Chapter Text
shuffled song: paint me by joey richter and rachael soglin
pairing: marciego
The Studio’s assignments could vary in genre and difficulty, but there used to be nothing Marco was afraid of facing. He was a good dancer and an even better singer, and he had a knack for putting his whole self into his art. Most times, anyways, if there was some problem with the task at hand, he’d just vent to his girlfriend, and Francesca would pat him on the head or run her hands through his hair and pretty much fix everything.
Now, they were broken up. Amicably, but the so-called task at hand wasn’t the easiest to explore with your ex-girlfriend. Especially when Marco was pretty sure she was the last person who wanted to hear about this specific problem of his.
The Studio assignments usually helped him get his mind off of things or focus his stress on something that wasn’t his personal baggage. But now, with a paintbrush in his hand and his eyes staring directly into Diego’s, he had to eat his own words.
Beto had had the great idea of raising the stakes on his latest assignment: since this in-couples songwriting exercise wasn’t getting anywhere, he decided to get every student to paint the other to “get more spiritually connected” or something. It didn’t make much sense, but most students were happy to get a break from the more conventional homework they were used to. Most of them, except for Marco. He was paired with Diego, and if he had to look at his perfect jawline and insufferably sculpted body for one second longer, he might actually go insane.
He’d always considered him his best friend. But around when everyone found out about his and Ludmila’s plan, someone, maybe Maxi, said to him: “How can you defend him still? After all he’s done?” And his instant reaction was: “Because I love him.” And though his tongue was in the process of forming the following words, “He’s my best friend,” something in him made him stop in his tracks. Oh, shit, he thought. I love him. And suddenly it made so much sense.
After that, it was all a blur. Marco and Francesca broke up for some reason, and then way too fast, she and Diego were starting to become close. He couldn’t help but stand and watch as the two people closest to him started sneaking around behind his back, hiding their blossoming relationship as if he wouldn't notice. But he might’ve been going away soon, after all. And he would’ve left without ever telling him how he felt. Because his feelings were tangled and messy and there was just no way of explaining them.
“Listen, are we going to be here a while?” Diego woke him up with a tone somewhere between sympathetic and annoyed. “Just draw anything and let’s get on with it.” Marco rolled his eyes. “No, this has to be perfect, don’t you want a good grade?”
“Not if I have to pose all day, I don’t.”
“I want to get you right,” Marco blurted out. He could feel himself blushing, but that was the truth. Diego smirked, an eyebrow raised. “What does that mean?”
Marco hated him. “It means what it means, idiot!”
“Look, just-” Diego thought of the right words to offer him. “Paint how you see me.”
“Ah, very insightful,” Marco smiled sarcastically. The way he saw Diego wasn’t easy to put down in a stupid little painting, he might’ve needed an entire mural and every paint colour in the world. Once again, tangled and messy.
He started with his short, scruffy hair. The Studio light almost made it glow like a star in the night, but that was way too artistic to portray with brownish paint. He added his cute nose he’d dreamt so many times of just kissing the top of, and had to look away for a second.
“What, am I so ugly?” Diego teased him. He seemed to enjoy the hell out of Marco’s reactions, which only helped make Marco more uncomfortable. “Shut up,” he groaned, and Diego smiled. Marco took a mental picture of his smile: so assholish, yet so unmistakably him. He wished he could make him smile all the time, by telling him a stupid joke or just how much he loved him, so cheesily Diego would laugh out loud. “Hey Picasso, are you done staring?”
“Uh- what?” Marco hid behind the canvas and resolved to just paint a small smile, a small fraction of the magnetic power that oozed from his lips.
Now, onto Diego’s body. He always looked so lovely- and Marco couldn’t explain his feelings easily, especially not in a school assignment. He thought for a moment of just drawing a stick figure and making peace with it, but God bless him, he was a perfectionist.
Diego stared at Marco’s concentrated expression with a grin. It was incredible, watching how much thought and care he put into everything. Even a stupid assignment no one else gave this much of a shit about, he decided to keep Diego in the Studio after hours just to do it exactly right. That was one of the many things he loved about his best friend. If he knew Diego had to cancel his plans with Francesca to stay out late with him, he’d get mad, and make a fuss about how he needed to treat her better. Blind boy, he never noticed how much Diego just wanted to spend time with him. And now that he might’ve been leaving for London, he could actually never know. Diego just wanted to tease and taunt him until he exploded and made his feelings clear. But Marco was a tough cookie. And a very dumb one at that.
“I- I think I got everything,” Marco mumbled, looking at his canvas thoughtfully. “Your essence and all. I…hope you like it.”
“My essence?” Diego joined Marco in front of the canvas. The painting was beautiful, and Diego found himself looking into a picture of him, but somehow a better version: the hair was his, the nose, smile and body, it was him, but in a different light, a somehow more positive light. It was true, after all, that even after everything, Marco saw something in him no one else did. Perhaps it was held all in this painting. “It’s…amazing, Marco.”
“You really think so?” Marco smiled giddily. “I do…though don’t you think you forgot something?”
“Forgot?” He glanced at the painting again. As soon as he realised, he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “The eyes. How did I forget the fucking eyes?! I was staring into them the whole time!”
“Calm down-”
“No, I can’t calm down! I’m so stupid- just get back in position, please.”
Diego didn’t move from where he was standing, though, incredibly close to his friend. “Or you could just draw them from here.” Marco gulped, turning a new shade of red. “Y-yeah, I guess.” And he picked up his brush once more, glueing his stare to the canvas. The eyes came out great, but he was clearly painting them from memory. “Hey, you can look at me.”
“I’m almost done-”
“Marco, look at me.”
Marco nearly crumbled from the soft tone Diego decided to use, but he couldn’t help but obey him. “It’s perfect that way. Just leave it be.”
“Ok, I guess that’s it then…”
“I like how you see me,” Diego whispered so only Marco could hear. They were probably the only two people in the Studio at the moment, but it felt even more intimate now that they were this close. “Thank you…”
“Do you want to know how I see you?”
“H-how do you see me?” Marco whispered, too, now.
“I don’t think it’s something a paintbrush can capture. Let me just be more hands-on.” Diego said almost directly into his ear, then got so close to his lips Marco felt his hot, minty breath on himself. Diego stopped, asking for consent to go any further. “This is how I see you.”
After a moment of total shock, Marco’s lips curved in a shy but excited smile. “I think it’s the same as I see you,” he said, using a similarly soft tone, and closed the distance.