People Should Be Less Like Ants

A foggy view from a clear window.
A rare myungxan crackship fic... This is more about the simple dynamic of the relationship the characters have than the characters themselves.
I hope you enjoy reading it...


2. 002

Can you make love with one glance? Fleeting and shy, hasty and framed with small, black, naturally curled eyelashes.

Can you die with one touch? Hesitant yet meaningful, leaving scorching hot burn marks only viewable with your own opinionated eyes.

Can you... Be reincarnated with one kiss? Be reborn, as a bird soaring in the open, blue skies. The tips of your once grey wings preparing to dip into light and fluffy clouds, their frame bursting into flames like an ancient phoenix waiting to come back, reinforced with hardened neon gold.

Can you?

He'd tell you yes, why of course. Myungsoo would answer yes in a heartbeat to all of the above and more. And if the conviction gleaming bright in his eyes wasn't enough to turn you into a whole-hearted believer, well, his pulsating heart would bear glad witness. There was always something about the presence of Xander. The fact that he was. It set off a raging storm of conflicting feelings, a shiver down his seemingly straight spine, a rosy cheeked smile, a... Well... In essence, a hot mess.

And that's what he set out to convey, bit by bit, step by step on the mundane stretched material laid out in front of him. It was always a challenge, and it was a struggle from the minute he made the decision. He was an artiste. And what did artistes do? They made art.

But he hated thinking about it. The next exhibition.

And that buyer in his mid forties who was always there. Dressed head to toe in dry-cleaned cream -- cream coloured hair, a woolen cream sweater, cream chinos, cream penny loafers that made him age another ten years or so. Buyer number one, Myungsoo called him... The artist could picture it as clear as day... At the next convention he'd be standing there, idly kicking the ground with his feet as buyer upon buyer waltzed passed his quaint stand without giving it a second glance or a second chance.

And then he'd shiver, feeling his presence before he physically saw it, whipping around immediately to suss out the source of discomfort.

There was something alarmingly sinister about the development of buyer number one's smile. It unfurled, slowly, painfully and deliberately, to it's maximum of a satisfied smirk, and a short hum of approval would escape his lips as he scrutinized Myungsoo himself, not the art that Myungsoo had cried blood, sweat and tears to produce.

It scared Myungsoo. 

Not that it took much to make his knees chatter on a normal day but -- he had to admit that there was something specifically off about him. 

"How much is that one?" Buyer number one would ask, looking Myungsoo straight in the eye, and not pointing to anything in particular. In fact, not pointing to anything at all. And the answer Myungsoo gave was always the same, closed and short.

"It's not for sale."

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