Chapter Text
Every art student expects a portrait project at the beginning of the year. Find someone or something to paint or draw or sketch, it didn't matter what it was; a warm up before honing in on history and techniques.
Choso Kamo was no exception, and was already dreading the assignment before the task left Professor Nanami's mouth.
He groaned.
He'd been taking art classes since middle school, and through his experience the pattern never faltered. Though expected, creating a portrait for a grade had always been tedious for him, and he grit his teeth as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
Choso had only ever used his brothers as the models for these things, if not some bug he caught haphazardly before the project was due. Before his older brother Sukuna moved out, he was always happy to oblige whenever Choso asked him to. And his younger, Yuuji, practically begged to pose for him whenever his older brother brought such projects up. He'd always had someone to use, someone willing.
Now, a lecture behind into his Freshman year of college, for the first time, Choso was truly alone. He had absolutely nothing, and worse than being alone, without a subject to capture, was being alone with his thoughts. The sobering realization of solitude, of true reclusiveness nearly brought Choso to his knees.
He supposed he could call one of his brothers to sketch- Kechizu and Eso shouldn't be too busy- but disturbing them was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Sukuna worked now, Yuuji was starting high school, and though probably not busy, the former duo had grown distant towards him in recent years.
"You've become so independent," Sukuna had said to him a month before. "I'm so proud of you."
Choso didn't have the heart to tell him how much it felt like he was pushing him away.
He'd moved onto campus hastily, and even his roommate quickly denied his request to paint him, though Choso was well aware how much Mahito valued his 'beauty'. (Choso didn't think Mahito was ugly, per se. His long hair was a charming color, and he obviously took care of himself, grooming-wise, but the scars littered over his face certainly urged Choso to look away, rather than at him.)
As Choso wandered campus, without any destination or subject in mind, 'alone' felt too little a word.
///
They'd been tasked with capturing a human subject, a clarification that must've slipped Nanami's mind; he'd cleared it up the next day. (That meant no Praying Mantis hunting, which had been Choso's Plan Z. Back to square one.) And just like that, Choso was once again at a loss.
He supposed he could just paint one of the many passing faces he saw daily- how would his teacher know if they'd posed for him or not? As an introverted goth, Choso certainly had an abundance to choose from, but he knew in his heart that it just wouldn't do.
He chewed the inside of his cheek, worn metal of his piercing catching between teeth, meddlesome memories coming back to him as he contemplated.
Choso wouldn't say he had specific rules when it came to his art, just principles that even in his adult life he couldn't seem to shake.
Stupid, irrelevant things he'd come up with the first time he'd drawn a flower with a smiling face (he'd shown Sukuna, snaggle-toothed and bright, saying it was him, and his big brother had smiled). Things like how he had to love something to draw it, he had to yearn for it, or have a kind of passion to express what he felt or saw (so he'd started reading poetry in middle school- sue him). Dumb, idealistic fantasies about his artistry that just wouldn't fly in college, and it irked him that there was something within him that held onto the notions, instead of casting them aside like he wanted to. (He did want to, right?) I mean, what was he going to do with them anyway?
What’s worse, his professor was encouraging the beliefs, as though they weren’t utter and complete bullshit. He’d sent them on this wild goose chase to find someone they felt ‘deserved’ to be captured- whatever the hell that meant. So, the parameters for the assignment weren’t helping, and Choso was about ready to tear his hair out.
He settled, instead, for taking his pigtails out, letting his hair fall to his shoulders as he lay in his bed. He thought about it some more, trying to chase sleep that he just couldn’t keep up with.
Surely there was someone, just one person that he could paint. Everyone he passed was a stranger and fleeting enough that the desire to capture them was less than an afterthought.
He groaned once again, keeping his frustrations quiet as he could, as not to wake Mahito up. (His roommate was sleeping soundly, lucky bastard.)
///
Choso chewed at his piercing again.
He’d never find someone in this hellhole of a community college, and honestly, it was Mr. Nanami's fault that his time was being wasted trying to find them.
Time was running out, and Choso was willing to just give up on the project completely. No one really cared about the first assignment of the year, right? It wouldn't be too big of a problem, right? That's what he thought, but he knew he'd have to come up with something as soon as he saw his younger brother's caller ID pop up.
"You've got this!" Yuuji cheered into the receiver towards the end of their call.
Choso didn't have this, but he was indeed more inclined to try after the short phone call. So, again, right back to square one.
///
People watching session number fifteen since this stupid assignment was given, and Choso was ready to do a self-portrait at this point. (He didn't like doing self-portraits, didn't like looking at himself for too long, but what else could he do?) He actually did end up asking his brothers for help, desperate and lost, one excuse after another meeting his inbox at the inquiry.
Choso had gathered his things, ready to just copy down an old family photo when he saw him.
Some jock (approaching him was probably a bad idea) focused on the phone that was dwarfed in his hands, walked past the bench he was sitting on, not noticing him in the least. Dark hair, large build, and from where Choso was sitting, an interestingly placed scar on the side of his lips.
Choso speed-walked towards him- he'd missed what color his eyes were, he needed to know. He wanted to call out, but didn't want to embarrass himself. He'd get his attention when he caught up, if he ever did.
The stranger's strides were long, even longer legs keeping him leagues ahead of Choso.
It wasn't as if Choso wasn't also tall, but he was sleep-deprived because of this project, and he hadn't exactly been taking care of himself since entering college. (His brothers weren't around to care, why should he?) So he picked up his pace, a light jog as his breath quickened. Choso breathed a sigh of relief when he finally paused (waiting for a ride, maybe?), back still turned to him.
Maybe it was his fried mind, slowed from the unexpected exercise in such sweltering heat that made Choso reach out as soon as he caught his breath (it didn't help that his wardrobe for the day was 80% black). Maybe it was his desperation to complete this project, the sliver of hope that bloomed in his chest when he'd first laid eyes on this man, that made him say something so fucking stupid.
"I need you," he breathed, sweaty hand clutching a thick wrist.
The man turned his head to him, eyebrow raised. An amused (questioning) smirk split his scar as he spoke.
"Excuse me?"
Why the fuck did Choso say that out loud?
"I- I mean-" He heaved air back into his lungs, hands on his knees. "I'd-" Another, deep breath. "I'd appreciate your help... your help with this..."
The stranger faced him completely, looking a bit more interested.
"With what?"
Choso, able to breathe again, finally righted himself, spine straight as he looked up into his (green- he could see now that his eyes were an enticing shade of green) eyes.
"Are you busy?" he asked instead of answering his question directly. "We could go get coffee or something-" He pointed to the cafe across the street. "And talk about it, if you want."
The taller man paused for just a moment, studying Choso's face, before throwing his head back in a loud guffaw.
As Choso looked at this man's face, features twisted in a curious kind of mirth, his fists clutching the strap of his duffle, hoping, praying that he'd accept his offer, 'need' felt too little a word.
"Alright, kid," he chuckled. "I'd never pass up a chance for free food."