Chapter Text
Lukai Hwei is not an early riser on a good day, and today is not good. Nor was yesterday. Or the day before. So he stays tucked away under the blankets for many hours as the daylight burns away. Even when the offer of food is brought to him, he turns it down, and buries himself in the embrace of the bed.
No offence is taken when Hwei pushes away the meal that had been cooked for him. Hwei's company may not understand the complex reasons why he was this deep in a depressive darkness, but he knew him well enough to have seen this all before.
It moves like the tides. In and out. Somedays Hwei is buzzing brightly with an inspired energy nothing could snuff out. He'd be impossible to get into bed when he was inspired, even if his painting pressed pass twilight. Eager to create. To reinvent - both his art, and himself. A prism of color filtering through his eyes as he brings masterful works of delightful art into an otherwise ugly world. Yet slowly that light would fade, and Hwei would lose his motivation. There'd be only cold dark colors left to fill his eyes. Even the mundanity of life would be a chore to him. He'd grow quiet, and yearn for simple comforts like long mornings in bed or a hand to hold.
His partner affirmed that he didn't have to understand. Khada Jhin would be the last person with any place to judge another man's mental state.
So he joins him, at his bedside. Reading an intriguing bit of poetic literature to pass the time. Eventually sneaking an arm under the mounded pile of blankets, to search out and hold one of the cold hands hiding under there. There's signs of life when he gets a squeeze back. After a rustling beneath the covers, Hwei finally crawls out from his nest.
Bountiful waves of deep dark hair frame his tired face. Messier than ever, with the aftermath of a blanket having just been pulled off from over his head. Naturally the boy had a fabulously asymmetrical look, with one heavy side of his bangs falling down over his face. Despite sleeping in for hours there are somehow still dark dreary bags dragging down Hwei's eyes. And right now they are a stormy shade of blue, Jhin notes.
“I thought you were leaving today.” His voice is as cold as his eyes.
“Change of plans. I'm here for a few more days.”
“Hmm…” Hwei sits up, rubbing the sleep dust from his eyes. “I wish you would just not go at all. “
“I know. But I must.” His freedom is contingent on his work. He couldn't stay when called to a job, even if he wanted to. Even if he was begged to by his most favorite obsession. Jhin was obligated. ”The show never ends.” Jhin says in jest, yet it comes out sounding almost...bitter.
Well, ‘A few more days’ is enough motivation to not spend those days, miserable, in bed.
Hwei lazily dresses himself in nothing more than light loose pants and a set of slippers. But compared to Jhin it sure made him look slovenly, given that the man always dresses sharp. Today was no exception, he looked stunning, although Hwei wishes he'd not wear the mask… Hwei sets his hand right on the cold steel mask hiding his lover's face, as he insists, “Come. Paint with me.”
Jhin would never say no to that.
The brilliantly talented Artist has every tool and a plethora of paint pallets at his disposal. He's surrounded by color, yet his canvas remains blank. As does the expression on his face, despite being embraced lovingly, in his spot on the floor. The two creatives sit together, silently staring at the emptiness until Hwei finally speaks.
“Share with me your passion. I am in dire need of my muse.”
Jhin is here for him. His hand on his shoulders, idly doodling circles across Hwei's frame when the artist had lost himself in thought. He wonders if Jhin even notices this fact, but Hwei can feel him draw out four distinct spiraling circles as he swirls his fingers over his pale skin. At the fourth circle, he runs his hand back to the other side of Hwei's back and starts all over again. It's always four, without fail.
“Would you like me to play Violin for you?”
A heartfelt offer, but one he declines. “No… Not this time…” Hwei's attention slips away from the blank canvas that is taunting him, and turns to Jhin. “I want to see through your artistic vision. “
Long delicate fingers weave their way through the other's grip. Leading Jhin's hand to a carefully chosen pallet of paint. Together, their hands dip into a color of mutual favor. Red. With their fingers drenched with deep crimson paint, Hwei guides their hands to the canvas. His own fingers slide down the cloth, trailing a red smear as it parts ways from Jhin's. Leaving his partner's hand pressed to the nearly empty canvas.
“Tell me..." Hwei asks his question plainly, as if it were as causal as a prompt about the weather. "...How would you kill me?” And he didn't need to be able to see Jhin's face to know that the question would pique his eyebrows and his most morbid interests.
“What makes you so certain I've ever thought about that?” Jhin laughs.
“I'd be offended if you haven't.”
Well, who was he to deny the struggling artist a share of his own inspiration?
But where to even begin? Jhin hums, “Hm. It would be different with you. You are unequalled in my life, and your death should be just as extraordinary. I've ended many lives with a bullet or an explosive bang. And while that is always a spectacular show, with you… I'd want it to be… more intimate.”
His hand falls in a way that lovingly caresses the canvas, leaving behind his mark on Hwei's art. Moving it to instead shuffle through the various tools at his disposal. Jhin, picks up one of the masterful crafted pallet knives from the array of his dearest Artist's own tools, and holds the makeshift blade up to the flickering candlelight.
“It's been a long time since I used a blade. It's more personal, don't you think?” With an effortless twist of his wrist, that pallet knife was pressed to Hwei's throat. The steel edge gently caresses the defined curves of the artist's neck. Hwei leans back into Jhin's deadly embrace, tipping his head to welcome the kiss of the blade.
“Ah, so you'd slit my throat?” Hwei's eyes flutter closed and Jhin looks down at him wondering if he was following along with the fantasy in the eye of his mind. A dangerous indulgence if so, given the Man's volatile powers.
“No, no!” Jhin waves his hand dismissively, wagging that little knife along with it. “It needs to be more theatrical than that! You will get no less than my best performance!”
“Tell me already. “
“Don't be so rash, let me set the stage... “ He can hear Hwei huff, and his exasperation earns his a devious little chortle before Jhin starts his story. “A glittering dawn light floods in through the window. Illuminating your softly sleeping body as you lay in the caressing comfort of our bed. The light surrounds you in a warm ethereal embrace. As I sit at your bedside, waiting in the shadows. Wondering when you will wake. I wouldn't do it in your sleep, you see, I wouldn't dare rob you of your front row seats to my finest show.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Aren't I?” Jhin smirks from beneath his mask.. “Morning would be the ideal time. You are so listless when you first stir from your sleep. An adorably meek mess. And… Hmmm. I'm not sure I've ever mentioned it, but when you first awake your tired eyes are a dull hue of pale blue. Like a gentle fog on a lightly rainy day. Right on cue, you'd roll over, and close those stormy eyes of yours, hoping to slip back to sleep. We'd exchange ‘I love you’s' and perhaps you'd notice how mine was heavy with a sorrowful finality. Or maybe you'd be too tired to tell anything was out of the ordinary.”
“Knowing me I'd probably already be half asleep already.”
“That's what I'd be hoping for. I wouldn't want you to panic when I put my hands to your throat.“ Hwei stretches his head up further, nuzzling his face against Jhin's. He's irresistible like this, practically begging for first hand experience. And who is Jhin to deny his adoring audience what he wants? The pallet knife hits the floor with a metallic ‘ting’ as Jhin strikes. Wrapping his hand around the man's throat. Paint staining Hwei's pale skin, leaving behind a red hand print to mark his sins.
He didn't choke Hwei. He could have. But he merely teased him. This time.
Their eyes met and he can see that Hwei's half-lidded orbs were swirling with a passionate pink hue. A similar shade to how they look when the two’s bodies and souls are entwined together. Was he really enjoying this that much? Well, suppose Jhin did promise to make it intimate.
“And how would you hope I react, to waking up with your unrelenting hands around my throat? Would you want to see a spark of fear in my face? Betrayal burning in my eyes? Or would you expect I not struggle, and instead look up at you with somber acceptance of an inevitability I've always known I'd not escape?”
“Ideally? I'd want to see you excited to be my greatest masterpiece. It's a collaborative effort, afterall.“
Hwei laughs. Oh how Jhin loves to hear that man's unrestrained laughter.
“I'm not sure how masterful it would be if you choked me to death. Feels… Uninspired…”
It's too easy to get a rise out of him. Jhin replies with an overdramatic huff, feigning offence. “That's just the beginning!” He insists. “It would be merely to subdue you, my dear. Please. Have more faith in me. “
“Inspire me then.” Hwei grins. “I'm laying there in our bed, my cheeks flush a breathless shade of red and purple beyond anything you've ever pushed me to in the past. Yet there is a twinge of intrigue in my teary eyes. What happens next?”
The answer comes out so naturally, it was rather unsettling despite the macabre invitation he'd been given. “Now, I'd slit your throat.” Jhin says, roughly brushing his thumb across his victim's clavicle, leaving a defined streak of red paint across Hwei's neck. “Not deep enough to end you, but I do want to see how much you'd bleed.”
Jhin closes his eyes, now finding himself envisioning the blood and how sublime this scene would be. “I imagine you'd bleed roses. The kind so rare and precious that only lonely widows who toil their last days away in their gardens have ever managed to foster them. Each one full, illustrious, and bright red.”
“Laying in a bed of blood red roses. You are a romantic.”
“Only the best for you, my love.”
The hand Jhin had threatened Hwei's throat with has since fallen limp. Hwei reaches up and cups it in his own. Inquiring, “So you'd watch me bleed to death? Would you at least hold my hand?”
“If you reached for me longingly, I would not deny you that comfort. But, as serene as the roses would be, they'd not be your final act. “
“No?” Hwei hummed inquisitively as he shifted towards the canvas. Letting go of his partner's hand he instead takes hold of a brush and begins to paint.
“No. I want more. I want to run my knife down the contours of your chest” Jhin's warm paint stained hand follows the path his words plotted, carefully, so as to not disturb the artist's brush strokes. “I'd meticulously peel back your skin and pry apart your rib cage. Wouldn't it be lovely to watch the way your heart beats for me?”
“If you plan to eviscerate me, then they'd be my final heartbeats.”
“Thus the most precious, Hwei. This will be your finale.” Jhin shares with him his last moments, whispering the macabre vision calmly into his ear. “From the open cage around your heart, a single Starling would flutter free. The sweetest little bird, bearing the oil-sheen colors you loved the most in life. The last thing you'd see is that soulful creature be liberated from the darkness that haunted your life.
His brush stops mid-stroke and a swoon parts his lips. Hwei melts back into his supposed murderer's arms and beams brightly, renewed with inspiration. “Beautiful. Thank you for sharing with me. “ Once again he knits his fingers through Jhin's and he holds his hand close to his heart as he asks, “Once it's over, how would you feel?”
Jhin gives a thoughtful pause to his morbid story. Resting his chin on top of Hwei's chaotic messy head of hair. He answers cautiously. Yet honestly.
“Despite how exquisitely satisfying it would be to murder you, I'd like to think that when I'm done, and your body was growing cold, and the petals of the roses were shedding away, I'd look at you and I'd feel… remorse... Leave it to a fellow artist to inspire in me new feelings I've never experienced before.”
The answer must have satisfied Hwei, as he's just as soon back to his painting. Promising playfully, “Next time, I will tell you how I'd end you.”
“Oh. I do look forward to that.”
“Now will you play your violin for me?”
“Of course.”
The virtuoso composes an entirely new arrangement that evening. One that he imagined would be the soundtrack to his lover's cold blooded murder. He plays the chords he'd want Hwei to hear in those final bittersweet moments of his life. By the end of their shared artistic session Hwei had completed three paintings inspired by the captivating story of his own gruesome end and the breathtaking music that underpinned it all. But he knew the look Jhin would give him if he stopped at three. He'd be able to see it even through the man's damn mask. So he painted a fourth, straight from their shared vision. The silhouette of a Starling escaping a black consuming void of misery and torment, flying free into a serene early morning sky.