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Even without seeing results, you can tell Chidori is a phenomenal artist just by watching her draw. Everything from her posture to the way her eyes track the page to how she holds the freaking pencil give her away as an expert. Her lower lip draws between her teeth and her brows furrow slightly and she gets this uncharacteristically unguarded look, like she’s truly lost herself in her work and forgotten everything else that’s usually weighing on her mind. Yet at the same time, you can just tell she’s focused. Every move feels practised, deliberate. It’s like she’s plotted out exactly where she’s going to move the pencil before her graphite has even hit the page.
Junpei likes to watch, in part because Chidori isn’t much of a talker, even when he comes to visit. He doesn’t mind that. The fact that the other members of SEES want her talking—that they seem to see that as the primary reason for Junpei’s visits—is more or less irrelevant to him, because just getting to spend that time with Chidori is precious to him. It doesn’t matter so much what they’re doing in the meanwhile.
Maybe that’s stupid, considering everything. The first girl who was even slightly nice to Junpei and she ended up betraying him. But it’s hard to look at Chidori and see anything but the first girl to laugh genuinely at his jokes, anything but that little smile she gives when she thinks Junpei has said something endearing—and hell, Junpei finds it almost impossible to even consider being mad at her while he’s watching her draw. There’s something very grounded about it in a way Chidori practically never is, yet simultaneously she looks almost ethereal. Her dark lashes rest against her cheeks. Her red hair falls over her shoulder as she tilts her head this way and that, studying her own drawing with a discerning tug of her lips.
She’s… pretty, obviously. But Junpei likes to watch for more reasons than that. It’s just compelling is all. The same way Junpei is sure people like watching Akihiko’s wrestling matches or Yukari’s archery tournaments. There’s nothing quite like watching a master at work.
Chidori never comments much on Junpei’s attention—never comments much on anything at all—but she certainly seems to notice it. Her eyes flit, periodically, over to Junpei. On occasion her gaze is accompanied by a raised eyebrow, but more often than not it seems like Chidori just does it to reaffirm his presence. Junpei largely lets her look, will offer a smile or a goofy wave if he feels compelled to, and then Chidori will let out this little snorting laugh and shake her head. Air will blow through her cheeks. Neither of them will say anything even then, and they don’t have to.
Today, though, Chidori shifts in place around an hour into Junpei’s visit and twirls her pencil in her hand. Then, with a little wrinkle in her nose, she breaks their comfortable silence.
“Why are you so interested in my drawings, anyhow?”
It’s such a departure from their usual routine that Junpei stumbles over his words for a moment in replying. “Huh? I mean—well, why wouldn’t I be? I’m somethin’ of a connoisseur of the arts myself, you know?”
Chidori raises an eyebrow. “There’s being a connoisseur, and there’s doing what you do. Nobody normal is that content just to watch someone draw for hours on end.”
Harsh, but maybe not untrue. To be fair, Junpei doesn’t think he’d be half as interested if it weren’t Chidori doing the drawing, and tells her as much. Chidori’s cheeks colour, a pale, pretty pink, and she lets out a quiet scoff. Her gaze darts to the far wall and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a little pout on her face now.
“It can’t just be that,” Chidori insists, tone slightly petulant now. “Are you interested in drawing yourself?”
“Me? I mean.” Junpei crosses his legs, then uncrosses them, letting out a nervous laugh. “I don’t think I’d be any good at it. You know I used to struggle to colour inside the lines in elementary school. My teacher’d always give me crap about it, so I would tear up the pages before they got home to my folks. I like watching you, though! Better to leave this kinda thing to the professionals, right?”
Chidori’s eyes narrow. She’s never mean, and she doesn’t really glare at Junpei, but she has this way of piercing through him with just a look. It’s not unsettling or scary but Junpei feels himself shivering anyway. Maybe it’s just that sensation of being looked at and seen by someone he likes so much. That in itself is a little daunting; he’s never liked a girl like he likes Chidori before. That on top of the feeling of being perceived so entirely is enough to break a guy into a cold sweat. To distract from it, Junpei adjusts his cap and lets out a nervous chuckle.
Sighing, Chidori drops her gaze and flips to a blank page in her sketchbook. She scoots towards the edge of her hospital bed, hooking socked feet over the side and gesturing for Junpei to come closer. When he does as instructed, Chidori presses her pencil into his hand and folds his fingers over it. Her fingertips are slightly chilly, and smaller than Junpei’s—not that he’s focusing on them for long, what with the pencil and all.
“Whuh,” Junpei says, articulate. He blinks, then looks up at Chidori. “Aww, c’mon, Chidori, you don’t have to teach me.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Chidori responds, bluntly. “You’re wrong. I’m not a professional. And even if I was, it still wouldn’t be a problem if you wanted to learn how to draw. Everybody starts somewhere.”
It’s the sort of advice a teacher would probably give him, except it does sort of mean more coming from Chidori. Still, Junpei is apprehensive, and some—or all—of this must show on his face, because Chidori’s cheeks puff out slightly and she looks away.
“...You don’t have to colour inside the lines,” Chidori says. “I won’t tell anyone. Just humour me and give it a try, okay, Junpei?”
Ah, hell. It’s impossible to deny her when she uses his name like that. Junpei nods, ignoring the furious blush that’s entered his cheeks. Mercifully, Chidori doesn’t seem to have much to say about it either, scooting in just a bit closer so their shoulders press together. Junpei can’t imagine that this will make it at all easy to draw, but the tactile sensation of Chidori sitting so close to him is indulgent in a way he couldn’t have pictured. He can’t possibly bring himself to complain about it.
He adjusts the pencil in his hand and swallows as Chidori sets her sketchbook in his lap. It’s hard to say why he’s so nervous about this; it’s just drawing. Junpei does much scarier things in Tartarus almost every day, and he has no problem with that. Granted, in Tartarus, he usually has his teammates at his back, and they’re not exactly here to keep an eye on him in Chidori’s hospital room. He supposes Chidori might count, but it’s nerve wracking trying to do something like this under the watchful eye of somebody he knows is so good at it, and that’s not even getting into how he feels about Chidori herself.
The truth of the matter is, though, Junpei just doesn’t like being bad at things. His palms sweat every time he thinks about picking up a baseball bat again, and that’s something he actually has practice at. Sure, hell, he’d like to draw. It’s hard not to think about doing it watching Chidori sketch out full landscapes like it’s nothing. But it is a very different thing to daydream about it idly than to actually sit down and do it.
“You’re overthinking it,” Chidori says. “I’m not expecting you to be good.” Her hand slides over the back of Junpei’s, fingers squeezing so he holds the pencil properly. Her palm is soft, slightly cool like her fingers. This close, Junpei can smell her hair, the generic shampoo SEES has been providing her with, and something underneath that. Something sweeter. Probably just… Chidori. Junpei swallows, throat dry, and nods.
“That’s good, ‘cause uhh…”
“Junpei,” Chidori says again, and lets out a little laugh. “Start with something easy. Draw those flowers you gave me.” She points at the vase on her bedside table, standing tall and pretty under the afternoon sun that streams through the curtains. The flowers are as lively as ever, to contrast with the quiet, solemn energy in the room. Junpei thinks that should be easy enough, but looking more closely at the flowers he’s already making out a crap ton of complicated shapes he knows he won’t be able to put down on the page.
Still, maybe he is overthinking it. The pressure of Chidori’s hand on his is reassuring enough that Junpei takes a breath and starts carefully outlining the vase. He pushes down hard enough that the lead at the tip of Chidori’s mechanical pencil snaps right off. Chidori doesn’t comment, but she taps against Junpei’s knuckles, obviously indicating for him to use less pressure.
Which feels intuitive, but Junpei tries not to dwell on it too much as he starts again. The vase, looking at it, isn’t quite as round as he’d initially assumed in putting it down on the page. By the time his outline is done, it’s wonky, and nowhere near accurate. He has to erase lines a lot, slowly nudging the sketch in the direction that he wants it to be in, and he’s not really satisfied by the time he’s done either. Chidori has this way of making her drawings look three-dimensional. Even with just a sketch like this, she can make it look like she really drew a vase. Junpei… well, Junpei certainly drew a large oval with a flattened top.
“That’s good,” Chidori tells him nonetheless.
“Is it?”
Chidori rolls her eyes. “If you already have an answer in mind, why do you even ask? Yes. It’s good. You’re starting out. Draw the flowers now.”
Junpei can’t help cracking a smile at her exasperation, which pulls one out of Chidori too, and he pauses for a second to watch her visibly fight it off. Heart fluttering a little, Junpei returns to his task, finding it a little bit easier to sketch out the basic outline of the flowers when he isn’t thinking so hard about it. Of course, this in itself is much more difficult than the vase. He gets one of the flowers into a good enough spot, but it ends up taking up too much space in the vase for the others, and erasing and redrawing leaves him with a more proportional but much less satisfying shape.
It’s very back and forth. Sketch, erase, sketch, erase. Junpei finds his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, his brow creasing with concentration. Chidori was right; he is overthinking this. But he’s not sure how he’s supposed to think less. The way that Chidori always seems to turn her brain off a little when she draws feels almost more impressive of a feat now than the drawing itself, because Junpei is struggling to work out how to translate those flowers in the front onto his page. He ends up erasing a bit of the vase and faltering, letting out a huff.
Chidori is smiling, though. “Drawing from life is hard,” she says, twitching her fingers to indicate that she wants the pencil. Junpei passes it over without complaint, watching her shift the drawing pad into her own lap. “You’re not just drawing what you see. You actually have to translate a three-dimensional object into 2D. You’re a bit of a perfectionist, right? Or at least… You don’t like doing things halfway.”
Perfectionist is not the first or even the last word Junpei would use to describe himself, so he takes a moment to react to Chidori’s assessment, especially when he doesn’t immediately baulk at it. “Uh, I mean… yeah. Nobody likes bein’ bad at things, right?”
“Sure, but…” Chidori frowns. She sketches out the vase in loose, sweeping strokes. Junpei notices immediately that her sketch lines are incredibly light, and her pencil barely leaves the page. She also doesn’t stop to erase anything, merely darkening the lines that she wants to keep. “When it comes to art… I think that good and bad are subjective. Your flowers and vase aren’t bad. You’re just new, so there are things you don’t know yet… But there’s a value to that kind of art too.”
Junpei raises his eyebrows. It is, in itself, a little jarring just hearing Chidori talk so much about something, much less with so much certainty. Not that she seemed particularly wishy washy when they first met, but she was evasive, especially about her art. Since being taken into custody by Mitsuru’s people—man, forget about it. Chidori closed off in a way Junpei just straight up hadn’t seen from her before. Yeah, yes, sure, they’ve been spending a lot of time together, but… It’s just a little surprising. Chidori sounds so confident.
He likes it, though, to a point where Junpei feels he would do almost anything to pull more of that confidence out of here. Even if that means drawing a thousand more shitty vases.
“Right,” Junpei offers, lacking Chidori’s eloquence, only able to awkwardly echo her sentiment, “‘cause it’s… where I started, or whatever, yeah?”
Chidori smiles, and it’s a sweet, soft look. Her hair falls into her eyes, which don’t lift from the page, even to look at Junpei when he speaks. She hums in acknowledgement of what he said, though, and it leaves a little warm feeling in Junpei’s chest. He finds himself looking back down at her drawing, where she’s begun to sketch out the flowers, starting with the larger shape of the bundle before going back and detailing in the individual plants.
“Man,” Junpei sighs. “You’ve gotta have a crap ton of practice to be that good at it, huh? There’s no way I’ll ever catch up to you.”
“No,” Chidori agrees. “But you’re probably the only person out there who’d be using me as your progress point.” She shakes her head, looking back at Junpei now to affix him with a raised brow. He can only smile sheepishly in response, nonetheless flushing under the weight of her amused gaze. Chidori exhales through her nose. “Is that really what you want, though? To be as good or better than me? I thought you just liked to watch.”
“Well…”
Actually, now that she mentions it… Junpei shakes his head. Being better than Chidori… has never really occurred to him, which is an alien sensation, as embarrassing as that is to think, much less say aloud. It’s just something that’s always lingering at the back of his mind. Not so much a need to be better, but the urge to compare himself. To Makoto, obviously, but to the rest of their friends and teammates too. To Fuuka, whose help is invaluable, irreplaceable. To Yukari, who is never disingenuous about what she thinks is right or wrong. To Akihiko and Mitsuru’s grounding leadership, to Ken’s maturity at such a young age—Junpei finds it impossible not to pit himself against the people around him, no matter how much he loves them, no matter how shitty he feels in the aftermath.
He… doesn’t feel that with Chidori, though. Sure, it’s embarrassing sucking at art with her sitting right here, but the thought of getting better than her hadn’t really crossed his mind. He’d commented on it without thinking better, but… no, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t really mind one way or another.
It’s an odd feeling. Kind of… addictive, though, in just how reassuring it is. Maybe Junpei isn’t normal—maybe there’s just something wrong with him that makes him so damn jealous all the time, of everyone, of people who have been nothing but good friends to him, but… at least he can be close enough to normal and secure and steady when Chidori is here.
“Nah,” Junpei admits, for emphasis. He leans his shoulder into Chidori’s and grins at her. “Better not to try for somethin’ that’s impossible anyways, right?”
“Well.” Chidori smiles, a quick slip of teeth, and Junpei thinks he might actually be getting addicted to that smile. It’s the most he’s ever seen it, and it’s so utterly pretty, the way it crinkles Chidori’s eyes and scrunches her nose. Like this especially, she seems so much less elusive, so much more like just a regular girl, someone Junpei could reach out and touch, curl his arm around, intertwine fingers with.
He… doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to overstep, but the press of his shoulder into hers is plenty for him for now. Chidori must sense his distraction, because she nudges him with his elbow and points down at her drawing. Junpei can’t help staring. It’s so simple, and looking closely he can see that Chidori really didn’t draw all that much, but it looks so complete somehow. The lines she used are sparing but effective. It’s not even that Junpei can’t make sense of them; it’s that he can’t imagine having the kind of brain that would tell him where to put lines like that, how to bring a drawing to life in so few strokes.
“Maybe I will be able to draw,” Junpei admits after a moment, sounding slightly breathless to his own ears. “I got the world’s best teacher sitting right here.”
Chidori’s face flushes again, a little darker this time, the tip of her nose shining red. “Th-That’s stupid. I’ve never even taught someone to draw before.”
“Yeah, but—” Junpei struggles to speak around his grin, around the swell of affection in his chest. “I mean, I can’t imagine bein’ taught by anyone else, you know?”
Chidori lets out a huff and turns her head away. Now that she isn’t properly instructing, she’s back to being a bit pouty, but Junpei doesn’t mind that either. After a beat, Chidori pushes the pencil back into Junpei’s hand and taps the sketchbook pointedly.
“Draw it again, if you’re so confident. Show me what you’re learning.”
“What, not even gonna give me any pointers?” Junpei laughs. Chidori shoots him a glare, and though it lacks any real bite, Junpei exaggerates a jump and goes right back into drawing, choosing another blank spot on the page and starting with that vase again. He’s still grinning as he does it, so broadly it’s almost slightly painful. It’s just that he can hardly help it, the smile or the giddy feeling in his stomach, the way his chest leaps every time one of them shifts and their shoulders brush.
It feels like self-improvement, a little, at the same time as it feels like taking a long, cosy, mid-afternoon nap. Junpei doesn’t think he could ever get used to spending time around Chidori like this, no matter how many times he comes back.