[ That just breaks something in Lennon a little and it takes him a while before he finally responds.
He might have cried a little and then he'd gone to sweep away the iron shavings he had at the door, hoping Daeshim wouldn't be right there when he did it. ]
then just come in and sate your curiosity.
[ It doesn't really matter because Daeshim probably wouldn't understand what his art says anyway. ]
[he was, crouched there like a frog. but he does run and hide when the door opens. he peeks as lennon brushes away the shavings, and then reads the message that follows.]
[if daeshim was a human, or at least a decent one, he would reconsider. he would realize that lennon is letting him in begrudgingly and he would tell him that it was okay after all. that he would wait until he was ready to show him, however long it takes.
but he's not. this is his chance to see what's inside the mysterious art room. and he takes it, standing up from where he was hiding behind the couch and running for the door.]
[ Lennon is at least doing his best to mask how upset he is. A part of him had been hoping that offering would be enough, would prove he wants Daeshim and that him holding this to himself isn't about Daeshim. He's sitting at the main table, there's random sketches that are never too developed, small watercolor paintings of random things. Art supplies are everywhere and unlike the rest of Lennon's space the art room is chaotic and messy.
He swallows heavily and doesn't say a word as Dae gets to the door which is open for him.
To the side there's an easel and the canvas has darker colors on it, black, grey, reds for the most part. There's no concrete idea to it, no people, or things, just feelings and that's what the other canvases to the side are too, varying color pallettes, one that's mostly purple with some blues mixed in. ]
[he makes a slow circle of the room, looking at everything inside of it: the paint, the brushes, the half-finished canvases. he doesn't touch anything - he clasps his hands together to be sure.
anywhere there is red paint, he quickly looks away.
it's foreign but familiar at the same time. things are scattered in a way that's not unlike the treasures of daeshim's room. but he didn't make any of them, only found them.]
[ Lennon asks quietly, he hadn't looked at Daeshim while the other looked around. He should have hidden anything that was red but he hadn't been thinking clearly. ]
[he's not sure what he'd been expecting, isn't sure if it was this or something else. he's not disappointed, he just hadn't had any real expectations.]
That one. [he points to the one all blues and purples.] I like it. I know when you painted it.
[he does notice that not all of the paintings look the same. the color looks heavy on some and barely there on others, but that could be from the brush or the painter themself for all he knows.]
I like the way it sounds. Water color. It must make for very beautiful but enduring pictures.
[he nods with the sound. it looks different from many of the other paintings, but in a way that daeshim can't explain. it's not his lack of art knowledge, not this time. he just doesn't dream.
he spends just as much time staring at a jar full of brushes. if he squints, it could almost be a bouquet of flowers.]
You have so many of them. And they're all different.
[ Lennon nods and maybe if he had been ready for this to happen he would explain a lot more. But as it is he's trying not to let the anxiety swallow him, the invasive feeling of having everything inside of him displayed when he hadn't been ready to share all of this.
And despite being on display and the things that had shown how Daeshim pays attention to him in such detail he still feels the overwhelming sense of Daeshim not understanding something that he needed him to.
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I'm just... I can't share it yet.
How can I make you less upset?
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[what do you mean, that's not an option.]
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you won't.
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Just because something is physically possible doesn't mean it's mentally or emotionally possible.
I can't right now.
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He might have cried a little and then he'd gone to sweep away the iron shavings he had at the door, hoping Daeshim wouldn't be right there when he did it. ]
then just come in and sate your curiosity.
[ It doesn't really matter because Daeshim probably wouldn't understand what his art says anyway. ]
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is it a trick?
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but he's not. this is his chance to see what's inside the mysterious art room. and he takes it, standing up from where he was hiding behind the couch and running for the door.]
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He swallows heavily and doesn't say a word as Dae gets to the door which is open for him.
To the side there's an easel and the canvas has darker colors on it, black, grey, reds for the most part. There's no concrete idea to it, no people, or things, just feelings and that's what the other canvases to the side are too, varying color pallettes, one that's mostly purple with some blues mixed in. ]
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anywhere there is red paint, he quickly looks away.
it's foreign but familiar at the same time. things are scattered in a way that's not unlike the treasures of daeshim's room. but he didn't make any of them, only found them.]
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[ Lennon asks quietly, he hadn't looked at Daeshim while the other looked around. He should have hidden anything that was red but he hadn't been thinking clearly. ]
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[he's not sure what he'd been expecting, isn't sure if it was this or something else. he's not disappointed, he just hadn't had any real expectations.]
That one. [he points to the one all blues and purples.] I like it. I know when you painted it.
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When did I paint it?
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[he points to another one, a drawing of pencil or charcoal. daeshim doesn't know the difference.]
You must've worked on it for two days. You left a black fingerprint on me both days.
[the fae frowns at some small, twisted tubes of paint. it looks like he's almost out.]
Water...color. Hm.
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Mm...
[ He agrees with the other's assessments. His fingers rub anxiously at the grain of the table he sketches on. ]
What about watercolor?
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[he does notice that not all of the paintings look the same. the color looks heavy on some and barely there on others, but that could be from the brush or the painter themself for all he knows.]
I like the way it sounds. Water color. It must make for very beautiful but enduring pictures.
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That's a watercolor painting.
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[he smiles at that, stepping up to the painting for a closer look.]
I was right, water color makes beautiful pictures. It reminds me of the ink that I used to make out of berries or flowers.
[he studies the small painting for...a long time. before finally pointing to another one.]
What about that one? It's shiny.
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The one he pointed to is a dream, a mix of bright colors shining like rays from a multicolored sun in the corner. ]
Can I tell you about that one another time?
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[he nods with the sound. it looks different from many of the other paintings, but in a way that daeshim can't explain. it's not his lack of art knowledge, not this time. he just doesn't dream.
he spends just as much time staring at a jar full of brushes. if he squints, it could almost be a bouquet of flowers.]
You have so many of them. And they're all different.
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And despite being on display and the things that had shown how Daeshim pays attention to him in such detail he still feels the overwhelming sense of Daeshim not understanding something that he needed him to.
But he buries it down as best as he can. ]
Of course.
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