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Summary
Vampires were real, but they were rare. As real as an earthquake, as few and far between.
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Lee Seokmin asks renowned artist Xu Minghao to paint his portrait. -
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Bookmark Notes:
So beautiful, so pure~
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Vampires were real, but they were rare. As real as an earthquake, as few and far between./
Not noticing it feels like missing an old friend standing in a crowd because you’ve forgotten their face./
Seokmin’s eyes are wide and wondrous as he looks at the impossible poppy field. The color orange is strong and vibrant enough to reflect on his face like a sunset./
Seokmin on canvas begins his life as a series of primitive lines. Seokmin in the center of the room does not sit still./
Minghao tucks Seokmin’s stories beneath the paint, too./
And each day he waits for the sun to fall, fingers twitching around different paint brushes, anticipation settling in./
Where the fear should be, this part of him replaces it with curiosity. What would Seokmin’s mouth look like around his wrist, it wonders. What would Seokmin think of the taste of him, it asks./
You can’t unring a bell, but eventually the clapper will stop hitting the sides./
He’s studied mouths hundreds of times. He’s painted pieces where he’s looked at a person’s mouth for hours, hung the evidence of it on the wall of a gallery and sold that mouth to a stranger to hang in their home./
Every night the Seokmin on the canvas starts to resemble the Seokmin sitting on the other side of it with more and more accuracy. Minghao feels like a sculptor in that way. Like Seokmin has been trapped in the canvas all along, each brush stroke working to chip away until he can see his features with more and more clarity./
Seokmin tries to tamper down a smile as Minghao crosses his arms and leans forward. He’s inches away from Seokmin’s face, studying the patterns across the right cheek down to the edges of his mouth. Seokmin’s smile picks up even more, tugging at his lips until Minghao is face to face with the edges of his teeth and the divot of his dimple./
Seokmin in his mind stands over his shoulder at three in the afternoon and says:
Hao, I think it’s done, don’t you?/
Art is his life. He’d have nothing without it. A sea without water./
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Bookmark Notes:
when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it.
oh when you love it. and minghao came to jeju in term of painting his client a portrait. but if he falls in love and he drowns on it, giving his heart to the kindest, the most beautiful, and the softest man alive. it's not on his plan but it's not a mistake, either. not even a problem, not his fault.
seokmin’s voice drops into something small and sweet like sugar cubes being dropped into a teacup.
:"""") very beautifully crafted piece. i'm smitten. i'm mesmerized. i'm in love. artist minghao and vampire seokmin you have completely stolen my heart. this was amazing. incredible. god this was perfect in so many ways and i don't want to stop talking about themㅡboth share the love that is so perfect so lovely. i'm obsessed.
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Bookmark Notes:
absolutely perfect. so much reverence and love, and hao's depictions of art is absolutely wonderful.
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OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD THIS CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY
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The imagery in this fic is breathtaking. I was enchanted the entire time.