Work Text:
It’s not that Aether is short on money. Rather, he has a hard time saying no when it comes to helping out a friend and making a little cash on the side.
Which explains how he got into nude modeling.
It sounds worse than it is, Aether explains to his twin sister’s judgmental face when he tells her about his new side hustle. He’s just holding poses in an art studio for a couple of hours a week, while students gather around to sketch. He knows he’s good-looking, he says, trying not to sound conceited. And he gets compliments on his patience, his flexibility, and his long braided hair, which are all a nice boost to his ego.
But there was one other reason which he left out of the explanation to his sister: the matter of his massive, inconvenient crush on the art professor.
The professor’s name is Dr. Kreideprinz. How a genius science doctor came to teach art classes is a mystery, but his knowledge around art is just as prodigious. During sessions, he carefully observes and critiques his students’ work, always insightful, never too harsh.
Before Aether started modeling, he always thought of fine art as this far-away world that only the coolest, smartest, most talented people from the inner city could participate in. Not somebody like Aether, who comes from a back-water town with no art school credentials to his name. But the way Dr. Kreideprinz talks about art, it feels like something universal; something fundamentally human. Something even Aether could grasp.
He’s also, like, really, really attractive. So that might explain some stuff.
“Pay attention to the way the light scatters across the figure,” Dr. Kreideprinz explains in his soft, breathy voice. “Remember, you’re translating exactly what you see onto the canvas. Try to disconnect your thinking mind and focus on the gestures instead. You’re not drawing a person, you’re drawing the light and the shadows. See? Good work. Keep going.”
Aether knows he should probably feel something about being not a person, just light and shadows, but it doesn’t bother him. He holds as still as possible, seated on a desk in the center of the room with the students’ easels arranged in a semicircle. He wants to watch the art professor as he moves about, but he might risk losing the pose if he does. So instead he squeezes his eyes shut, letting the warm tones of Dr. Kreideprinz’ lecture wash over him.
When the lesson is finished and the students depart, they sometimes leave their sketches behind. Aether, now clad in a robe and drinking a bottle of water, likes to admire their work. It’s almost hard to believe that these are drawings of him, if not for the long braid, the old surgery scars across his chest, and the single feather earring. It’s like gazing into a strange mirror: seeing himself reflected through the eyes and artwork of so many others.
“It’s good quality work, isn’t it?”
Aether gives an involuntary yelp at the sound of a familiar voice right behind him. Dr. Kreideprinz is there—when did the professor get so close? Aether thought he left with the students.
“Uh, uhm,” Aether stammers. “I don’t really understand very much about art, but... it’s way better than anything I could make.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Anyone can make art—it’s only a matter of practice,” Dr. Kreideprinz says. “Besides, you played a vital role. if not for you, none of this artwork would exist.”
Aether shrugs. “There’s other models.”
“Indeed, but you are... especially suitable. Out of all my regulars, your sessions are particularly well-attended.”
Aether glances away, flushing a bit. Was that a compliment? Maybe it just felt that way due to Aether’s poorly-disguised crush. “Th-that’s good, then,” he stammers. “I wouldn’t wanna get naked for no reason, you know?”
Immediately after saying that, he mentally kicks himself. Stupid. It’s one thing to be totally nude in front of the class, silent and untouchable; but the moment he opens his big dumb mouth, any illusion of dignity is ruined.
Dr. Kreideprinz laughs quietly. “Many college students will get naked for far less reason. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Ha ha, I guess so...” Aether tries to laugh in a way that doesn’t sound too forced. “But I’m not a student. This is a part-time job for me.”
“I am aware,” the professor says. Suddenly his eyes are on Aether. His stare is oddly intense, his eyes a vivid blue-green hue. Although Aether’s now clothed, he still feels naked beneath his gaze. “It’s... Aether, isn’t it?”
“Um,” Aether says, swallowing back his nerves. “Yeah, that’s right. And you’re… Dr. Kreideprinz?”
“Please, call me Albedo,” the professor says, wearing a soft smile that does unfortunate things to Aether’s insides. “You aren’t one of my students, so there’s no need for such formalities.”
Aether’s stomach feels like it’s doing a gymnastics routine inside his gut. Is it just him, or has the atmosphere in this room gotten... intense?
Albedo speaks again. “Now, I hope this won’t come across as too forward...”
Aether’s heartbeat instantly leaps into his throat. Oh my god, he thinks. This is really happening. The hot professor is asking me out. Act normal, Aether. Don’t ruin the moment. Just be normal—
“...But I was wondering if I might have the opportunity to draw you myself,” Albedo finishes.
...Oh. Aether deflates a bit. It was just... that, huh? Well, expecting Albedo to reciprocate his unspoken feelings is a lot to ask. Even if it feels like there might be something there...
“Y-yeah, sure!” Aether says belatedly, realizing Albedo is still waiting on his answer.
The smile spreads further across Albedo’s face. “That’s excellent to hear,” he says. “While I enjoy instructing students, I do miss having the chance to practice illustration myself. Especially with a subject that I find particularly compelling.”
“You think I’m... compelling?”
“Naturally,” Albedo says, although to Aether’s chagrin he doesn’t elaborate. “...Now, would you be free right now, or would you prefer another day?”
“Um! Now’s good! I don’t have plans after this,” Aether says, trying not to sound too desperate.
“Excellent.” Albedo begins collecting materials: easel, canvas, an array of pencils. “Unfortunately, the university won’t be able to compensate you for the extra time—but I would be more than happy to do so, using my own funds, if necessary.”
“Um—” Aether’s stomach flip-flops. Something about Albedo paying for his time settles into his abdomen like a warm heat. He shakes his head. “No need for that. Just consider it a favor for a friend.”
“Hm, If you insist. I am in your outstanding debt, in that case.” He gestures towards the desk in the center of the room, indicating Aether should sit. Aether follows his guidance as usual, but hesitates before getting on the desk.
“Is there any particular pose you wanted...?”
“I consider this a collaborative piece,” Albedo says. He flashes Aether another smile. “Your method of self-expression will include whichever pose you choose. Though, if I might make a small request... I would like to see your face.”
Why does that make Aether blush, out of everything he just said? He starts to climb up onto the desk and select a pose, but again hesitates.
“...Um. My clothes. Do you want them on, or...?”
“Again, whichever makes you feel most comfortable,” Albedo says. “I have my students practice with nude models so that they can study the human form in all of its pluralities. Clothing can be challenging for a budding artist to render. With my level of experience it poses no issue... though I certainly value the aesthetic qualities of a nude form.” His eyes meet Aether’s over the top of the canvas. “Feel free to choose as you please. Consider it another aspect to our collaboration.”
“...Okay,” says Aether. After a moment of indecision, he shimmies out of his boxers and drops his robe to the floor. It’s certainly nothing Albedo hasn’t seen already, after all. Though the context feels different this time.
He takes his time choosing the right pose. Eventually, he settles on something simple, yet interesting (he thinks): sitting with his torso half-twisted towards Albedo, braid spilling over one shoulder, eyes downcast.
“Lovely,” Albedo says, and Aether doesn’t know if that was a compliment for him or just a general manner of speech. “Please, hold there. If you need to pause so that you can stretch yourself, just let me know.”
Aether agrees easily; none of this is unfamiliar to him. Albedo starts sketching right away; Aether can tell based on the familiar, quiet sound of pencil scratching on canvas. For a minute or so, that’s the only sound inside the art studio, and Aether assumes it will be like that for the duration. But then Albedo speaks.
“I’ve found myself quite intrigued by you,” he says. “It’s not often that we get models so young. I’m curious how this became a pursuit for you.”
So Aether ends up explaining how his friend Venti, a perennially-broke musician with very little shame, dragged him to his first modeling session with the promise of easy cash and free drinks afterwards. When the drinks turned out to be non-alcoholic, Venti quickly lost interest but Aether ended up sticking with it. He talks about discovering a new interest in art, enjoying the motivation it brings for him to stay healthy and eat well, and how the money isn’t so bad for the time spent. (He does not mention having a crush on the art professor).
The conversation meanders, punctuated all the while by the scratching of Albedo’s pencil. Albedo discusses his own background and current work with grad students doing complicated-sounding science trying to create artificial cells. Abiogenesis, he calls it, which is unknown to Aether but, when spoken from Albedo’s mouth, might be his new favorite word.
They talk about family. Aether mentions his twin sister Lumine, while Albedo speaks fondly of his own sibling, a young girl named Klee. Aether tells him about his life spent traveling from place to place, never settling in one spot for long. He learns Albedo is well-traveled too, and somewhat of a gourmand, though his taste in cuisine seems somewhat... eccentric. (...Spiders? Did Aether hear him right...?)
At one point—possibly by accident, possibly not—Aether lets it slip that he’s single. To his surprise, Albedo confirms that the same is true for himself. Aether reels: there’s no way that the young genius with a triple-chili-pepper rating on ratemyprofessor is possibly unattached.
Albedo just chuckles. Perhaps he’s just picky, he says. Or maybe he’s waiting for the right person.
(And yes, he knows about the chili peppers.)
Time passes quickly. The light changes in the studio, splashing gold across Aether’s hair and skin. At last, Albedo sets his pencil down with a click.
“I’ve finished,” he declares. “You can relax now.”
Aether drops out of his pose with a sigh of relief, rubbing his neck. Once he’s massaged the clicks out of his spine and thrown back on the robe and boxers, he turns towards Albedo, a grin on his face.
“...So, can I see?”
Albedo returns with a soft, subtle smile of his own. “Naturally.”
He spins the easel around so that Aether can look. When he sees what’s on the canvas, his jaw drops. Of course, Albedo’s creation goes far beyond that of the students who are just developing their skills. The drawing is nothing short of a master’s work, with details so fine Aether can hardly make out the individual pencil strokes. Light and shadow play out in dialogue across the shape of the model—me, Aether reminds himself, that’s me. The artist has taken great care to capture him down to the smallest curve of his eyelashes, the glossy shine that rests on his lower lip. All these details aren’t just a reflection of the modeling session they just did, but a product of careful study of his features over the span of many weeks, all so that they could be rendered onto a canvas with perfect accuracy when the time was right.
“It’s beautiful,” Aether breathes.
“Of course,” Albedo says. “It’s you.”
Their eyes meet. Aether’s heartbeat thuds inside his chest. Albedo’s gaze is unwavering, declarative. Epiphany bursts into bloom within Aether. It wasn’t all just in his head. All those hints, the compliments, the implied interest. It was all real—the proof he needs is in Albedo’s gaze. Aether needs only to ask a simple question to confirm it beyond doubt.
He parts his lips—
—And is interrupted by a rumbling growl. After a moment, he realizes it came from his own stomach.
The tension breaks like shattering ice. Albedo starts to laugh, while Aether flushes to the tips of his ears.
“Oh, uh,” he stammers. “I guess all that modeling made me hungry.”
Albedo wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s all right; not to worry. It was my fault for keeping you this late.”
Aether can’t believe it. Betrayed by his own stomach! And now the moment’s ruined; Albedo has turned away and is busy cleaning up. Whatever shot Aether had at confession, he’s lost it now.
Unless...
“Wait,” he says. Albedo pauses and turns to look back at him, one eyebrow raised.
Aether, face flushed red, forces out the question. “Y-you remember how you said you’d owe me one? Well...” He points a finger at Albedo. “Dinner! You can take me out to dinner! That way we’ll be even!”
Albedo places hands on his hips, a quiet laugh inside his throat. “Aether, are you asking me out on a date?”
“Uhm,” Aether swallows. He glances between Albedo and the canvas. Had he somehow misread the situation? But he isn’t backing down now. “Yeah, I am. Is that a problem...?”
Albedo smiles wider. “Of course not,” he says, and a wave of relief washes over Aether. “Though, if I may propose a slight amendment. My place is far closer to campus than the nearest restaurant. If you’re not opposed, I could treat you to a home-cooked meal...?”
The implications of what Albedo is suggesting settle into Aether’s subconscious like warm, simmering embers. The two of them, sharing a meal at Albedo’s house... with no one else around... after he’d just spent over an hour appreciating Aether’s nude form...
“S-sounds good,” Aether says before he can change his mind.
They clean up the rest of the artworks and get ready to lock up. The entire time, Aether feels a thrill running beneath his skin like an electrical current.
As he locks the classroom door behind them, Albedo turns to look at Aether, a spark inside his eyes. His smile is a slice of light in the gloom.
“I look forward to continuing our collaboration,” he says in a low voice.
Aether cracks a smile. “Will my clothes be on… or off?”
“Why don’t we head to my place,” says Albedo, “and we’ll see where inspiration takes us, hm?”