Work Text:
Upon closer examination, Yuki Makoto is pretty. Not in the way that Ann is, where you notice it from across the room, where Yusuke had seen her and known without even having to consider it that he needed to capture her essence through painting—but he is pretty. Dark blue hair, long lashes, the sort of features that you might not see on a magazine cover, but maybe depicted in an exhibition. The kind of pretty that could make him someone’s muse for months at a time, if not years.
Yusuke doesn’t gain inspiration from looks alone, of course, but they certainly help. He twirls his pencil in his fingers as he continues his study of Yuki’s face—occasionally glancing down at his sketchbook to do loose strokes, familiarising himself with the softness of Yuki’s features, the curve of his cheek, the sharpness at the tip of his nose—and wonders if he ought to say something. This part of the process is often awkward for the models, which is understandable, considering that Yusuke has an active task at hand and the model has nothing to do but sit there. Even Yusuke’s own friends have struggled with keeping it together for such a long time; only Akira has the mental fortitude to be the perfect model for as long as Yusuke needs.
He ought to contact Akira soon for another session. But there is another equally interesting person sitting in front of him right now, and he hasn’t so much as twitched since sitting down. Rather, his eyes almost seem glazed over, like he might’ve drifted off with his eyes open.
That won’t be a problem for Yusuke, as long as he continues sitting still. But it’s hard to truly paint someone without knowing a bit about them, so as Yusuke gives more of his attention to his sketchbook, he clears his throat.
“Why did you volunteer for this position, Yuki-san? If I may ask.”
“Hm?” Yuki’s dark blue eyes flit to Yusuke’s own, and then away. His pensive expression is also pretty, a bit mysterious. Yusuke attempts a quick sketch of it and finds that it looks a bit off, so tries again. “Well… I was approached on my way to a lecture, and the girl who spoke to me said I would be good at it.”
Yusuke continues sketching for about a minute before he realises Yuki has finished speaking. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.” Yuki shrugs. A slight crease appears between his brows, and he continues, “I guess I was in an art club back in high school. I didn’t usually model back then, though. Just painted… unless my friend Fuuka asked me to.”
Fuuka… Yamagishi, Yusuke assumes. She isn’t an art major, but she shows up to a lot of exhibitions, so Yusuke is familiar with her. Yuki seems like the type of person Yamagishi would feel comfortable around, soft-spoken and slow moving, reassuring for people who are more shy. He again reminds Yusuke of Akira in that way, particularly in the way that he considers his sentences before speaking, rarely volunteering information without being prompted first.
It’s a flattering characteristic, though one that has given Yusuke some difficulty in capturing
Akira’s
personality, much less that of this stranger. Yusuke tries again to sketch out that slightly pensive look, turns his sketchbook over and decides he’s drawn Yuki’s lips uneven.
“Were you offered any sort of compensation?”
“No… although, maybe I could have asked for it.” Yuki doesn’t sound particularly bothered by the missed opportunity, which is admirable. Yusuke certainly would have asked. (He’s done worse things than model for money.) “This is fine, though. I didn’t have anything else to be doing this afternoon.”
Yusuke supposes that’s that, then. Akira’s reasoning probably would have been similar even—though that response does highlight a pretty clear difference between the two of them, in that Akira might not have agreed without personal investment in the person asking. Akira is generous, but tends to reserve his energy for those he cares about. Yuki seems more or less indifferent to the fact that it is Yusuke sitting across from him, though not in a mean way. More like… it wouldn’t bother him either way, if he was being painted by Yusuke or someone entirely different.
His fourth attempt at the thoughtful look is a little better, but still seems wrong. Glancing up at Yuki, Yusuke sees that his expression has relaxed into something more neutral, so he tries instead to replicate that—and finds that even this feels odd, though slightly more natural. Flipping his pencil around, Yusuke erases Yuki’s eyebrows, then adjusts the slant into something more gentle.
That’s closer. Yusuke taps his pencil against his lower lip.
“I am acquainted with Yamagishi as well. She’s rather timid, isn’t she?”
“Timid? No.” Yuki sounds almost surprised by the question. “I guess she’s soft-spoken, but that’s not the same thing.”
Yusuke hums in response. He had gotten that impression of Yamagishi as well, had suspected Yuki would correct him. “Are they not?”
Yuki shakes his head, then blinks and offers an apologetic smile. “No… similar, maybe, but Fuuka is just… conscientious. She listens more than she speaks.”
Just to test it, Yusuke sketches Yuki with that small smile on his face, the gentle scrunch of his eyebrows, and lets out a satisfied hum. That will do it—that’s how he should be painted. Kind and assertive, but not judgemental. He corrected Yusuke in a very factual way, as any good friend would, but there was nothing about it that would’ve made Yusuke feel guilty for misspeaking, even if he hadn’t been intentionally describing Yamagishi wrong.
“I believe I’m ready to begin the final painting,” Yusuke decides. “Please take a stretch break and move somewhere more comfortable.”
Yuki watches him set his sketchbook aside and get to his feet, head tilted to the side. After a moment he says, “I’m alright. You can get started.”
“Please,” Yusuke waves his hand slightly, “it will ease the process for both of us.”
Another beat, and then Yuki rises without further complaint, somewhat mechanically stretching his arms over his head and rolling out his neck. Yusuke catches the glint of a silver earring in one of his ears and makes note of it. Those sorts of details are small, but they reveal a lot about a person, so it would be a shame to miss it in the painting.
Taking a seat at his easel, Yusuke grabs a larger brush to sketch and a palette, watching as Yuki finishes massaging his shoulder and resumes his earlier position. His posture is proper, but surprisingly loose, his hands open in his lap and his head tilted slightly back. Yusuke will be sure to capture that angle, even if he’s sure that Yuki won’t be able to sustain it for long.
“I rarely speak throughout my process,” Yusuke says, “but Yuki-san, before I begin…”
“Hm?”
“Thank you for allowing me this opportunity.” Yusuke smiles. “It will be an honour to paint you.”
“It’s no problem.” Yuki offers a smile of his own—slightly broader than the one before, enough to crinkle his eyes. Yusuke takes care to commit this to memory as well, so that he can capture it in his painting. It would be a shame to depict Yuki in any other way. “I’m glad to be here.”
That, Yusuke is sure of, though he couldn’t precisely say why. Not that it really matters, he supposes.
Rolling out his wrist, Yusuke gets to work.