, the chatter of friends made Kija feel more at home than under his own roof.
It was in the tiny gap in his defenses there, Kija sated and thoroughly disarmed, that Jae-Ha draped an arm around him.
"Could I ask you to look at something for me, Kija dear? I need your expertise."
Kija tried to let the familiar nickname, and the proximity, roll off his back. "What is it?"
Jae-Ha pulled a stack of pictures from his pocket and spread them out across his lap. Some polaroids, some amateur sketches featuring stick figures. "We still need a cover for the album. The boys and I threw around some ideas, but we're having trouble landing on anything." He absently tapped on his bottom lip as he scanned them all, before looking back over at Kija. "What do you think?"
Kija had to clear his throat, center himself.
"Well, I haven't heard your songs, so it depends on what the album is about. What kind of feeling are you trying to evoke?"
Then Jae-Ha was back in thought, luckily not touching that lip of his. Did his lips always look that nice?
"It's about freedom. Taking pleasure in the little things and living life to the fullest, as an act of rebellion."
Kija finally examined the images. There were photos of the city, and drawings of what he assumed was the beach, but one in particular stuck out to him. A blurry picture of the sky, just barely grazing water at the bottom. The lighting was rough, and the composition wasn't perfect, but he could work with it.
"May I?" he asked. Jae-Ha nodded, curious.
So Kija stumbled toward the coat rack and brought his bag over. In less than a minute, he was back next to Jae-Ha with his open sketchbook and the photo clipped to the top of the page.
As he sketched, he made a point of not looking up at Jae-Ha's eyes, watching intently over his shoulder. The feeling was heavy enough just knowing they were there. But Kija let the reference guide his hand, let himself soak in Jae-Ha's pitch. Clouds curving around a rising sun, a new beginning. The kiss of the ocean horizon as a border to ground the image. It was hope free from restraints, and needed something sharp and quick enough to defend it—a core to match the muse. Before Kija knew it, his pencil had brought to life a great creature, a dragon coiling through the center. He hadn't noticed how much he'd drawn until Jae-Ha gently stroked up and down his spine in much the same all-encompassing way.
Low and much too close to Kija's ear, he said only, "You're amazing."
The hot, tickling air overwhelmed him and he dropped his pencil.
"Well, this is only a rough outline." Kija scrambled to grab it from the floor and create some distance. "I assure you that I am capable of much better."
"You know, I actually wanted to ask if I could commission one of your lovely paintings. But you seem to have your hands full lately."
Had he heard that right? Commissions were not something he'd given much thought to. But as he looked down at the drawing, something in it glowed faint in the graphite sunrise. Something moving and alive.
"I'll do it."
Jae-Ha actually pulled back at that. "Seriously? Aren't you busy with other projects?"
"Truthfully, I've been severely lacking inspiration." Kija braved the storm going on at the back of his mind to look Jae-Ha in the eye. "If doing this for you will improve both your album and my art, then I see no downside."
Suddenly Jae-Ha looked like he was pushing his expression down, like he was forcing a grin through sheepishness.
"Kija dear, that's lovely, but... I actually couldn't pay you. Musicians and baristas don't tend to make a lot of money, you see. And I'm both."
"That's okay. You don't need to pay me."
"...Really?"
"It's not like I need it." There was plenty of truth to that; Kija's already wealthy family had been more than taken care of since his father's works were hung for public display. "Consider it a gift from a friend. I'll come to watch you play sometime soon, and we'll discuss. Deal?"
Sharp violet pierced him, wide in surprise before it softened over, and Jae-Ha cocked his head to the side. A strange, pleased smile stretched over him.
"It's a date."