Chapter Text
If he had thought the journey here was intimidating, nothing could prepare him for how he felt when he saw the house.
It wasn't the biggest house he had ever seen, far from it in fact, but it was one with a certain air to it that made him shiver in his already wet clothes. It was quite plain, nothing to make it particularly stand out, but the way the walls almost seemed to collapse in on themselves made him feel slightly suffocated just from looking at them. He had been sent to paint in numerous houses before: mansions, cottages, small family homes. Places where people had grown up with their loved ones and were now sad to leave behind, a painting as one last keepsake before they went.
This place was not like any of those.
The shadows, dancing around with the setting sun, added to the illusion that the house was smaller than it actually was. He couldn't imagine anyone spending their childhood here and managing to retain happy memories afterwards.
It told him all he needed to know about the place.
The letter he had been sent informed him that he'd have his own room whilst he worked here, big enough to hide away when the time called. He also knew there was one servant currently working here, with sufficient capability to serve the limited inhabitants of the house.
Geto sighed to himself in annoyance as he stood outside the old door, waiting for someone to answer and save him from the sharp ocean wind that was wasting no time in trying to undo his carefully done hair. He was about to give up on first appearances and let it just fall loose when the door finally creaked open. From out behind it peered a relatively small woman, seemingly around the same age as himself. Geto fought back his exhaustion and smiled in a way he hoped was polite and welcoming. After all, he had a job to do and he was here to do it.
'Suguru Geto,' he announced.
The woman wore a beige coloured dress, plain and simple. In her hand was a small candle, the only thing illuminating the dim doorway. She stepped to the side in silence and allowed him to enter into the miserably dull looking hallway. As she led him up the stairs to what he presumed was going to be his room, he noticed the lack of paintings, or really any decoration at all, on the cream coloured walls. He would be lying if he said it didn't make him feel slightly uneasy. The job description had told him all he needed to know, but he hadn't expected that there'd be a complete lack of evidence of life here at all. Of 𝘩𝘪𝘮 here at all.
The stairway was dimly lit, making him feel even more chilled. It wasn't a cosy sight to be greeted with. He knew he had no right to complain, his arrival had been delayed by multiple hours due to the harsh weather after all, but he did expect there to be some sign of the people living in this house. The room he was led into to wasn't much better, a small fire on the left wall the only thing slaving away to provide the space with a single ounce of comfort. The room was open and bare, the only things decorating it had been covered by white sheets and cloths. It felt almost like a graveyard, silent ghosts were his new roommates, watching him as he walked through the door and inspected the hidden corners of the room. It wasn't eerie, necessarily, but it wasn't a place he would be particularly fond to call home. He didn't want to absorb any of the energy.
'You like it here?' He questioned, walking over to where the woman was now attempting to provoke the fire into providing a bigger flame.
'Yes,' she replied, standing up and wiping her hands on her apron.
Although he was planning to question her further, Geto did feel a slight sense of relief when she spoke up again first.
'I'll leave you to get yourself dry,' she said, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.
After watching her leave, Geto walked over to the fire and dumped his bags as gently as he could with the small amount of energy he had left. He was always careful to take care of his supplies, knowing their importance, but sometimes he barely stopped himself from letting them fall from his hands a little too harshly.
He didn't waste any time in undressing, the weight of his wet clothes suddenly overwhelming his senses.
After he had undressed, he sat in front of the fire, hugging his bare legs in an attempt to bring himself any sort of temporary warmth. As he looked around the room again, observing how each corner seemed increasingly further away, he felt suddenly more alone. He found himself almost grateful for the fact it hadn't been fully cleared out- maybe the ghosts would be good company.
There was a bitter wind sweeping around- the limited furniture in the room mercifully attempting to blocking its endeavor. Although he couldn't work out the exact time, he knew it couldn't be that late. The sun had only just been setting as he made his way up the muddy hill to the house.
The silence of the space suffocated him, since the woman had left he had not heard a sound besides the soft crackle of the fire.
He wondered about 𝘩𝘪𝘮 again. The letter he had been sent summarising the job had labelled him as loud and brash, someone who wasn't the easiest in the world to work with.
The stillness of the house gave him the opposite impression.
He knew there had been some sort of incident, someone lost, but he had been provided no further information to get a real grasp of the situation. He knew he had his work cut out for him, the letter had gave him no doubt about that, but he was a professional at the end of the day, and the quicker he did his job the quicker he got to leave. To move on. To return to a home he wasn't quite sure existed anymore.
He loved his job, painting was something that brought him comfort and familiarity. He didn't love how demanding it was sometimes, though, and how he had to uproot his life so often and start fresh somewhere else. He had to admit, he did hold sentimentality for the places he stayed, he was easy enough to get along with and had made a few lasting friends, but the lack of something permanent in his life was starting to throw him off a little. He treasured the memories he had.
So far, this place hadn't struck him as somewhere he particularly wanted to remember. Cold and uninviting, he was thankful for the small welcome he had received, but he was disappointed that he hadn't got to see any signs of the subject of his painting yet.
After a while of sitting motionless in front of the fire, Geto got up and unpacked his discarded bags. His canvases were soggy and most of his clothes were wet beyond use. He stood his supplies up to dry in front of the fire before getting into some temporary pyjamas he managed to salvage.
He was hungry. The kitchen was empty when he reached it, as expected, and he set his candle on the table to get a better view of the room. It was also quite bare, a wooden table placed in the centre but not much decoration otherwise. He bet the family were pained when they had to send for a painter, they clearly didn't appreciate their house having any character. 'The painting isn't for them though', he hummed to himself.
After rooting through the cupboard a bit, he found a stale loaf of bread and began to eat in the middle of the room. He didn't bother making himself comfortable, he was still cold, and very tired, and wanted to get to bed as soon as possible.
He jumped a little when the woman from earlier suddenly entered the room, looking at him in slight confusion.
'I'm sorry I helped myself, I assumed everyone was asleep,' he explained, feeling slightly embarrassed now he had been caught.
The woman simply smiled and walked over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water.
'Do you mind if I question you a little?' he mused, before continuing when the woman nodded her head. 'What is he like? Satoru Gojo,'
The woman paused for a moment before replying, 'Gojo? He's not been home long. I wasn't employed here when he was youner, before he left,' she stopped for a second, sipping at her water. 'He keeps to himself mostly, so much different from what I heard. I expected my work to be harder, but honestly I don't think we've exchanged a single word,' with this she finished, turning towards Geto to wait for his response.
He thought for a moment, every clue he was getting regarding the mystery of the man he was about to spend the next week or so working with was taking him further away from unveiling the truth.
'Why did he come back here?' Geto asked.
The woman seemed to really consider her words before she responded, 'His sister died so he got called back. Although from what I heard, he ran away originally. I don't think it was his choice to return,' she said, 'I guess it's a shame really, he's back home now but it won't be long before he's out there again. I feel for him, not having somewhere to permanently live can really mess with your head.'
Geto hummed slightly at this. He had noticed it before, but the woman seemed even younger than he was now he looked more closely.
'What's your name?' He questioned.
'Mai,' she replied, before bowing her head slightly. 'I'm sorry but I must excuse myself, I'm still quite busy,' she said, and Geto barely got a chance to respond before she was out the room. He decided to return to his room too after this, picking up the dying candle to aid his way back.
As tired as he was, he wanted to look presentable in the morning. He didn't know what to expect, but at the very least he knew he would most likely be meeting the head of this household. Temporary household. He assumed this wasn't the families main home.
He washed his face in the bucket of water that had been left for him, now allowing his hair to fall freely around his head. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep purple under his eyes. He sighed and leaned in closer, rubbing at his face as if that would be any aid. As leant back, one of the ghostly sheets behind him caught his eye. The sheet was falling slightly to one side, half hanging off whatever it had been placed over. He turned around, letting his curiosity get the better of him, before pulling the it off to reveal a painting underneath.
At first glance it appeared half finished. The body of the subject and the background they were posed in front of was seemingly complete, but the face was left blank. The figure in the painting seemed lifeless, the body just a lethargic mannequin with no real character to it. The letter had mentioned that Gojo had refused to pose for any paintings, so he presumed this portrait in front of him contained nothing of the man at all. There was no character. The outfit he wore was fancy, a clear indication of the families wealth and prestige. A picture designed to display the very best of what the family had to offer- their son. A son who was clearly very against the whole idea of some random marriage.
Geto covered the painting back up, the stiff pose suddenly uncanny. He resolved to move the painting in the morning.
He made his way over to the couch and allowed himself to be swept up into a dreamless sleep.
‘A week to finish. I’m sure that will be sufficient, no? We are on a rather tight schedule here really so I’d appreciate the job being done by then.’.
The woman currently sat before Geto was small, but her voice filled up the entire room. Her slightly wrinkled hands, decorated with expensive looking jewels, lay flat on the table in front of her as she stared straight at Geto waiting for his response. Despite the way she worded it, he knew finishing any later wasn’t a choice- he had a week at this place before he was expected to leave.
‘That should be fine miss,’ he replied, smiling in a way he hoped would be convincing. After all, he didn’t doubt his work.
‘Good,' she paused for a moment before continuing, 'My son, well, he can be quite difficult sometimes,’
‘Ah’ Geto thought, he knew this was coming.
‘He tends to go off and do as he pleases. We’ve tried to keep this… issue… within our family but it gets difficult when it extends into the real world. He has barely spoken since he got here, he can be so selfish sometimes. He’s not the only one in this family and he needs to start understanding that his actions have consequences sometimes but….’ she trailed off, smiling sweetly at Geto before continuing, ‘We need this. With his sister gone, we need this connection. He's been refusing to pose for any painting, the last painter tried but by the end of it Gojo refused to even leave his room,’ she finished, sighing to herself and sipping the cup that had just been placed in front of her by Mai. 'A morning walk is scheduled, he hasn't bothered turning up to them in previous weeks, but with new company I'm sure he'll at least be curious of who you are,’ she smiled again, taking another sip. 'Try your best okay,' she finished.
Geto thanked her and bowed his head before leaving the table and making his way out of the room.
The house looked different in daylight, the hallways feeling slightly less threatening with the sun illuminating them, giving them life with its soft glow. The house was located close to a small beach and he was excited for the opportunity to look out over the sea in daylight. He hoped the fresh air would be generous enough to clear his mind and allow him to begin painting.
The front door was slight slightly open when he reached it, Mai presumably having left it open with the knowledge that he would soon be leaving. The bitter wind danced around him, and he quickly wrapped his coat tighter around his body.
He was beginning to really doubt whether or not Gojo would actually bother to show up, he hadn’t seen a single sign of life of the other man since he had entered this house.
Satoru Gojo. Who was he really?
A man who refused to speak.
A man who did what he wanted.
A man who refused to be painted.
All the clues Geto had gotten into the man had lead him to believe he wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around. Maybe everyone was over-exaggerating. Geto wasn’t one to judge a person before he even got to have a conversation with them.
As he was considering whether or not to close the front door for the sake of a few minutes of warmth, he heard a door slam from upstairs. A few seconds later, Gojo finally began to walk down the stairs.
The first thing that caught Geto’s attention was his hair, white and relatively messy, as if he really had just woken up and rolled out of bed. As he got the bottom of the stairs, he made brief eye contact with Geto, and even beyond his darkened glasses he could see how bright his blue eyes were. He was wearing a black mask over the bottom half of his face, so Geto didn't really have much choice than to look into his eyes.
The next thing he noticed was the man’s lack of a jacket. Geto was debating on whether or not to put a scarf on but here Gojo was with below the bare minimum amount of layers expected in such bitter weather.
Geto watched as Gojo pushed past him, not even stopping to acknowledge him at all.
‘You should put a jacket on, you’re really going to get cold especially near the sea,’ Geto said.
Gojo briefly turned around at this, looking Geto up and down before rolling his eyes and walking out the front door. It slammed shut behind him, and Geto didn’t know whether or not to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that was the wind's fault. All the sympathy he had previously held for the man quickly left his body, even with the mask obscuring his face, nothing could hide the strange expression Gojo had directed at him for absolutely no reason at all.
After rolling his own eyes, Geto opened the door and rushed out to follow him down the slippy path. The rain had lessened since yesterday, but the wet mud was still disturbing the grassy ground. Geto was surprised to see how far Gojo had made it down the path, clearly not sharing the same issues he was having in trying not to fall flat on his face.
Suddenly, Gojo broke out into a sprint. Geto's heart dropped, panicking slightly as he rushed after him. 'Hey,' he shouted, hoping his voice was strong enough to win the tug of war with the wind attempting to sweep it clean away. When the man didn't turn around, Geto picked up his pace and shouted again, 'What are you doing? Stop,' he yelled, noticing the direction Gojo was running in was towards the edge of the steep cliff. All thoughts of slipping in the mud had left his mind, the dirt splashing up onto his pants was the least of his concerns. The ground was uneven below him, he was a fast runner himself but he wasn't exactly trained to be chasing someone over rocky ground.
Gojo didn't stop, instead he extended his arms out into the air before waving them around widly. 'What is this guys problem', Geto thought to himself, watching as he seemed to pick up even more speed. Geto was eager to see the beach below the cliffs, but not so excited that he was willing to race down there almost first thing in the morning. He debated shouting again, certain that the man could in fact hear him and was just chosing to ignore him.
Then, as suddenly as he had started, Gojo stopped running. He was so close to the edge that Geto feared one gust of wind might have been enough to tip him over. He didn't seem bothered, though, and that's what made Geto even angrier as he finally caught up. Gojo's back was still to him, his shoulders slightly tensed as he looked out over the rough sea, but he visibily relaxed before turning around to face Geto.
Geto couldn't even imagine what face he was pulling at him, but he didn't feel too bad because Gojo furrowed his brow back at him as he took off his mask.
'What?' Gojo spat, like Geto's presence was disturbing him somehow.
Geto was caught off guard for a moment. Even though the wind had been successful in making his hair even messier, nothing could take away from beauty of Gojo's face. His eyes were even brighter in the natural light, they seemed to be reflecting the perfections of the sea itself.
'Hello? Are you deaf?'
Nevermind.
The first few words he had gotten out of the man and he was already beginning to understand everybody else's complaints. Geto blinked and brought himself back to reality, noticing the way Gojo's white eyebrows were raised slightly in annoyance. 'What was that for?' Geto replied, trying to tone down his own levels of annoyance.
'You try being stuck in a house for a week straight. Your fault really, what took you so long to get here,' Gojo rolled his eyes again, and from this distance Geto noticed how his eyelashes were white too.
'What, not allowed to walk around by yourself?' Geto replied, before realising that was a stupid question really. He was here under the guise of being a companion of sorts to the man, sneaking glances whenever possible to allow him to complete a painting in secret. He couldn't imagine the last painter had spent much time with Gojo, if the painting he had unveiled last night and his mother's words were anything to go by. The look Gojo gave him was venemous, and was accompanied by an angry noise before the man stomped past Geto and made his way back towards the actual path.
With Geto following closely behind, the pair made their way down a rocky path onto the beach. It was sheltered by the cliff face behind it, giving them some refuge from the increasingly harsh winds. The beach itself was relatively flat, beauty hidden beyond dangerous looking rocks continuing on for miles and miles. The waves crashed onto the shore, a harsh contrast to the serenity of the sand. Geto stood back and watched Gojo attempt to skip rocks into the water, noticing him shivering slightly even with his constant movement. The sun was shining bright behind him, casting a glow around the silhouette. It almost looked like a halo framing his figure, the thought instantly making Geto laugh slightly to himself.
After watching Gojo rub his hands together between each throw for the tenth time in what seemed like ten seconds, Geto sighed and decided to walk over to the taller man.
'Told you it'd be cold,' Geto broke the silence and stood to the side of Gojo, turning to look at his face with curiosity. He made some mental notes of the gentle slope of his nose, and the way the light reflected off of it. He only had a week to recreate the way each feature seemed to sit perfectly on the man's face, how quickly was he able to produce such a masterpiece? Gojo almost looked like he was going to step away from Geto, but instead he turned his head slightly towards him.
'I don't need you lecturing me too, wasn't in your job description last time I checked,' he said, throwing the stone in his hand with even more force than before.
The annoying part was that he wasn't wrong, but what good was a painting of someone confined to their bed with a cold.
'You're right,' Geto responded, pausing for a moment before taking his jacket off and placing it out towards Gojo in the space between them like some sort of peace offering. He still had another jacket on underneath (and a scarf too- he had actually come prepared for the weather) so he didn't mind too much that he was losing one of his layers.
Gojo looked at the jacket with suspicion, like Geto was pulling some prank on him or something, before taking it out of his hands and putting it on. 'At least you have a decent fashion sense,' he mumbled, running his eyes over Geto's remaining clothes.
'You're welcome?,' Geto said, feeling it to be more of a question than a statement, but he was happy to see that the man was no longer shivering.
They didn't talk much after that, but the atmosphere had shifted into something slightly more comfortable. Gojo offered Geto some rocks to throw himself, laughing to himself when Geto had failed to get the angle right on his first few attempts. He demonstrated the correct method a few times, and Geto couldn't help but note the way his hair fell around his face. He was only commisioned to paint one picture, but adding all these angles to his memory wouldn't do any harm.
On their way back to the house, Gojo complained seemingly to himself about how bored he was going to be for the rest of the day. 'Not saying you're the most interesting person I've ever met but at least it's something,' Gojo mumbled. Geto raised his eyebrows at this, observing the way he failed to walk in a straight line, as if he was attempting to take up as much of the path as possible. He had been wondering what Gojo had been doing to pass the time prior to them meeting, as he hadn't seen him at all. He wouldn't have even thought that someone else was living in that house if he hadn't been told. The ghostly sheets in his room had stood out more. He half considered offering to spend more time wth him, but he knew he had a tight schedule to follow. Reaching the front door, Gojo turned around and peered intently at Geto's face. 'Same time tomorrow?' he questioned. 'Yeah,' Geto responsed. It was only when he reached his room and sat down to sort through his paints that he realised Gojo still had his coat.