Chapter 7: Ch. 7

    Jens is staring at his phone. This is beginning to feel like a habit. I wonder if he’ll need me this Saturday too. He usually tells me by now. Jens sets his phone down roughly. Since Jens’ asking for dinner, they have had three meetings. Kei has been refining the painting that happened as a result of the 20 questions. These meetings were more brief. Jens stayed fully clothed, just lending his face as reference, and all of these meetings went like the first. Cold, silent, Jens poses and Kei paints. He wishes he knew what over stepping that boundary meant. This feels a bit like torture. It feels too cruel of Kei to punish Jens for wanting to get closer. But what could he do? Jens liked that part of Kei too. Because he knew, if Kei had to build such an impenetrable wall between them, that meant there was something very tender and precious to Kei on the other side. Jens could tell himself that if he had a do-over that he would have bit his tongue and not asked for dinner, but he also knew he’d make the same decision over and over again. Something about Kei made him want to bare his feelings openly. Something about the way he looks at Jens sends his heart clawing at his rib cage, begging to be worn on his sleeve instead of locked up in his chest. So, yes. He would ruin the mood of that day 100 times if it meant that Kei’s eyes would show that same momentary excitement each time. Kei’s distant attitude doesn’t phase Jens as much as it did in the beginning, because like clockwork, Kei still reaches out to him asking to meet again.  

So Jens will wait. He’ll wait for Kei to call him. He’ll vent his frustration and anticipation at the gym. Jens is running multiple miles each day now, and spending just as many hours lifting.

    Jens picks up his weights and begins a new rep. He flexes in the mirror squinting at himself. He doesn’t usually pay attention to how his body looks, instead focusing on how his body feels, but his form caught his eye. I’ve been so frustrated that I’ve been working out harder than usual. My arms look more carved. He lifts his shirt and flexes his stomach too. No, maybe my body fat percentage is lower? “Andrew? You have your calipers on you?”. Jens calls out, not taking his eyes from his reflection in the mirror. A man pops out from behind some equipment. Andrew, the gym manager, good friend of Jens, and his semi-personal trainer. “Yeah? You trying to cut weight?” Jens turns around pointing at his own arms “Do I look more shredded?” Jens lifts his shorts high on his thighs and flexes his legs. He turns and flexes what’s visible of his shoulders under the cut off he’s wearing. Andrew tilts his head analyzing Jens form “Yeah actually. Let me go grab them. We can compare to the measurements we took a few weeks ago” Jens sits down. A strange uneasiness wells up in his stomach. He said he liked me how I was. Is he going to get all stiff about this like when I shaved? What if he doesn’t like it. I guess he would just paint it how he likes…Ahhh, that would make me feel like crap. He remembers that day in class, Kei confidently saying “Yes that’s really what it looks like”. Kei values accuracy. Jens can’t imagine him editing his image like a real-time PhotoShop. If Kei doesnt like the form Jens comes to him with, will he just find a new model?  

    Andrew comes back over with a clipboard and calipers. Jens takes his shirt off. Andrew measures a few spots. “Comparing it to last time, you’ve dropped a good bit. Your BFP is way down.” He pokes Jens in the stomach with his pencil “Your stomach is looking gnarly.” He lifts Jens’ arm and twists him into a pose. Jens flexes as implied. Andrews face is impressed. “Your obliques are insane! Nice work man” Jens face pales “No, no that’s not good.” Entering the new data into his handheld device, Andrew snorts a confused laugh. “Why not?” Jens pulls on his shirt “I’m gonna go”. Andrew watches daunted as Jens jogs out the building.

     Jens doesn’t know why he left in such a rush. He didn’t even thank Andrew for his help. Something in Jens’ stomach didn’t feel right. He suddenly felt terrified that Kei may no longer find him beautiful. That was the only thing tying them together. The fact that Kei was captivated by his physical appearance. He’s jogging down the street then stops. Fuck. No more working out. Just walk. Walk like a normal person. He controls his breathing and strolls for a few yards. Oh my god this is so boring! He starts jogging again. It wasn’t boredom that made him pick up pace, but the anxiety building in him that needed to be shaken out. What if he thinks it’s too much? What if he likes the more subtle look? What if he wants a new model now? Did he already notice last week? When did it become noticeable. It’s not like this happens over night. But if it was just fat loss, that could happen quickly.  Jens is in a full run now. But I work out to clear my head. If he doesn’t like how it looks and that stresses me out.. then what am I going to do? He’s still running. The side walk is clear. He dips into the road when he passes by groups of chatting people. His breathing is heavy, he can feel his heart rate increase and his blood pumping faster. He puts in his head phones, playing his music as loudly as possible. He wants the noise in his head to be quiet. He rounds the corner to the part of the street that is a small shopping district. His eyes go wide as a man exits the store, he turns and pauses directly in Jens’ path. Kei? He tries to dodge, his arm only bumping Kei’s shoulder instead of tackling him to the ground, but the momentum makes him lose balance. Jens whacks into the wall instead. There’s a loud crash.

   Jens rips his head phones out. “I’m so sorry! Kei, oh god are you alright?”. Kei looks up from a splattered can of paint. His pants are hopelessly coated and theres a speckling ranging from his arm to his face, but his body is completely unharmed. Startled maybe but nothing upsetting. “I’m fine but, I just bought this.” Jens grabs his sleeve, easily yanking Kei’s arm to look at the paint. Kei blushes at the doting behavior and man handling. He’s still not used to the difference in their builds. “Ahhh, that’s not going to come out! You use oil paint? Hold on I’m gonna Google how to clean it.” Jens spins Kei around gently “Get back in the store I’ll buy you a new can”. Kei has no choice but to be brushed along. “Jens.” Jens is pushing Kei’s shoulder, guiding him back into the store. “No really it was my fault just show me what it was you were buying.”  “Jens.” “I was just running and.. I wasn’t supposed to be I’m sorry”. Why is he apologizing for running? He already said sorry for bumping into me. He seems like a total mess right now. “Jens!”. Jens, hearing his name for the first time, looks at him. “Your arm. It’s bleeding. Just stop worrying about me, go wash it in the bathroom. I’m going to ask for their first aid kit” Jens blinks and looks at his arm. Only after seeing the deep scrape, does he begin to feel the dull throbbing ache. “O-oh”.

     Jens is staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Why was I freaking out so much. I just had to see his face to realize how stupid I was acting. He winces as he pats it dry. Kei knocks on the door and Jens opens it. Kei is standing outside, he looks up through his eyelashes. Haaa. This feels familiar. Kei blushes, a similar thought on his mind. Just like that time. Kei doesn’t move. He hands Jens a red velcro first aid kit. Jens looks in it. “It’s only antiseptic. Just put some on” Jens stares at him for a moment. It feels like slow motion when he reaches out and grabs Kei. His hand easily encompassing the thin bony wrist. He pulls him into the bathroom. Kei pulls his hand back to himself, his other hand on Jens’ arm, keeping him at bay.  “No, no Jens-” Jens pointedly puts the ointment in his hand. His face has a look that says ‘Oh? What were you thinking?’. Jens turns around to show Kei the scrape. “I can’t get the part near my shoulder” he points at it through the mirrors reflection. Kei exhales, relieved, let down, and throughly embarrassed. “Right..” Did I really think he was going to jump me just now? What just because we’re in a room together? Kei reaches out hesitantly. He can feel his heartbeat in his palm. He smears it on gently. Jens doesn’t flinch. Touching him like this, feeling the heat coming from Jens skin, Kei wants to run his hands across those broad shoulders, feel every shift of the muscle under it. At the same time, Jens is appreciating the cooling touch of Keis hands. He closes his eyes, focusing on every movement. How gentle and thorough Kei was being. Jens wishes he could be the artwork Kei stares at for weeks on end. He finds himself jealous of his own painted image. How lucky the Jens on canvas was to have Kei touch him like this everyday. To have Kei stare so lovingly at him. If Jens had kept his eyes open, he might have been able to see the reflection of Kei’s gaze taking in every inch of him. He might have seen the soft eyes he had while looking at him. 

    When Kei’s hand leaves his skin, Jens turns around. Kei caps the ointment and tries to disguise his face to not give away the thoughts he just had. “Can I buy you a new can?”. Kei shrugs. “You don’t have to, but I won’t stop you.”. In desperate need of cool air, Kei waits outside for Jens as he buys the paint. He comes out carrying the new can, smiling. Kei reaches out, Jens doesn’t hand it over. Kei glares “I can take it.”. Jens bends and picks up Kei’s other shopping bags from the ground. “I’ll carry it back to the studio for you- To apologize” Kei sighs. “No.” Jens frowns. “Why? You treated my wounds” Kei reaches for the bag and Jens pulls back childishly. Kei’s face turns red when he almost ends up face first into Jens’ shoulder. “Stop playing around. I was in the middle of a project. My car is on the next block. It’s fine. I can handle it.” Jens starts walking. “Fine. Then I’ll carry it to your car.” Kei stands in place and dead pans “It’s the other way”. Jens pauses, turns around in a very dignified manner and brushes past him. Kei huffs a laugh. The walk is quiet. Kei eyes the silent man beside him. Why isn’t he saying anything? What happened to chatty McGee? Jens is deep in thought. Is he going to ask me to go over tomorrow?. They arrive at Kei’s car. Kei puts away the can and shuts his trunk. “Thanks.” Jens stares at him. Kei’s pants are ruined and he still has a smear of pain from where it exploded on his cheek. An overwhelming sense of fondness builds in Jens’ chest. He reaches out and wipes the smudge away. Kei, frozen in place, forces himself not to flinch away. His chest feels tight. He can smell Jens. Familiar in the way that he smells like himself, but foreign in the way that he smells strongly of himself. Post work out and post run, sweat mixes with his already enticing scent. Kei swallows the lump in his throat. “Sorry for the clothes.” Kei laughs dismissively. “I was already painting in them. It’s fine.” They stand quietly for a moment.

 “Should I-”

 “Can you-”

The words leave their mouths at the same time. They both stop. Jens is bright red “You go ahead first.” Kei’s face is also warm. “Can you come by tomorrow? I want to work on some stuff.” “yes!” Jens responds too quickly and too excitedly. “I mean- Yeah I’ll come over after work” Kei smiles. His heart pounding from the constant over-eagerness Jens shows him.  “Okay. Thanks. See you.” He gets in his car and drives off. Jens is smiling watching him go. Kei can see him wave through his rear view mirror. 

    Kei opens up the studio door “Thank god he didn’t insist on coming over.” He looks around the room full of sketches of Jens. The large piece he was working on is almost done. He just needs to polish up the background. The piece is a montage of sorts. Jens leaning on his chin smiling calmly, being the most in focus. But other phases of their conversation are hazily visible, a disgruntled face, a laughing face. There’s different ways he held his hands and shifted his legs as well. It’s their entire conversation all in one painting. It somehow captures his entire personality. Kei can’t prevent the serenity and exhilaration he simultaneously feels looking at the painting. This will be the main piece for the exhibit. He can just tell.

    Kei sets down the paint he just got. It was sweet of Jens to buy him a new one, they’re not cheap. This was just another reminder that Jens is a genuinely good person, at least to Kei, he shows nothing but sincerity and open affection. Kei walks up to the painting. Prying the lid off the can, he dips his brush. He starts in the corners. Carefully filling in the background. He paints a stroke close to jens face. Working wet paint on wet paint, the background color blends seamlessly with the warm skin tone. Kei pauses, studying it. Wait, this is wrong. That’s not how he looked today. His face was, thinner maybe? Or did he shave more recently?  Kei sets down the brush and backs up. No, this isn’t him at all. He’s concerned and thoughtful. He’s- Kei  shakes his head and picks up his brush again. He begins filling in the empty space again. He’s perfect. How could I ever capture him exactly. Kei narrows his eyes. No, he’s only an inspiration, he’s not the art itself. I’m the artist, he’s just the muse. I can’t obsess over his perfection. Kei slowly drags the brush. His mind filling with conflicting thoughts. The brush catches on a bump, it snags and sweeps into the painting, a blemish on Jens face. Kei pauses, his eyes burning. A muse, a muse. It’s already tearing me apart. His face is wrong. It’s all wrong! Kei drags the brush across the paintings face. How could I ever think I was good enough to try and paint him. Everything about him is exactly how it should be. How-how could I mimic that? Kei drags the brush over the piece, dark lines crossing over eachother, Jens face is lost, it’s destroyed.

  He comes out of his fog. He untwists is furrowed brow. He pauses to see what he’s done. He gasps and drops the brush. “No! no, no, no, no!” He grabs his turpentine, dipping a rag in it. He swipes carefully and tries to remove the layer of destruction he just made “Nooo. I was working it wet on purpose and now I can’t lift this!” The colors blur together, details lost. His eyes tear up “I spent weeks on this!” He fists a hand in his hair, smearing paint across his forehead. His tears over whelming him “no no, please no” he furiously wipes at the offensive marks. Biting his lip to bleed. He winces. He wipes at it and looks at his finger, the red droplet mixing with the paint on his hands taunting him. “Fuck! FUCK!” He grabs the canvas and throws it, the easel toppling with it. Brushes clattering, a jar of turpentine shattering and the paint that Jens just bought is now spilling across the floor. “NO! No no” Kei collapses and tries to scoop the paint back into the bucket. This can’t be lost. The painting is already ruined but the paint can be saved. The broken glass digs into one of his knees. “Ah! Shit!”. He flops backwards onto his heels. All his efforts seem useless. A wasted painting, a wasted brand new can of paint, a wasted artist. He stops and sits in the mess he’s just created. Palms up he heaves a defeated cry. He can’t stop the tears from falling. His heart is twisted up in a mess of self criticism and longing. He has lost all his strength to fight the feelings overwhelming him. So Kei sobs. A heart wrenching, gut twisting sob. Every pent up emotion tumbling out of him like a busted can of paint. He wishes there were a way an exceptionally kind someone could easily buy him a new heart. He despises the Jens on the canvas. Wishing that he were as forgiving and kind as Jens in real life. His tears burn. 

    He wakes up, curled in a ball next to the painting, to his phone ringing. He answers it dejectedly, not checking to see who it is. He stares at the mess infront of him. An empty pang of grief shakes through his chest.

“… Hello?”

“Hi, I uh realized I accidentally kept one of your bags”

Kei recognizes it’s Jens voice. That deep smooth calming tone, though he sounds a little slurred. He looks at his phone it’s 12:30

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“It’s past midnight”

“I thought you’d still be up, was I wrong? Did I wake you up?”

Kei looks around the room “No, I was up”

“do you want me to bring it by? I was at a bar in the area, I can walk over now-”

“No.”

Jens sighs and then laughs “Alright Kei. I’ll bring it with me tomorrow- well today” Kei’s ears ring at the sound of his name wrapped in Jens’ tipsy voice. Kei feels the drying paint and blood on his lip. “yeah, okay”

“You okay?”

Kei stiffens “Yes. Why?”

Jens pauses for a long moment “You just sounded really sad. I’m kinda drunk though so”

“I’m hanging up now”

“yeah! Okay yeah! Ill see you tomorrow” *beep*

    Kei drops his phone with a clatter. The disappointed tone of Jens voice making his heart ache even more I just had a full break down. He looks around him, staring at the salvaged paint, and huffs a depressed laugh But he calls me like it’s nothing, offering me kindness, and I treat him like he’s a nuisance. Kei seals the lid back on the can. He trudges into the bathroom, wiping his lips clean. Kei washes his hands in the sink. Gripping the edge of the counter, he can’t convince himself to go back into the other room. He doesn’t meet his own eyes in the mirror and climbs into the tub fully clothed. 

I can’t be out there, I can’t look at his face. He curls up in the dry tub, closing his eyes. Everything aches, but he doesn’t have the strength to do anything about it. 

 

 

 

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