Work Text:
This was the perfect place. No, seriously — it was perfect.
The quietness of the fan blowing, indistinct chatter of students, the empty classroom full of art supplies.
The perfect place to sketch and paint. Most artists would say, well atleast Sori would.
If it wasn't for the loud chatter of a certain snarky and overly-confident boy from his home classroom.
Goodness, he was there every single day and sometimes even waiting for him to arrive.
Enthusiastically waving to him as soon as his light lemon yellow cardigan was spotted.
Sometimes, he'd beg to not see the latter in the empty classroom. Yet, he was always there.
With that ear-to-ear grin on his face.
He'd mutter to himself everytime. An evident displeased look on his face everytime. Ignoring the snarky-boy as if he had never existed everytime. Focusing on his paintings everytime. Not a single word was spoken to the other.
Just quiet mumbles that he would occasionally let out and the constant non-stop chattering of the golden and red eyed boy.
Today was no different. As soon as classes were over, he'd swiftly make his leave and go to the empty classroom.
However, it seems he was rather slower than usual.
His classmate was already there. Smiling widely at him.
He furrowed his eyebrows and let out a small sigh, putting his supplies on the table.
'Oh. I forgot to bring the canvas.' He thought to himself.
As he was about to leave the classroom to retrieve the canvas, that overly-confident boy spoke up.
"Forgot your canvas? I brought one for you!" He exclaimed, pulling out a canvas from behind him.
Sori didn't know wherever to feel relieved he didn't have to waste an extra 10 minutes to retrieve his canvas or surprised to the sudden appreance of a canvas that wasn't visible behind the latter's back at all.
He walked over to retrieve the canvas from the boy, but said boy pulled the canvas away with a nasty smirk and asked —
—"But first, what's my name?"
Sori didn't know. Yet his face was way to familiar to forget. He vaguely remembers seeing the other picking fights with other students and even purposely getting in trouble.
So he answered,
"Delinquent."
With a smile on his face.
The boy's smirk was gone in an instant, replaced with a dumb-founded look — Suddenly, he started laughing.
The artist was sure he was mentally unstable.
"Hahaha! I like you! You're better than your art itself!" He blurted out, laughing like Sori had just told the funniest joke in the whole wide world.
Sori blinked. Once, twice.
This delinquent liked him? Not for his artworks he was praised for, not for his intelligence, not for his looks. But for him, himself?
He didn't believe it — a part of him wanted to, though.
"You're weird. You come here everyday, constantly bothering me. For what?" He asked disdainfully.
The delinquent stopped laughing and looked at him dead in the eye. Not smirking, not smiling. Just a blank expression.
Before Sori could open his mouth to say something, the other male quickly replied to his question.
"Because I like you. You're cool and talented in drawing, how could I not like that? But y'know? The more I observe you painting and sketching, the more I want to find out about you. You don't have the passion for art. Do you? That talent you were given.. You hate it. You want to destroy every single one of your artworks. That's why every single one of them is filled with emotion. Not passion, not love for art, not the happiness you get being able to openly share your art, no. It's —
— your hatred for it."
That put Sori in a shocked state.
"That's why I'm so curious of you. Why I'm always here, to see you."
The delinquent continued, smiling whilst looking at the artist with a glint of playfulness.
And the canvas that the ponytailed-boy wanted to take was on the floor. Forgotten and abandoned.
Sori looked at the other, mouth agape. Eyes widen. Breathing uneven.
"... How would you know me. How could YOU know anything about me?! You're an outsider.. You don't know me! You never will! So..! Don't say those... Those.."
He stuttered. Everything the troublemaker said was true. How would he have known. And why.. Would he like him because of that?
"It's the truth, isn't it? It's okay, I won't tell anyone. I'm good at keeping secrets!" He giggled, trying to lighten up the mood.
— That was the artist's last straw.
"SHUT UP! IT'S NOT ABOUT KEEPING SECRETS! IT'S ABOUT THIS GOD FORSAKEN TALENT! IT'S STUPID AND I WON'T GET ANYWHERE WITH IT! I HATE IT! SO WHY.. Why... Are you so persistent to watching me continue.. When I hate this talent.. So much..!"
He hiccuped, tears streaming down his eyes. He hurriedly wiped them. He felt like he was suffocating.
The delinquent got of the table he was sitting on, and pulled the sobbing artist into a hug.
"Hey, you don't need to get so emotional.. I don't know how to comfort people.."
He spoke softly, embracing the latter.
It took awhile for Sori to l calm down. But once he did, he was quiet.
The silence was overwhelming for the both of them, the one who broke the silence was, obviously — the delinquent.
"You don't know my name, right?" He asked.
Sori merely nodded, looking down to his knees.
"Then, I'll introduce myself! I'm Gentar! Nice to meet you, Sori!" The delinquent — no, Gentar exclaimed happily to the other.
Sori sat upright and spun his head to look at the latter.
And for once, he smiled genuinely.
"Nice to meet you, Gentar"