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Loving an artist has its ups and downs.
There’s the obvious differences — Shouto sees the big picture while Katsuki obsesses over details. Shouto gives into impulses while Katsuki prefers to step back and consider his options. Shouto’s favorite color is a light pastel blue. Katsuki likes burgundy. But Shouto loves to combine those colors even if they clash just a little bit because he says it represents them.
Katsuki never understands it. Color theory, rule of thirds, music boxes, and replacement guitar strings — foreign as they come, they have become the things that remind Katsuki of Shouto. He’d hear a song and send it to Shouto, who would already have an entire history lesson about the artist stashed somewhere in that mind palace of his. He’d show Shouto a picture and Shouto would point out how the lighting highlights certain points. He came to appreciate polaroids and old films because Shouto collected old DVDs and carried around a camera he bought from the thrift store.
The consequences come in when the colors they have clash to the point that they’re screaming at each other at 3am. It would be about the most ridiculous things and Katsuki would find Shouto sleeping on the rooftop because he doesn’t want to be comforted. But when he extends that olive branch the next afternoon, burgundy and pale blue would soon intertwine again — into a painting called forgiveness. It would look like sunrises peeking through dirty buildings and pigeons chasing rats on the pavement.
It’s Katsuki’s favorite painting. No museum could replicate it because the canvas resides only in his mind — among the myriad of Shouto’s smiles captured on mental polaroid pictures and his laughter preserved on a cassette tape.
He’s learned to appreciate art just as long as Shouto is the one explaining it all. He’d be in the first row for all of Shouto’s gigs, the guy who’d cheer the loudest after every set, and be the first one to ask questions about his latest masterpiece. Katsuki has found that even if he barely understood Shouto’s career, he’d follow Shouto to the ends of this earth.
“Can I present you with a hypothetical?” Shouto asked one day on both of their days off. On weekends, Shouto would work at a record store but he was home early today. Katsuki chose to work at home for most of the week until the lab was fixed.
He put his coffee cup down and pushed his glasses back. “You know I love being presented with hypotheticals.”
“Okay, picture this…” Shouto plopped down on Katsuki’s lap, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and his other hand fiddling with Katsuki’s pajama shirt. “A skylight, 53rd floor, wide open space, and a guest bedroom.”
Katsuki hums, kissing Shouto’s neck as he describes this hypothetical living space. “That sounds like a dream.”
“One you’ve maybe had before?”
“Baby, what’s this about?” Katsuki wraps his arms around Shouto’s waist and squeezes him a little. “I’m starting to think this hypothetical thing isn’t exactly make-believe.”
Shouto stays silent for a long while. Katsuki is about to say something when Shouto shifts to look at him directly.
“I saw the email from the University in England.” He ducks his head, playing with Katsuki’s fingers. “They want a reply by Wednesday and it’s Tuesday today.”
Ah. Katsuki knew this conversation was coming. For about three years, Katsuki has been working in a simple research facility with less than decent pay for the work that he does. He earns enough to pay his part of rent and utilities for their apartment but he’s been looking into jobs in big universities or companies just so he isn’t living paycheck to paycheck. His search landed him an offer with a prestigious research lab in an English university — thousands of miles from home.
And he hasn’t answered them back.
“I have a whole 24 hours before I should get back to them.” He reasons, lacing their fingers together and pressing his forehead against Shouto’s arm. Shouto tenses a bit and Katsuki could feel his boyfriend take a deep, shaky breath.
“Are you gonna say yes?”
Katsuki pauses. “What do you want me to say?”
“I think you know.”
“No. I don’t. Every time I bring this up, you change the subject. Now, you’re bringing it up yourself so that tells me you have an opinion about it.”
Shouto scoffs. “I have opinions about many things.”
“This would be the first time I hear one about my career.” Katsuki shifts in his seat so that Shouto has no choice but to stand up. Not long after, Katsuki tugs on Shouto’s hand so that he stands between Katsuki’s legs. He looks up at his boyfriend and spots every emotion flickering through the eyes he loves to look at so much. “Shouto, talk to me.”
Shouto is a painter. He uses oil pastels, watercolor, or even acrylics to express the things he wants to tell the world. More often than not, a blank canvas would replace a real conversation and Katsuki has gotten used to that. Years of studying every idiosyncrasy has made Katsuki almost fluent in Shouto’s own unique language so naturally it takes Shouto a while to find the words he needs to say — because he is desperately trying to speak a language that he thinks only Katsuki knows.
“You’d have to move to another country.” He eventually says and Katsuki could see the beginning of tears forming in his eyes. He wants to reach up and wipe them away but he knows Shouto needs this. He needs to feel those tears fall down his cheeks or else he’ll just push away those emotions and never talk about them again. And Katsuki is patient, always has been when it comes to Shouto. So, he’ll wait as long as he needs to.
“It might be permanent depending on your tenure. And… you’re brilliant, Kat. You’ll probably get it faster than anyone.”
Katsuki smiles, kissing the back of Shouto’s hand. “Thanks, baby, but you’re dodging around what you actually want to say to me.”
“I just… it’s so far away.” The first tear falls and it breaks Katsuki’s heart to see him like this. He knows that letting Shouto talk and say what’s really on his mind will help him but it doesn’t make it any less painful to see his precious baby cry. All he could do right now is hold Shouto’s hands so that he doesn’t hide his face from him. Because he knows Shouto will want to hide these tears from him, maybe cover his face with his hands, but Katsuki would rather see the fat crocodile tears than the aftermath.
“I don’t think I could… god, this probably sounds selfish, huh? Never mind, it’s stupid–” There he is, pulling away and hiding. But Katsuki is not gonna have any of that.
“What did I say about you being too hard on yourself?” He tightens his grip on Shouto’s hands, rubbing soothing circles on his palms, kissing every inch of skin as Shouto breathes unevenly. “Breathe with me, baby.”
Katsuki takes Shouto through simple breathing exercises until he can see him visibly calm down. Though his eyes still portrayed the slightest bit of panic, he didn’t look like he was gonna spiral into a full-blown attack. During that time, Katsuki has led Shouto to the couch and has gathered him into his arms so that Shouto could focus on his steady heartbeat. After a few more minutes, Shouto’s breathing stabilizes and Katsuki continues.
“If it’s actually stupid, you know I’ll say it is. But I don’t think what you’re trying to say is stupid if it’s so hard for you to articulate.” He rubs big circles on Shouto’s back, pressing his cheek against Shouto’s head. Shouto nods against his chest, wrapping his arms around Katsuki and pressing himself impossibly close. If anybody were to look through their window, they wouldn’t know where Katsuki ended and where Shouto began. Entangled in each other’s arms, stuck together like glue.
Then, in the silence only permeated by the morning birds outside, Shouto’s voice reaches Katsuki’s ears.
“Please… don’t go anywhere I can’t follow.” Shouto hugs Katsuki tighter. Then, his voice comes out smaller than before. Katsuki could not help but feel his heart constrict at how much Shouto sounds like a small child, pleading desperately for something he believes he’ll never get.
“Please stay.”
Katsuki wants to say a million and one things — reassurances, soothing words, and maybe even hum a song or two. But Shouto needs reassurance not through words, but through actions. So, he pulls away from their hug just slightly to tilt Shouto’s head up. His face is red and splotchy with tears but those eyes still sparkle like an evening sky. He leans in, brushing their noses together softly, before placing a short but firm kiss on Shouto’s lips.
He smiles when Shouto chases after him when he pulls away. So, he just cups his boyfriend’s face in his hands so that Shouto has no choice but to look him in the eyes. Once their gazes are locked, Katsuki whispers,
“I’m not going anywhere.”
As a scientist, loving an artist has its ups and downs. Their colors clash, their music is out of sync, and their emotions are expressed through different mediums. Katsuki doesn’t understand color theory nor does he particularly care about the history of rock and roll. It’s a language that could perplex the common man.
But Katsuki would rather spend his entire life learning the language of an artist than be a common man.