Ship/Member: joshua/jeonghan
Major Tags: pygmalion/galatea, greek myth
Additional Tags: art-making as obsession, also looking for love as obsession, joshua is deathly afraid of vulnerability, when all your wishes come true in the worst possible way
Permission to remix: Yes

title/last line stolen from carmen maria machado’s her body and other parties. I hope this was to your liking, nonny!
(crossposted to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36507247)

***
a heart i swear i’d recognise
is made out of my own devices
– one sweet love, sara bareilles


it is the fifth day in a row that joshua has spent in his studio, sleepless and white-knuckled as he grips his chisel. any moments of intermittent sleep are caught against the spongy couch or the bare hardwood floor, and each time he awakes fitfully with another imperfection to chip away at gently. he cannot bring himself to quite leave it as it is, even though it is already the most beautiful thing his hands have made, not when the marble does not yet match the face he’s been dreaming for weeks.

this must be what the old masters referred to as divine inspiration, he thinks. when the dream had first come to him he’d been certain it was foretelling his meet-cute with the most beautiful man he’d seen, but the idea of falling in love with someone new, of opening himself up to hurt again was too much. one sunny afternoon when he’d unboxed a new block of marble, though, he swore he could feel the soul within it. a face crying out to be seen. joshua had started work immediately.

he steps back, now, to peer at his work with a critic’s eye. one hand, trembling lightly from the lack of sleep, rises to check the proportions of the statue’s features, measured against the impossible image that had been seared into his mind. into his heart. what reason was there to go out and sacrifice his still-beating heart in pursuit of imperfect love when the gods had already given him the instruments to craft perfection on his own?

almost there, he thinks, a little shiver rippling through him. closing the distance between him and the statue once more, joshua picks up his chisel, buffing away at the edge of the cheekbone. he cups the cold marble jaw with one hand, brushing away the stray chips of discarded marble. as if driven by something else entirely, joshua presses his lips to the perfect curve of the statue’s own, eyes growing hazy as he slips into the space between dream and waking. “you’re almost perfect,” joshua breathes. “i can’t wait to meet you.”

/

the next few days joshua spends in something of a fugue state, floating between the statue and the worn couch in the corner of his studio. he works feverishly, obsessively looking at the marble edges, chiseling away at irregularities that cannot be seen by any eye other than his, and praying with his knees pressed bruisingly into the floorboards.

praying he will finally be done. praying he will look at his work and feel satisfaction. praying he will look at it – at him – and feel recognition. praying for him to transcend the stone confines of his body.

the others come to his studio when they can, knocking and calling his name worriedly. mingyu even tries to force feed him some soup, insisting he’s losing himself to the hunger. joshua can only bring himself to smile and nod for as long as it takes for them to wear themselves out and leave.

/

joshua wakes one day to the sound of a voice that is distinctly not his in the studio and his face twists into a scowl at the thought of having to abandon today’s tasks to entertain yet another of his well-meaning friends. he twists his wrist to check the time – 4:23 am blinks back at him from the shiny face of his watch. there was no way someone would’ve come at this hour.

he pushes his hair out of his face, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and grabs the nearest sharp object he can find. quietly, quietly, joshua eases himself up from the floor, panicked eyes darting around the room as the wields the chisel like a deadly dagger.

the room is vacant. the padlock on the door remains intact. none of his things are moved. as joshua takes inventory of these things, his pulse gradually ticks back down to a more human pace.

“hello?” he calls out hesitantly, the sound rebounding off the walls.

“hello, joshua.”

joshua’s head spins trying to place the sound. eventually he sees it. the way his statue – though there’s no way this is real – is straightening itself out, tilting its head to focus its gaze on joshua.

he can’t decide if he should run to it or away.

eventually he decides that his own creation is unlikely to harm him, and that even if he tries, joshua is armed with the one thing in the studio capable of hacking away at its – flesh? he shakes off the thought, crossing his fingers in hope that it won’t come to that.

joshua crosses the space until he’s just an arm’s length from the marble form, though now that he’s closer he can see that the cool tone of the stone has warmed up ever so slightly. he exhales in a stutter of air, bringing one hand to his feverish temple. though this is precisely what he’d prayed for deliriously, the reality of it is just nauseating. maybe this is just a trick of the light. a bad dream. a bad trip.

“thank you for making me,” the impossible statue speaks, and joshua pinches his arm right in the crook of his elbow, the blinding pain confirming that this is in fact happening. “my name is jeonghan.”

“joshua,” he replies weakly.

“joshua,” the statue – the man, now – repeats, nodding with a placid smile on his perfect, perfect lips, though the light doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he reaches one hand out to cup joshua’s cheek and when he flinches away, jeonghan’s carefully etched smile finally cracks into a petulant frown. “joshua – i’m not going to hurt you.” his fingers grab at his cheek again, more insistently this time. “i love you, and i am not going to hurt you.”

ahh thank you!! this is such a kind message