Savior. [Checkmate BL Manhwa Fanfiction]

Savior.

Park Moonseob was godly. At least, this is what Shinhae thought in his freshman year. He wondered how such an artist could exist. Each stroke of paint brought out complex and striking emotions more than any other painter he knew. His eyes tirelessly traced each impressionistic streak, each ethereal curve of the brush that immortalized a story that brought more questions than answers. The captivating charm that comes with Park Moonseob's paintings enveloped his mind in a chokehold. Shinhae's fingers trembled with a burning curiosity as he tried to recreate each painting in the comfy walls of his own apartment, the smell of paint burned into his nostrils. It became routine, after a while. Then finally, he gained the courage to create his own.

Shinhae's painting prowess was praised and recognized by his peers, but he knew honeyed words were a temporary fix. His existence needed to be recognized. He craved for his works to be displayed alongside one of the greats, and a tempting opportunity as alluring as the fruit dangling from Eden's tree presented itself to him in the form of a flyer. It was too good to be true, he thought as he started living in Park's studio, under his personal mentorship. His expert eyes scrutinizing his work, his knowledgeable lips whispering words of wisdom that guide every stroke of Shinhae's brush, as if Shinhae only lived to paint for him. His hands overflowing with talent and weathered with experience touched his work, touched his shoulder in comfort and reassurance. He finally became somebody worth writing home about. A protege, and a part of Park's exclusive circle, which was more than he hoped for. Renowned, respected, and talented Park, who had the key to securing Shinhae's future and setting him up for life, and many others. And possibly, he wistfully thought, someone who gave him a chance of being his successor.

It was too good to be true, and it hit him like icy water.

What was once admiration and respect churned into bitter pangs of fear, anger and regret that thrummed wildly in his chest, as found himself laid helplessly on the stained bed. Overstimulated senses begging to be shut down, begging to be rid of the roaming painter's hands that he once held in revere, that now felt dirtying and wretched. Begging to forget the burning sensation of shame plugging him full and raw over and over, a reminder of the humiliating submission of his mind, body, and soul. The utter violation of agency and happiness, things Shinhae took for granted.

He wished he never met his hero, who he once thought as a savior.

More than a God, Shinhae felt like he signed over his soul to the devil. He no longer recognized himself in the mirror, only the chains that bloomed in blues and purples in his battered, aching skin. Chains that ensured that his works were featured in galleries and murals littered around the city. With Park's help, his name finally made headlines, and through social media, he was seen by the public for the very first time. Hands attached to well-known names in the industry shaking his in vigor, eyes meeting his in empty smiles. Absentmindedly, he wondered if they were the same as Park. Park Moonseob, who thought of himself as God.

He took the lives of others upon his own hands, wringing them with no mercy. It was only through Shinhae's complete surrender that he got what he wanted, but the glimmering life the aspiring artist in him once hungered for felt stifling. Shinhae's existence only mattered when Moonseob's existence recognized his, and without him, he was nothing. He felt no better than he was when he started, because words like talent and genius grew void of meaning- with each slimy caress on the small of his back, with each coarse scream that ripped from his throat, with each lie that spilled from Park's lips outside of the personal hell he built for his prey. A hell that worsened when Jung Eunsung escaped by a hair. He was the only exception.