Work Text:
When they met by chance that day, the boy he would come to know as Akira had nodded and offered a polite smile. A kind but ordinary gesture.
When one outing led to many dates, they soon committed themselves to each other and began their life together.
When his vision started to go and the glasses became necessity instead of accessory, Yusuke remained by his side.
When not even the glasses were enough and corrective surgery was beyond a comfortable price range, Akira did his best to come to terms with things. Yusuke helped him pick the most stylish shades from the limited assortment and decorated his walking stick just the way he’d asked for it to look. Akira learned Braille.
When the time had come to consider a new exhibition, Yusuke asked for Akira’s help. “I’m trying something a bit different this time,” he’d said, a vague explanation for why he’d arranged a variety of items on a table for Akira to feel. He kept detailed notes on Akira’s opinions on each texture, committing his facial expressions to memory.
When all the long nights and tireless work had finally come together to form a series of pieces Yusuke was proud of, they prepared for a gallery opening. But before the public was allowed in, Yusuke arranged a time for just his loved ones: his old teammates and their valiant leader, the love of his life, the guest of honor.
When the doors were opened to the large room for him, Akira didn’t think much of it. Now more than ever, he was only here for Yusuke, to support him and hear his eloquent artist’s statements for each piece as many times as Yusuke wished to repeat them.
But this time feels different. It’s much quieter than opening days usually are, less stuffy and cramped. Yusuke is holding his hand like always, but there are far fewer obstacles than Akira would’ve expected. He can hear the others chatting, their voices hushed now that they’re inside such a quiet space.
Yusuke starts into an explanation just as he usually would, but as Akira continues to walk beside him, he can sense a sudden lack of presence behind them. He turns his head—out of habit—and of course, sees nothing but can hear the familiar murmurs of their friends from a little ways behind them.
When he turns back in Yusuke’s direction and asks what’s going on:
“They will get the chance to see them. But as the guest of honor, you get a special showing.”
Akira is confused. Yusuke has stopped walking and let go of his hand.
“Go on. Look at them,” his voice is gentle. “Tell me what you think.”
A small noise escapes Akira. Is this a cruel joke? That never seemed to be Yusuke’s style. After a moment of hesitation, he can feel Yusuke behind him, his arms around him as he takes both of Akira’s wrists and brings them upward. Akira’s fingertips meet what feels like feathers. He asks about this, and Yusuke encourages him to keep “looking.”
As he feels around the canvas, he can tell the items are arranged in a particular fashion and eventually gets the general sense of a face, neck, and shoulders. He feels the negative space beyond the feathers and pauses. This space is bumpier, tiny raised sections all across the bordering spaces. He gasps as the realization strikes. It’s Braille.
Yusuke has inscribed a brief description of the colors he used to make this “joyful Akira.” It’s the same for the other works. Sharp materials for his anger; carefully varied textures, a mix of hard and soft and different color schemes for every emotion in between.
Yusuke’s word choice is vivid. It’s not as simple as looking with his eyes, but everything he feels with his hands—the descriptions and textures and borders—help him to visualize each work with comparable clarity.
He turns and reaches in the direction he expects Yusuke to be and is wrapped in a solid yet gentle hug as tears flow freely from his concealed eyes. He can’t give his usual moderately insightful review of each piece, but he doesn’t need to. This isn’t about technique or aesthetics or appealing to patrons. These are just for him; they are him in a way that only Yusuke and Akira can fully appreciate.
He will never tire of hearing Yusuke explicitly say “I love you.” But these exceed even that; they are beyond words. They are his love in a language only the heart knows.