the artist | haobin

Chapter Five

    Zhanghao's brows furrowed slightly as he shifted on the stool, feeling the strain of maintaining a pose for an extended period. He turned his gaze towards Hanbin, his expression a mix of exhaustion and longing. "Do you mind if I light up a cigarette?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of weariness.

The latter paused, considering his request. He was aware of the toll that posing for 40 minutes had taken on the boy's body and spirit. With a nod, he replied, "Of course, go ahead. Take a moment to rest."

The boy reached into his pocket, retrieving a slender, slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. Hanbin watched as he fumbled for something, his hands slightly trembling from the effort of holding the same pose for an extended period. 

Their eyes locked in an unspoken agreement, and Hanbin leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a lighter, flicking it open with practiced ease.

Its soft glow illuminated their faces, casting dancing shadows on the walls. With a gentle touch, Hanbin brought the flame to the end of the cigarette that still rested between Zhanghao's lips, igniting it in a delicate dance of fire and smoke.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. The flickering flame illuminated their faces, highlighting the contours of the boy's lips, his relaxed posture, and the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep drag, their closeness creating an intimate space.

As Zhanghao inhaled, the ember at the end of the stick glowed brighter, casting a warm, hazy light on his features. The smoke curled and billowed, weaving intricate patterns in the air.

Hanbin's curiosity sparked a conversation as he inquired, "How long have you been smoking?" His tone was gentle, seeming genuinely interested.

The boy's eyes shifted momentarily, "A long time," he replied, his voice laced with a tinge of melancholy.

A contemplative silence settled between them, punctuated only by the faint crackling of the small fire. Hanbin took a moment to gather his thoughts, considering how he could keep the conversation going.

"You know," he began, his voice thoughtful. "I used to smoke too, but I had to stop because I couldn't afford it anymore." His words carried a hint of wistfulness, revealing a personal struggle of his.

"Sometimes, it's difficult to let go of certain habits," Zhanghao mused. "They become part of our routine, a familiar presence in our lives. It must have been tough."

The boy nodded in agreement, his gaze filled with empathy. 

"It was tough," he admitted, his voice tinged nostalgia and relief. 

Zhanghao extended the pack of cigarettes toward the other. "Want one?" he offered, a small smile playing on his lips.

Hanbin hesitated, his gaze flickering between the pack of cigarettes and his face. He could sense the underlying connection in the offer, the invitation to bridge the gap between them. But he shook his head gently, declining the offer.

"Thank you, but I'll pass," he replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We should get back to posing anyway."

The boy nodded, his smile lingering as he withdrew his belonging. He understood and respected Hanbin's decision, recognizing the importance of their current focus.

As they returned to their positions, the atmosphere shifted, settling into a comfortable rhythm of silence punctuated only by the sound of the pencil scratching against the canvas. 

Zhanghao exuded an air of confident stillness as he settled into his pose. Leaning slightly forward, his body found a comfortable balance in the chair, his posture conveying both poise and relaxed elegance. One arm rested gracefully on the armrest, its position meticulously calculated to create a captivating composition.