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Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Smack.
“Fuck.”
It’s early—too early—when Daichi wakes up and slaps his phone to put an end to the incessant beeping of his alarm. Squinting at the screen, he wonders exactly why he chose to set his alarm for 7 A.M., and concludes that it’s because nighttime Daichi (optimistic, motivated, excited about the day to come) really, really hates morning Daichi (not those things). Which isn’t to say he hates mornings; he does manage to get up and be productive pretty quickly every day, but the first few minutes are always bad, and this week has been more trying than most.
The first thing Daichi sees when he finishes going through his notifications from the previous night (mostly Twitter messages from Kuroo) is the pile of still-closed moving boxes in the corner of his bedroom. He remembers then, as his synapses finally start firing, that he hasn’t finished unpacking. Damn. He’s been trying to get all of his stuff arranged in his new apartment since Wednesday, and even though he doesn’t start work for another week and therefore has nothing to do, he still isn’t done. Something about the endless supply of boxes to empty and the seemingly infinite number of household items to put away is really starting to depress him.
Daichi sighs heavily as he stands up, tosses his phone onto his bed, and drags a hand over his face. “I have to get out of this place today,” he mutters to himself, massaging his temples. He’ll have to come up with something to do after his morning run. Hopefully his new city of residence has something good to offer.
The September air is crisp and cool this early in the morning, providing the perfect atmosphere for Daichi’s daily run. The sidewalks he follows as he jogs are surprisingly empty, although cars have started to populate the streets. He decides to forego his music for today, opting instead to focus on taking in the buildings around his apartment to see if any of them stand out to him.
After half a mile or so, a bit closer to the heart of the city, Daichi spots a gorgeously designed building that looks out of place against the backdrop of sleek, modern urban stores and restaurants surrounding it. The entrance is flanked by ornate pillars, before which are a set of light marble stairs; although it’s the same height as most of the buildings nearby, it somehow manages to tower over them in its grandeur. Well. There’s something different.
Pulling up a map on his phone, Daichi sees that the eye-catching building in question is, in fact, the city’s main art museum. It’s not what he would normally go for on a day off, but it’s definitely better than sitting in his apartment all day, and he might as well do something out of the ordinary while he’s at it.
The jog back to his apartment seems to pass more quickly now that Daichi has something in mind to look forward to. He strips off his now-sweaty athletic tee and running shorts, tossing them into his laundry hamper, and grabs one of his better-looking t-shirts and a nice pair of dark jeans to change into after his shower. A museum visit probably doesn’t warrant anything that fancy, right?
As he runs his hands through his hair, music from his phone speakers coming through the sound of the water, Daichi thinks about what he wants out of his life. Nothing too serious—he isn’t the kind of person who ponders deep philosophical questions while he showers—but just why he’s here, in this city. He moved here for a new job, a great opportunity with a well-respected company, but… is that all? Is that the only reason he uprooted his life and left all of his friends in his hometown behind? No, of course not. It’s not that Daichi isn’t, or wasn’t, happy. He likes to think that he’s content with his life. Good job, nice apartment, loving friends and family, even if they aren’t all nearby—there’s nothing to complain about. But something feels missing.
He decides not to dwell on that too much.
Now freshly cleansed, Daichi towels his hair mostly dry and pulls on the clothes he laid out earlier. He’s completely awake now, and absolutely starving from his run. Thankfully, he’s already unpacked his kitchen supplies and gone grocery shopping, so he’s able to cook himself breakfast in the mornings.
Daichi rummages through his fridge for the ingredients of his go-to omelette—eggs (obviously), ham, cheddar, spinach, tomatoes, and onions—and grabs the almost-empty container of cream cheese while he’s at it. Why not add half a bagel, right?
On days like this, Daichi is very grateful for his omelette-making skills. He finishes up his breakfast, now feeling much better about his day and largely not thinking about the general void in his life. “Okay,” he says to himself. “Phone, wallet, keys, jacket… alright, that’s everything.” I guess I’m doing this now.
The view of the museum as he approaches it is somehow even more impressive than when he passed it earlier. Now that it’s open, he can see light from the interior spilling out of the doors onto the front steps, people already starting to stream in despite the relatively early hour.
As he walks inside, Daichi is taken slightly aback by the sheer size of the opulent marble entrance hall. Its ceiling is higher than he expected, with a decadent chandelier shimmering overhead. There’s already a decent-sized crowd in the building, and he supposes that this museum is more of an attraction than he initially thought.
Daichi approaches the admission counter just inside the entrance and goes up to the only available attendant, an energetic-looking young woman with short blonde hair. She perks up as he gets to the desk and launches almost immediately into what Daichi assumes is the standard admission spiel.
“Hi, welcome to the Urban Institute of Art! Are you interested in purchasing admission for the day?”
“Yes, thanks. Just for myself, so one adult,” Daichi says, handing over his credit card.
The attendant (whose name tag, he now notices, reads ‘Hitoka’) takes his card and swipes it through the reader to the right of her computer, which chimes affirmatively. “Okay, great! And would you like to join one of our guided tours? There’s no additional fee, but we have one leaving shortly, so you’ll have to join them quickly if you don’t want to wait another half hour.”
“Oh, thank you. Yeah, I should probably do that. I’ve never been here before, so it’s probably in my best interest to have someone more competent than me show me around,” Daichi replies with a gentle chuckle.
The young woman—Hitoka—smiles at Daichi sunnily as she hands him his credit card, an admission ticket, and a guide to the museum. “You won’t regret it! Sugawara is one of our best tour guides. I’m sure you’ll have a great time!”
Hitoka’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Daichi finds himself smiling back at her. “I look forward to it.”
As Daichi approaches the group, he hears the voice of someone that he assumes must be Sugawara. “Okay, everybody! We’re gonna be starting right on time, so make sure you’ve got everything with you and we will begin the tour!”
Daichi’s first thought is that whoever this Sugawara is, he must be an absolutely gorgeous singer. His voice is so beautiful that Daichi thinks his ears were made specifically to hear it, because how else could it sound so perfect?
Daichi’s second thought, as he locates the source of the beautiful voice and locks eyes with its owner, is Oh, fuck, he’s HOT.
What the hell is the tour going to show Daichi when the art is right here?
Soft-looking silver hair frames the gentle hazel eyes looking back at him, set in a face glowing with passionate warmth. There’s a mole under the man’s left eye, the only mark on his delicate, flawless skin. His lips are curved in an alluring smile as he acknowledges Daichi’s presence with a faint nod, and what the fuck, he is so gorgeous.
I am not going to survive this tour.
Sugawara leads their group through the main floor of the museum, which, as he explains, is primarily their wing for European Renaissance and Baroque art. “We’re very lucky at the moment to have a special exhibit going on with a number of paintings on loan to us from the Gemäldegalerie in Berlin,” he notes, and although Daichi knows absolutely nothing about international art museums, he gathers that this is a fairly big deal.
Daichi tunes out a bit as he loses himself in the gallery’s splendor, because as attractive as he finds Sugawara’s voice, he is enthralled by the paintings covering the walls of the wing. He doesn’t remember ever finding art museums this entrancing, but something about the novelty of the city, he thinks, makes it all feel special somehow.
One painting in particular catches his eye as the tour group stops in a room centered around the Italian Baroque. Daichi doesn’t know why, but something about the artwork resonates deep inside him. The softness of the painting contrasts with the action occurring at its center, where an angelic figure descends into the midst of an encounter between two other men—one of whom appears to be the devil—interrupting it in a dramatic fashion.
Daichi thinks the winged figure in the painting reminds him just a little bit of Sugawara. Not only because he thinks Sugawara is so beautiful he could be an angel, but also because there’s something graceful about the figure that makes him think of the way Sugawara moves like a dancer as he walks, all fluid movements and elegant curves.
He’s startled out of his reverie when the man in question comes up next to him and sighs softly, his hands behind his back as he gazes up at the painting. “I see this one has caught your eye, huh?” Sugawara asks with a gentle smile before continuing. “This is one of my favorite paintings in this exhibit. It has quite the fascinating backstory, with some really interesting history between the artist and Caravaggio…”
Daichi only half hears what he’s saying, because now he’s staring at Sugawara instead of the painting, as the man continues his quiet yet spirited explanation. He only realizes that he’s been focused on Sugawara’s face when he finishes his commentary and turns to look at Daichi, meeting his eyes.
Fuck.
Daichi feels his face heat up as Sugawara gives him a coy smile, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Of course, there’s also the very intriguing homoeroticism inherent to the painting,” he remarks as he returns his gaze to it.
Daichi chokes a bit and prays that his face isn’t the color of a ripe tomato.
With one final glance and subtle smile at Daichi, Sugawara turns back to the group scattered throughout the room and announces that they’re moving on to the next exhibit.
Daichi is so fucking gay.
By the end of the tour, Daichi has managed to not completely lose his mind at the prospect of talking to Sugawara. The group has returned to the lobby and people have started breaking away in twos and threes, while Sugawara talks with a few of the remaining members. Daichi lingers behind until eventually everyone has departed to go their separate ways, with only Sugawara left.
Sugawara catches sight of Daichi and beams at him, making Daichi start to panic a little again. “Ah, it’s you, Mr. Sacred and Profane Love. I don’t believe I caught your name before the tour started…?”
Daichi wonders if he’s imagining the flirtatious look in Sugawara’s eyes.
“Um, Sawamura Daichi,” he manages to say without floundering.
Sugawara smiles even wider at that. “That’s a lovely name. Daichi. Can I call you Daichi?”
You can call me anything you want, Daichi thinks. “Yes, of course. Yeah,” he replies.
“Well, then, what can I do for you, Daichi? And please, call me Suga,” the other man says.
Okay, Daichi definitely isn’t imagining it.
“Well, I just moved here last week, and I was wondering, since you’re such an excellent tour guide,” Daichi begins, pausing to take a much-needed breath, “if you would maybe be willing to show me around the city sometime? Obviously, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry to impose—”
“Oh, I’d be more than happy to,” Suga interrupts. “Really, it’s no problem. Are you doing anything later today?”
Daichi blinks. “Um. No. No, I’m not.”
“Good,” Suga replies, withdrawing a card from his pocket and scribbling something on the back of it. “Here’s my number. I get off of work at 5, so… maybe I can show you around a little then?”
“Yes, that works. That’s great. Thank you so much, that works perfectly.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you later, then. Take care,” Suga says, and hands him the card with a wink. A wink.
Daichi is absolutely certain that his face resembles a beet right now. “You too,” he responds, with only a slight shake to his voice.
As Daichi returns to his apartment, he looks at the writing on the card, and sure enough, there’s Suga’s number. His name is signed underneath with a heart, and at the very bottom is one last line that just about kills Daichi.
The museum really is gorgeous, but I think you're my favorite work of art ;)