Chapter Text
Hinata has seen this boy around, painting in that one spot under the tree in the university park. Headphones in ears, sketchbook on lap and drawing. He had different art supplies with him at different days - sometimes it was watercolours, with paintbrushes scattered around him and the water cup on the verge of spilling on the grass; some days he only used simple graphite pencils, other days it was some thicker paint with tubes lined up neatly next to the mysterious boy. Hinata was curious. He never smiled, (or at least Hinata never saw him smile) and did not seem to talk to anyone, like ever. It’s not like the red-head knew who he was, just saw him a few days of the week as he was walking around campus. His dark, silky hair and gloomy expression completed this ‘depressed art student package’. It was not uncommon to see students painting or drawing around the buildings, but none have ever caught Hinata’s attention like this particular one had.
Hinata was in his second year bachelor studying media and communications, only really regretting his choice when writing particularly annoying essays on topics he did not fully understand. His classes were thankfully pretty evenly spread out, never starting too early or ending too late. And in the times between his classes or when Hinata was done for the day did he notice the art student quietly working on something in his sketchbook.
‘Is he doing all that for school or does he have too much free time to spare?’ Hinata thought once, passing when this guy had a full on easel set up, a sketch already finished and the black-haired boy was mixing colours in his pallette. It was really tempting to come up to him and ask for the person’s name and what he was painting, but the energetic rust-haired boy knew better by now than to creep out potential friends (or more) before he had a chance to make a proper impression. Hinata cringed at the memories of a few past attempts where he totally blew it with some gorgeous guys because he was too eager during the approaching stage. Thus, he settled on just observing the boy for a few minutes on the days he saw him, before moving on with his day.
Autumn months flew by fast, the wind was cold and all the students were rushing to their classes and into warm buildings, no one really hanging out outside for long. Consequently, Hinata stopped seeing the art kid outside as well.
‘Shame,’ he thought. What turned into a secret pleasure routine, ended abruptly. Nothing to spice up his walk to and from class. At least that was what he thought until he walked into the cafe to see the boy sitting in a far corner, hunched over a tablet, stylus pencil in hand and a steaming cup with whatever beverage he enjoyed.
Now that was a development Hinata liked to see.
The cafe called “Voron” (Hinata had yet to ask what that means and what language was that) was conveniently located halfway between his tiny but cozy rented apartment and the main university building. It was on the smaller side, but it had good coffee that did not make his wallet cry and had many plants. Needless to say Hinata was sold. The exposed brick wall and soft, warm brown tones of the furniture and picture frames always made him feel at peace. Usually the second year would buy himself an iced latte (more milk than coffee) with syrup and a baked treat for takeaway, but as the seasons changed the drink choice turned warmer and moved onto the table.
Hinata eyed the raven-haired male as he sat down at the table not too far from his, coffee and blueberry muffin balancing on one hand. He has not looked up once, which gave the orange haired confidence to continue throwing more glances than was probably socially acceptable. Regardless, he had an essay to complete, so his gaze only really wandered to the boy when he was thinking and/or drifting off topic. Hinata absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the table to the soft RnB tune in the cafe, until he heard a shuffling noise that made his fingers freeze up. The art boy stood up, placing his tablet on the table. The stylus he was using rolled away, Hinata’s eyes trailed on it until the tall boy caught it and moved it to its place. He proceeded to stand up and approach the counter.
He was talking with the barista as Hinata pondered on the idea of trying to sneak a peek on what the guy was drawing. He realised he never actually saw any of his paintings or works, as he was more focused on his face and expression and the long fingers… yea, Hinata might have had a deeper crush on the guy than he thought, and he did not even know of his existence.
The question was - was he about to go to the bathroom and ‘accidentally’ linger a little near the boy’s seat? Apparently he took way too long hesitating, as the boy returned to the table with a plate of sandwiches, just as Hinata began walking in the direction of the bathroom. They passed each other and the rust-haired boy realised just how short he was in comparison. He rushed away with slightly reddened cheeks. He liked the fact that the other guy was so big, it was both oddly comforting and enticing.
He returned to find the dark-haired typing away at something on his laptop, art stuff put away. ‘Huh, I guess he does have normal school work’. And that was that.