Chapter Text
The brush swirled across the white canvas, building up the pretty picture of a sunset. the paint mixed together beautifully. See, Michael was an art major in university and hell was he good at it. Once his brush touched the material, you could already see the beauty bloom. It was as if it was a wand, casting a spell on the paper to give it the beauty of a painting.
he took a sip from his coffee that was beside him, spitting it out on the floor once he realised it was the dirty brush water. michael chuckled to himself at his silly mistake and stood up, deciding to take a small break. he had been painting a few hours, anyway. the artist stood up from his wooden stool, wiping his paint covered hands on his dirty paint covered overalls. he looked up, blinking his eyes to get them used to his normal surroundings, as they had been glued to the canvas for too long.
His small, dainty apartment held paintings after paintings, some too big to fit on his wall as his walls were practically covered in colour, and some tiny and resting on a desk. He had started to work on the ceiling, making clouds and a bright blue sky but slowly, as you went through the apartment, it changed to stars and a jet black sky. it was slowly coming together, half of the room painted and the other a boring white splurge.
he smiled at his work. he was creating his perfect home, his dream home where he could truly express himself the way he wanted to, with no rules whatsoever.
michael grabbed his phone a second, checking the time before inhaling fast. he scrambled, grabbing his tote bag, recent painting and a few other items as he had to be in class in just under half an hour. he hated being late, so he rushed out as fast as he can and headed into the direction of his campus building.
He walked into the large, art building, his latest painting wrapped in a white sheet of cloth to protect it. It was mountains with a mist covering it causing it to look blurred and fogged up. In Michael’s eyes, it was beautiful and only took him a few hours which was good considering all his paintings of that size took a day or more. The red-haired boy walked into the slightly dimly lit art room and noticed a tanned boy sat on a stool, completely stripped of his clothes, posing and flexing. It wasn’t uncommon that they got a naked person to paint, but there was something about this particular boy; his skin was a pretty light olive colour and covered in a few tattoos. His hair was a fluffy mess of brown with blond streaks at the front and his eyes matched his hair; brown, but they were so dark it almost looked black. He wished he could study him more because everything about him looked angelic. His lips were plump and pink, a light shine on them as he nervously licked them. Like what was mentioned before; he was completely naked, the only thing covering him was a leaf which, he had to admit, was pretty big to cover his parts.
“Michael!” He heard a voice call and he blushed once he realised he was staring. “This is an amazing art piece, now sit at the far corner. We’re getting ready to paint.” The professor chuckled at the flustered artist. Michael was his star pupil; he was never late (he was early most days in fact) and he just had a strong passion for art, something the professor hadn’t seen for years. The younger boy nodded and moved to his seat, waiting for the rest of the people to come.
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Michael had been painting for hours, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration. His brush was just clearing things up; defining the slight abs and going over any mistakes he had made. He was the first to finish and, in everyone's mind, his was the best. The detail was immaculate and honestly, he was proud of it, but he couldn’t take full credit; it was mainly the angelic man who sat in front of him, as he and his body was a masterpiece without him even trying. He was truly mesmerizing and caused Michael to stare longer. He needed to get this boys name, but as of that moment, he called him an angel because the boy who sat naked in front of him truly was an angel.
Once everyone had finished, Michael made his way over to the angel boy who was frantically tugging on his clothes. He looked pretty even half dressed. Once he noticed the artist, he smiled shyly. “I saw your painting; it’s really fucking good.” The boy talked and Michael noticed a happy glint in his eyes. He wanted to make him happy all the time like that. The red-haired boy blushed bashfully at the compliment and looked down.
“It was all you. I mean I can’t paint beauty out of nothing.” He mumbled back earning a chuckle from the angelic boy. “Maybe one day I can have a private session?” The older boy asked while wiggling his eyebrows, thinking about how many beautiful paintings he could paint of the boy. His suggestion brought a blush to the model's cheeks. No one had asked that to him because, in his eyes, he wasn’t good enough to be made into something so pretty. He only modelled because it paid well and he got to see such creative outcomes, although he didn’t see himself worthy of it. He wasn’t perfect; his flaws were all he saw. He hated how his eyes were so dismal and his hair was so basic. He hated the shape of his nose because it wasn’t small like most people - it was wide. He hated his body because it looked so generic to him; so typical. It wasn’t particularly different or amazing so it confused him when the artist had suggested such a thing.
He laughed quietly. “I’m sure you don’t want to paint me, really. I’m not that special.” His words made Michael gasp to himself, shaking his head fast in disagreement. His being caught his attention, which was rare. He interested the artist enough that he wanted to paint him in his spare time. He wanted to capture his full beauty, from the sparks of colour in his eyes to the shines on his lips.
“It’ll be an honour to have such a beautiful person to paint,” he commented with a cheeky wink. He really wasn’t lying although the younger boy thought otherwise. You might think that Michael had developed feelings for him but it was an artist admiration. A mere infatuation for the naked angel. He simply thought of the boy as a model for him as his beauty was breathtaking. a muse for his paintings. “Now, I need your number so I can call you up and see if you still want to take up my offer.” The angelic boy grabbed his phone and typed his number in, blushing as he did so.
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To: Angel,
Hey, it’s Michael. Just wanted to message you to save my number.
From: Angel,
Who’s Michael?
To: Angel,
The person who painted you. Oh yikes yeah, I forgot to say my name. Well, I’m Michael.
From: Angel,
Ohh. Michael suits you. I’m Calum.
Michael repeated the name in his head. The angelic boy did look like a Calum now he thought about it. He smiled because he now had a name for him; Calum although he was still going to call him angel.
To: Angel,
Pretty name for a pretty boy.
From: Angel,
You’re nicer than my close friends wow.
Michael smiled at that with a slight blush, closing his phone to go back to painting. He had started on a new painting now; it was a broken angel which had no features except for big, brown eyes.