illusory

A few almost comical seconds ticked by in silence before Changmin remembered to lower his hand, slowly as if that would somehow make him less guilty of what had just happened and for just one desperate moment, he wondered if he could get away with saying that it could be much worse because I could have stabbed your eye out and Hi, by the way. Realistically speaking, he knew this wasn’t going to work. He cleared his throat, sort of noticing how close the other was in the same moment as he mentally reviewed the question he’d been asked and that onslaught of thank you lord combined with gods no proved to be too much to process at the same time. Which wasn’t an indicator for Changmin being particularly slow or anything, he’d just literally painted the face of their model and most of these people were vain like nothing else so he nixed the idea of mentioning how that paint was the persistent and permanent type if not washed off immediately.

Instead, he fought against the urge to let his lips twitch under the smile that threatened to creep along over them. After studying the man next to him for a few seconds, he’d come to the conclusion that he looked cute with the pink smudge next to his lips (which he definitely did not study for a few seconds longer than necessary, not at all) and at the same time utterly hilarious. Laughing at the other male, however, was not something Changmin planned to do. And so he only parted his lips a few seconds later, after being absolutely sure that he could keep a straight face and let his eyes flicker over to the painting for a moment, then back to the other’s face. “Nothing is more subjective than the perspective on someone else’s appearance, but yes I think so. Well, right now there’s obviously something ..” He trailed off, lifting his hand to lightly nudge the corner of his own mouth with his thumb before clearing his throat again, more quietly this time, while deciding that this situation was much easier to handle if he just turned back towards the painting in front of him.

"Surprisingly rude, darling," he intoned, hating the idea of having this blob on him. Sure, makeup was, in a way, painting oneself, but it certainly wasn't this, though he tried to simply quiet down his temper and not allow himself to get too annoyed. It wasn't ideal, obviously, but the little fool was clearly not going to even apologize. "Maybe you should mark your painting to match this little..." he gestured vaguely, "'subjective' decision." His tone wasn't fully irritated, and if he could gauge it correctly, his eyes hadn't shifted in color, so he was alright for now. More or less.

He was gorgeous. Not just the kind of pretty-gorgeous either; there was a distinct difference between pretty and beautiful, between simply looking like an attractive face or a fully aesthetically pleasant being that seemed to have the aura around them radiating. This man was definitely the kind of beautiful-gorgeous that made Changmin thank the Heavens for his study choices sometimes and the free ticket to shallow pining and shameless appreciation he gained under the excuse of art. At the end of the day, he was still a professional of course. A professional in training who could get carried away sometimes, but the young man possessed a sense of dedication to his work that surpassed the commitment of his class altogether — at least that was along the lines of what his teacher had said before sighing and leaving him to finish his painting, which Changmin didn’t think of abandoning just because a bell told him class was over. That had been one year ago and by now it was a natural habit for him to stay behind until the last stroke of his brush against canvas finished his latest work. The object of his current distraction didn’t have a name but Changmin quickly decided that he didn’t need one either because he was more than alright with just referring to him as ‘pretty face’ for the rest of this semester and have his best friend roll his eyes at him because you’re supposed to paint them, not ask them out on a date.

Not that Changmin had any interest in dating anyone, thank you very much. The small commotion around him signaled another end of the school day, distant voices blurring together with the sound of feet shuffling across the ground, but the young man himself barely even looked up. He’d stopped looking up a while ago, in fact, once the outlines of the male model they’d been blessed with today were safely pinned on the canvas in front of him — after that, he rarely ever bothered to study them any further. Changmin often found it easier to capture someone when he relied upon his memory and did not try to bring every angle and every line on their face onto paper in minute detail. Art was not only a form of self-expression but also freedom for him and his paintings seemed to live more easily when he went by his heart rather than his mind; it made the slope of the other’s nose a little straighter today, his lips a little fuller and the lines of his eyes a tad more seductive than they probably were outside of the hormone-blurred lens of a nineteen year old boy, but Changmin knew that his work was nonetheless one of the best. His talents were .. special, not just because he was good on what he did and for him there had never been any doubt about graduating from an art school one day to follow what he loved doing the most.

There wasn't a real reason for that, as it wasn't like the position was paid, it was simply a volunteer effort that both fed his ego and gave him something to do. When he'd first come into the classroom, he'd simply given a little wave at the classroom and said his name, letting the instructor do the rest, and it didn't take long for them to begin watching him and doing their work. The students were precious in the ways that they were so focused on their sketches and paintings and whatever else they were doing, and the ways that they were just so enamored of their art. The demon himself had never been much interested in the creation of art, but being the subject of it was something he could easily accommodate. Modeling really wasn't a very interesting job, that was for sure, it wasn't as easy as people liked to often assume, but it wasn't interesting. For the most part he was simply on the stool he'd been given to sit on and that was all, so he occupied himself with glancing about the room at the varied things on the walls and the array of students, and accommodating the occasional request for a different pose for a student to sketch.

"Chanyeol!" Seunghyun screamed, hands shaking as he grasped roughly at his former lover’s shoulders. Why wasn’t the healer breathing? Why was there still blood dripping from his body? He was a healer, wasn’t he? So why couldn’t a healer heal himself? "Chanyeol!!" the name came crying out of the fairy’s throat roughly, the burning hot tears dripping down his face like waterfalls. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped for air like mad, but he couldn’t manage to hold the breath inside of himself. It came out a mere second later, loudly and rather moist in wails and cries. This was reality now, wasn’t it? This was what the fairy would have to live with. He couldn’t have a lover without them dying in front of them, could he? First, his darling spring, and now this? Why?

In a flash, the fairy’s head whipped up to glare at the time demon, body still in pain as he began to scream. “Undo this!!” he cried, his entire body trembling as he did so. “Rewind time and bring him back to me! You cannot just take lives willy-nilly like that! Give him back to me! Haven’t you taken enough from me, you sick bastard!? First my pride and then my lover! Why can’t YOU be the one who suffers, who perishes!? Why do you insist on making it me instead!? Why!?” Before he could say any more, the fairy collapsed in a heap, bawling and clutching the corpse of the boy, wishing that he would come back. 

When Seunghyun actually turned his attention to the time demon, a laugh did emit from him, a low amused sound. "Such a pathetic being, couldn't even save your own lover. That must hurt," he gave him a look and shrugged. "I could, but I don't want to. I don't like you well enough to help you out. And you have nothing to convince me otherwise," he said and let out another soft laugh. It was a bit of a lie, he couldn't rewind time, but the other didn't know that. And he didn't have to, because the demon did as he pleased and owed an explanation to no one. Much less an arrogant little fairy. "I wonder if you'll stay so arrogant," he mused to himself, but then realized he couldn't care less.

But it was too late.

In what felt like a flash, the dagger that Takuya possessed went plunging into poor Chanyeol’s stomach, digging deep enough to damage but not enough to kill. Surely the time demon saw this as a way to bring suffering to both of them, knowing that Seunghyun was not a healer and could not patch up the poor boy like the boy could patch him up. And, what’s worse, as the second blow was delivered and Seunghyun simply stood there with his mouth agape, unable to conger any form of movements or sound, Takuya’s blazing pupils made direct eye contact with the fairy, a torment worse than death itself. The smirked at him, speaking only from the time demon’s expression. “I took what was yours.” “I killed what you loved.” “Now you have nothing.” “Now you will suffer.”

As soon as Chanyeol’s timing returned back to normal and his body fell limp to the ground, so did Seunghyun, a panicked mess, screaming the name of his love. Hurriedly, he pulled the bleeding boy close to him, tears falling rapidly from his eyes. “Chanyeol, hold on please!” the water fairy begged, eyes searching desperately to find a solution. “You can heal me just fine, right? So you can heal yourself, right!?” But all that received was a forlorn shake of Chanyeol’s head. Oh a troubled whim, the water fairy ripped the H2O from his tears and from whatever other water source was around him, attempting to use them to help clean the wounds, but even that would not stop the bleeding. Chanyeol was going to die. And Chanyeol was going to die in his arms.

"You sick bastard!!" Seunghyun screamed, eyes flaring with pure hatred and terror for the time demon still standing and watching in amusement. But Seunghyun’s cries of anger were soon hushed by the delicate voice of the other. "S-seunghyun, please…." the dying healer piped up, gazing up with pained eyes at his beloved. The water fairy’s attention automatically snapped back to the more important being at the sound of his voice, changing from anger and frustration back into sorrow and grief and guilt the moment he saw Chanyeol’s broken smile. "I-I can’t… heal myself, Seunghyun… so, I-I want you to find… someone stronger. Someone who can live through the pain of death… I’m sorry… m-my love…" 

Of course, he saw the healer as no different, wanting to make some pathetic proclamation to his 'love' when if he thought about it long enough he should have known Seunghyun would easily get past it. They always said they wouldn't, that they would cling to the memories or the love they had for someone, but they always forgot. The water fairy would be more angry about being beaten by the time demon than for killing his healer, or so Takuya predicted. He could have left the scene, left them to their sentimental last moments in order to declare some undying love that was all some last ditch comfort for the dying, but it would prove far too humorous to him later on.

At the outburst from the fairy, the demon flashed a smile, portraying an image more innocent than he would ever be again. Guilt wasn't a trait that he possessed, it was simply an overrated emotion. He sighed quietly as he watched them, uninterested but enjoying Seunghyun's pain too much to just walk away. After there was silence for a moment, Takuya lifted a brow. "Is he finally dead? That was more time consuming than I'd bargained for," he snorted. In a way he wanted to provoke the fairy to do something, to prove that he wasn't as weak as the demon had already time and again proclaimed him to be. That murdering his boyfriend would actually ignite something in him that hadn't been there before, but of course he knew he couldn't get his hopes up. 

The half veela smirked and looked the demon up and down before speaking. 

The words made a growl emit from Takuya's throat, nails digging into the flesh of the other's chest where he'd pushed him against the wall. Quickly, he slowed time, not caring that it would effect him later on. But he was going to make him pay for his words. No one would treat him as such and simply get away with it.

He only slowed the time for a short moment, the irises of his eyes spinning quickly, but it would give him enough time to do as he needed so the teacher couldn't stop him. Quickly he reached up and slashed his nails across the other student's cheek, marring his milky flesh with red wounds of anger. There was a certain arrogance about him that irritated the demon, and if he could take away even an ounce of it then he'd done as he needed to. He would get him back in full at a later date, when no witnesses were around.

Hop-skip-jump.

A few steps carried him to the top of the outcropping. Several yards below where he stood, waves crashed against the stone cropping the imaginary friend stood on. The stones were oddly shaped, hexagonal columns that formed a patchwork quilt for him to explore. Teetering on the top of one such pile, Yoseob looked down at the ocean; the height was almost dizzying, but it just made him smile. If the pixies he had heard about the place from had been telling the truth, a giant had built this as a bridge from here to the other side of the ocean. There was no sign of that bridge now; it had sunk beneath the waves. He was standing alone on the columns now, with only the roar of the ocean in his ears for company.

For centuries of encounters with demonkind littered his timeline like freckles upon tanned skin; some more pleasing and memorable than others, yet each profound and invaluable. Sui generis defined those creatures he dare not call his brothers, some shrouded in darkness, fire, cold— some partial to the deadly sins and some to nothing at all. And some, clearly, to the turning of the tides and the ticking of clocks, and he would be foolish to attempt to predict them.

"I don’t mind— you and I have plenty of time, after all." Taemin reassured the man opposite of him with a smile tinged with amusement, knowing that it was an unnecessary feat yet indulging in it nonetheless. "And I’m doing good, thank you for asking." The standard question was just that; standard, and it didn’t elicit any original response from the vampire either, but he admittedly found the politeness pleasant. “Sunlight won’t come for at least another four hours.” He said, gaze flickering from the other’s and up into the night sky for emphasis before once again settling on the demon. A slight shift in his body followed; not more than a nearly unnoticeable lean forward and the parting of his legs beneath the table, yet it spoke volumes of his interest.

Of course, the issue with desiring to utilize the powers he did have came with the aspect that every time he did, a little more time and a little more life would be taken from his existence. Mostly it never phased the demon, he had known for a long time that he would cease to be, and was well aware the each time he manipulated time that was in some way against the natural order of things, a little more time was taken from him. He didn't know how much, could only tell when his symptoms changed and he underwent some kind of alteration in his health or capacity. But it was all a gamble, one way or another, one that he continued to be willing to take.

At the mention of sunup, he glanced toward the sky, his ability and knack for time making him quite aware, though he wondered what it was like for a vampire, ones who were unable to be in a certain time of day. As one who had such an affinity for time, he could tell what hour it was and the general idea of all things related to the passing moments, but there was no amount of danger involved in any of it, no knowledge that if he were to extend his stay somewhere he would be trapped or burned. "All the time in the world," he agreed with a slight snort, both of them knowing it was far from the truth, though for far different reasons.