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„Can you move your hand just a bit higher baby? Yes, like that”Taemin lets out a deep sigh because it’s been hours now that he’s been posing for Minho. It’s not like he dislikes it, but Minho’s studio is always cold and the muscles in his arm are starting to go numb for he’s been keeping his hand up for god-knows-how-long. Minho’s face is stoic, not showing many emotions other than concentration. Taemin thinks that maybe his lover could at least show a bit of interest since he is right in front of him, naked and in that provocative pose; but Minho is only focused on painting, sticking out his tongue a little bit when deciding about the next colour he’s going to use.“Maybe we can take a little break? I’m starving” Taemin mumbles, trying hard not to move his lips too much or else Minho will get mad that he is moving – again. Goosebumps show up on the skin of his calves and he glances down, finding the thin hair on his legs suddenly interesting when he has no other thing to do.It’s been about a year now that they’ve been together – Taemin visited one of Minho’s exhibitions after his friend’s suggestion and Minho grew fond of the boy instantly. Taemin was just what he’d been looking for – full, pink lips, round eyes and long eyelashes. Of course, his bubbly personality and mutual interest in each other only made things easier and they started dating pretty easily. At first Taemin felt overwhelmed by Minho’s artistic side and was scared that the other would find him boring; he was nowhere as talented and creative as Minho, but somehow they clicked and their relationship worked out.Minho liked to draw human bodies – raw and naked, in provocative, usually painful-to-look positions. He liked to shock, liked to see people’s reactions to gymnast’s twisted legs, ballerina’s bent toes, weightlifter’s bulging veins. That was why his exhibitions kept being successful and he earned quite a substantial sum of money selling his paintings. But lately, he’s been lacking inspiration. Minho feels like he’s painted everything, like there’s nothing more for him to capture and show to the world. He loves Taemin and enjoys his company but sometimes he feels like his lover is the one who drains him out of his creativity. Taemin has a steady but boring job, his friends are rather mediocre in Minho’s opinion and the only thing that makes him stand out from the crowd is his feminine beauty and kind personality. He never disagrees and rarely says no to Minho. Whatever Minho wants, Taemin will more than gladly do it for him.“Just a bit more baby” Minho looks up at Taemin from above the easel and furrows his brow. Taemin seems to be slacking off, his hand not as high in the air as it should be and his back curled. Minho ignores the logical explanation that his lover could be simply cold and tired. “What are you doing?” Minho’s voice is deeper than usual when he takes long steps towards his model. With a strong hold he raises Taemin’s hand up by the wrist, ignoring the other’s silent whine of discomfort. The boy is misbehaving for the first time and it’s throwing Minho off balance.“It hurts…” Taemin mumbles silently but his voice doesn’t reach Minho’s ears. On the contrary, he is already squeezing Taemin’s ankle in his fingers and twisting it in a way that makes Taemin shriek in pain. “Stop! It hurts!” Taemin slaps Minho’s hand away from his leg and sits straight on the couch, dropping his pose altogether. His eyes are round in confusion and hurt, boring holes into Minho’s chest before he raises them up to his face. He can’t believe that for art Minho would even hurt him – he’s already told him dozens of times that he was hungry and cold, but Minho ignored him and now even hurt him, intentionally or not.Minho takes deep breathes to calm himself down. All those hours he spent in front of the easel, trying to capture Taemin’s beauty, the said model threw away so easily without a second thought. He is growing angry, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides as if he’s deciding whether or not he should put his fists to use. He notices Taemin's trembling, part because he’s freezing and part because he probably noticed the fury written all over his face.“I’m sorry” Minho finally grumbles after what seemed like hours and Taemin wakes up from his shock – he reaches for a robe and wraps it around his body, leaving the studio without a word.Only after some time does Minho leave the room and meets Taemin lounging on the couch in their living room, sipping tea and watching a soap opera that he’s seen thousands of times. Minho wants to scold him for that – he should be improving himself, try new things, inspire, not embarrass himself with rewatching stupid stuff like this one. He finds last bits of control in himself though and joins Taemin on the sofa, who seems to not even acknowledge his presence.“Hey, I’m really sorry, I didn’t control myself”Taemin moves his gaze away from the screen and stares deeply into Minho’s eyes – they are still dark and scary, but somewhere inside he notices the warmth and affection that he fell for at the very beginning. A smile appears on his lips; he can’t be mad at his Minho for a long time.“I know, I’m sorry too, that pose was too hard for me… Maybe you should find some other model?” he suggests hesitantly, scooting closer to Minho and playing with his hair. “Maybe a dancer? Someone who is more flexible than me” he hums, his aching back and pulled muscles reminding him of how difficult the pose was. Minho only grunts in response, staring at the wall deeply in thought. He will never find anyone as beautiful and innocent as Taemin. Their days get back to normal with time and soon Taemin forgets about the incident; he is back to his bubbly self and showers Minho with kisses and cuddles like he usually does. But Minho can’t omit the thought of that night, the memory of Taemin’s small outburst and his unfinished piece of art. He doesn’t let it show but every time he sees his lover he finds himself on edge, easy to burst out, easy to think about things he’s never even imagined. Sometimes he feels terrible when realising that he thinks about punishing Taemin, be it a mother-like scolding or physical chiding.So Minho tries to pamper Taemin with little surprises and dates, buys him his favourite ice cream more often than usually and kisses him before sleep with more vigour. His lover doesn’t complain at all, he is happy that Minho is treating him even better than before their small quarrel – maybe they should argue more often, Taemin thinks with a silent giggle when snuggling to Minho’s naked chest.As things get better and better for Taemin, Minho starts losing himself gradually to bad thoughts that he wants to bury somewhere deep under the ground and never ever see again. His inner voice is whispering in his ear such ugly abominations that leave him sick to his stomach.When he watches his lover change clothes, his milky skin showing, Minho feels his fingertips twitching. He’s never seen anyone as perfect as Taemin – he saw dancers, models, actors and actresses but their beauty was vulgar, lewd in the ways Minho dislikes. Taemin’s body is gentle, full of soft curves that his brushes love to portray, his skin so fair that it nearly blends with the whiteness of the canvas, lips plump and cheeks round that Minho is surprised no one before has thought of drawing or sculpting Taemin because he is a walking masterpiece.Minho touches the lines on his painting gently, even though the paint has already fully dried out after all those days. He feels sorry for the abandoned work and whispers soothing nothings to his easel, brushing the wood with his fingertips. Taemin on the canvas misses his legs that he couldn’t bend backward towards his back in the way Minho wished he would; he also misses a face expression because Minho likes to draw it last, capture the right facial appearance to top out the painting with a grand touch of his brush.He is growing angrier and angrier, unsettled and restless. The thought of his painting collecting dust and calling for him is not letting him rest. And every time he tries to ask Taemin for a few more minutes of posing the other gets mad and asks Minho to think about his feelings too. The room is cold and the pose is too challenging for him, Taemin explains and ends the topic every time. Minho fists his hands more often with every next disagreement and the painting isn’t calling for him anymore, it’s screaming right into his ear, getting more obscene and demanding.Minho tries to mute out the calling but he is only getting weaker and weaker and soon he is catching Taemin in his arms. A carving knife suddenly appears in his hand, so small yet sharp enough to cut out in the wood. It’s not a problem for it to dig into Taemin’s skin either, separate it from the rest of the body, carefully to the music of his agonized screams. It’s so white and soft, no tan nor blemishes, the most perfect canvas Minho could dream of. He ends the work soon, discarding Taemin’s silent body carelessly as he spreads the white skin on his easel like the priciest of canvases. Ah, what a pleasure to watch, what a pleasure to paint on. As Minho reaches for the reddest paint he’s got now too thanks to Taemin, he hears some shouting in the distance.“Minho! Wake up!”Minho opens his eyes abruptly, staring at the distressed face of his alive lover.“Are you alright? You had such a strange expression on your face, was it a nightmare?”Taemin’s worried voice pulls him fully out of the dream and Minho runs to the bathroom to throw up as images from the nightmare flash in front of his eyes.He can’t sleep anymore from that day on. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Taemin’s dead body on the floor and his skin is spread out on his easel like a canvas. Other times he drains his lover out of all the blood to mix it with his paints and create the perfect colour. Sometimes Taemin stares at him with his dead eyes, sometimes his eye sockets are empty and accusing. Minho falls into insomnia, avoiding Taemin at all costs and staying on the couch or out for the nights. They grow apart but Minho thinks that it’s the only way to keep Taemin safe – he doesn’t want the nightmares to come true. Taemin catches Minho’s wrist while on the phone, holding him tightly with a big smile on his lips when letting out occasional “yes” and “sure” into the speaker. Minho wants to escape, constantly scared because he feels like he can’t control himself anymore, like the nightmares took over his body. Dark circles found home under his eyes and his skin is so grey and even yellowish in some spots. Taemin doesn’t mind though, he still loves Minho and if he needs to fight over his heart all over again he will do it.“Kyungmin called, his exhibition opens today – he invited us for a little party, isn’t it great?” Taemin is all smiles, still squeezing fumbling Minho’s wrist in his fingers. “Oh baby, it’s been such a long time that we went out… I promise you that we will have fun and things will get back to normal” Taemin bites his lower lip when looking at Minho unsurely, his eyes round and hopeful. Minho ponders for a while, repeating Taemin’s words in his head – ‘things will get back to normal’. This is exactly what Minho wants right now, for the first time he needs normality in his life.His lover squeals n excitement when Minho agrees – they need to hurry up and get ready in advance because Taemin hates being late. He promises to prepare everything himself because Minho looks tired and just needs to sit down and rest. Taemin dances around while choosing their best dress shirts, sure that this evening will change their lives and they will get closer once more. He won’t let Minho down, he will look perfect for him, smile the brightest for him and look only at him for the whole night out.While Taemin showers in the bathroom Minho tries to eat something – he can’t go to the party with an empty stomach even though he has no appetite whatsoever. His throat is closed all the time and threatens to throw up anything that Minho puts through it. He decides he can’t do that, he can’t go out to the public. His hand stops cutting the apple and he walks towards the bathroom when hearing that Taemin finished showering. He knows his lover will be disappointed and it will be another time that he fails him but it’s better if he fails him inside their apartment and not between the crowd of important people and colleagues.As he cracks open the door and takes a peek at Taemin’s naked body something inside of him breaks. Taemin looks at him briefly before chuckling and continuing to dry his body slowly with a small towel – he knows how his body affects Minho and he hopes that it works this time too, maybe even brings up Minho’s mood.“You know, maybe after we come home we can spend the rest of the night together…” Taemin nearly purrs with an innocent smile as he hears Minho slipping inside the bathroom. Soon he feels his fingers ghost up and down his naked waist leaving goose bumps behind. How he missed that touch and Minho’s breath on his nape. Taemin looks into the mirror and catches a glimpse of Minho’s dark eyes behind his body, full of passion and want for him. He wants to tell Minho that they need to wait until the end of the party but his words get stuck in the throat when he lets out a chocked gasp. His body is trembling and he can barely breathe when looking down and noticing just the tip of their kitchen knife sticking out of his chest, a few drops of blood dripping down his navel. His mouth fills up with iron taste and he wants to say something, call for help, scream but Minho only pushes the knife deeper into his body. His lover is whispering something but his ears can’t register anything anymore – all he can feel is the warmth of the blood seeping down his back and the affectionate whisper of “masterpiece”. Minho carefully puts Taemin’s leg in the right place, not caring about the cracking noises of broken bones. He is perfectly posing right now, with his body twisted unnaturally all to Minho’s will – he would never been able to find anyone who would model for him so flawlessly. Minho can finish his final piece of art, the grand finale of his career, the most perfect masterpiece of all. He excitedly gets to work and gently glides his brush over the canvas to outline Taemin’s empty, blaming eyes. They don’t put him off anymore though for he became friends with his nightmares.