Work Text:
“Who’s your safe space other than your family?”
Such a small question, yet one that kept a certain Team Primary member thinking about for quite some time.
Prim felt blessed to have had the love for art so deeply ingrained in his family history. He grew up with lots of appreciation for the finest things in the marble world if there was any, where each painting, each sculpture, each fine detail represent a story that awaited to be uncovered by someone who had a different interpretation other than what science could provide.
He was surrounded by art and art surrounded him each step he took. After all, his degree was a testament to his devotion for this field, a field where he followed thoroughly alongside his sister Mary.
And yet, there’s several challenges in art where even a degree could not help with.
And this was one of them.
Prim faced a blank canvas, propped on a sturdy easel and surrounded by a few tubes of paint, several brushes, a sharp pencil, a glass of water and his trusty palette that he held on the left side. He already made a sketch of some kind, a mix of shapes like circles, rectangles and lines that crossed from left to right to give some guidance.
But if you’d ask Prim what he was doing, he wouldn’t be able to tell you much else besides “listening to his intuition and letting the brush guide his way onto the canvas”.
The question still lingered as he mixed a few drops of paint on the palette.
Prim was a man that relied too much on concepts, even if he prefers not to admit it publicly. A predetermined idea used as a base to guide his art onto, something somewhat palpable and irrefutable. That way, it was easy to turn his own spin on it, one that unleashed his creative side up to 150%.
When it came down to questions with multiple interpretations and so excruciatingly vague like this one, it was not in his comfort zone. Mary, in his point of view, mastered that art way better throughout their time at the university. She was more innovative and so much more open to recreating something never seen before, even if the final product may end up with a larger audience looking terribly confused.
But this question was one that came from Imar out of all people.
“Just think about it.” Imar would say, her hand lightly squeezing his shoulder. “Your safe space doesn’t have to be a specific place. Sometimes it’s just one person you feel you resonate with, someone that makes you feel at ease. It’s a big thing if you have someone like that, you know, Prim? Someone that is equally as important as your family and that you wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world.”
“Can’t I just say that my sister fits this trope and move on with the training?” Prim would roll his eyes, mostly tolerating Imar’s sudden interventions with one of those questions. “You’ve been reading far too much about romance, psychology and the sorts.”
“No can do, captain.” Imar smiled as she untied her ponytail. “You just take the easy way out. Try to find someone else. I’m certain you have one, you just didn’t realise it yet. And if you do figure it out, make sure you owe me one.”
And that was the moment that stuck with him the most.
After slightly adjusting his beret and his work glasses, he got to work. A base color that resembled the yellow that Team Primary had been showcasing for ages was now all over the canvas, with the remnants of the graphite still hiding underneath.
“You just take the easy way out.”
Imar’s words kept echoing in his head once in a while, as his brush kept gliding all over the base.
Prim never considered the idea of “taking the easy way out” as Imar said that one day. Hell, he never even entertained that idea, given that one of his biggest risks ever taken in this lifetime was also one that ended up paying up the most in the end. Being a marble athlete isn’t a job made for anyone, and now with his latest promotion to captain after the baton was passed to everyone but Rima, tension was higher.
But great risks come with great rewards and even greater consequences.
His eyes focused heavily on the motion of the brush, every single stroke contouring what would be the base of the artwork. A few shadows there, a tinge of light somewhere in the upper corner, a dab of color in the middle. Art is a huge “trust the process” type of skill, one Prim knew very well - after all, layering is the key to achieve a great composition to build onto later.
It was just a mere portrait, one he’d realized hundreds of times in his lifetime. But deep down he did feel this one was special.
Perhaps because it’s the rare time where he let his imagination run wild after Imar lit up the fuse and let it burn all the way down.
The progress gradually went to the point where Prim could allow himself a break, before adding the finer details to it. He took a large gasp of air, taking into the view of his surroundings. His arms were full of paint, splotches of color being visible on his fingers and even on his face as he later on noticed. Art was never meant to be clean, art was meant to be expressive, and Prim took great pride in that.
He took his phone to respond to the latest message his sister sent, something about plane tickets and a picture of a plush she wanted to buy for a family friend. It was definitely Mary's thing to look after the others, in spite of her being the younger sibling in the family.
And there was Momo.
Now a bona fide Marble League champion himself, the captain of Team Momo was now all over the news - in commercials, in interviews, even taking small gigs just for his own curiosity and will to experiment the world outside what he knew. Prim couldn’t help but feel extremely proud of him, given he knew all too well that Momo chased this moment for ages and if there was anyone more deserving of the title, it was Team Momo.
A small smile kept lingering on Prim’s face as he kept liking the posts one by one. After all, the Momos were nothing but a lifeline in the dynamic of Team Primary that stuck through thick and thin even in the worst times.
Prim went back to work, this time cleaning one of his smaller brushes before dipping it in the mix for the last touches. He had to be fully focused from this part on, as details often make the difference.
So focused that he didn’t even notice the faint sound of footsteps that came closer to him.
Prim took two steps back, taking a slight look at the artwork before taking his brushes back to the glass of water.
“You were here all along?”
The voice, familiar as it sounded, startled Prim a little bit. Mostly because he didn’t expect company during that time, and the spot was mostly empty besides the faint chirps coming from birds outside or the wind blowing through leaves.
“Where else would I be?” Prim asked, taking off his glasses at the very last. His gaze followed the source of the sound, finding a certain taller man approaching slowly.
“Thought you were inside with Mary. Knocked there first, told me you were here, so I came quickly.”
“Of course she did.” Prim smiled, allowing the other man to embrace him fully. Through the newfound rise to fame, it was difficult to get a one on one moment with Momo, so any small private moment was welcomed greatly.
“You’re not hugging me back?”
“Momo, I’m all covered in paint. I’ll make your clothes dirty if I do.”
“That’s all you’re worried about?” Momo manually took Prim’s hands one by one and wrapped it around himself, after he continued the hug as before. Prim could only oblige to the request. “I missed you so much and all you care is to not make me look dirty with a bit of paint?”
“Okay, okay, fine!” Prim laughed, a heartfelt laugh that took even Momo by surprise. “I missed you too. Really. It’s tough getting in touch with everyone else seeking the number of the captain of Team Momo nowadays.”
“I know, I’m sorry…” Momo replied defeatedly, “It’s been a lot hectic lately. Everyone’s now asking for us. But you know I’ll always try to make time for you.”
“I know. I don’t blame you. Hard to keep up with a champion nowadays.” Prim responded, leaving a flustered Momo only awkwardly laughing back in delight. “Everything good?”
“Yeah, lots of love, lots of support, some hate comments here and there, you know, the usual champion stuff. As soon as I saw there’s nothing on my schedule today, I had to sprint here to see you. It’s been unbearable, you have no idea.”
“I’m certain. But you’re still Momo, after all.”
“And Momo still needs his time off to stay with Prim. That’s not negotiable in his book.”
“And what would the media and your new fans say that you still hang out with one of those low performing Marble League racers?” Prim said almost sarcastically, his tone becoming a bit more exaggerated as he finished the sentence.
“They better not dare or else I’ll not stay silent for longer.” Momo retorted, leaving Prim chuckling a bit. “Besides, that painting is really lovely. I didn’t know you took time to paint me out of all people.”
Prim took a brief pause to register Momo’s words. He took a closer look at his painted hands, all colored with several streaks of green, purple and yellow, besides a smidge of red he used for the neck area. Afterwards, he took a glance at his own artwork, the same exact one he painted as if he was on autopilot, thinking every single time about Imar’s remark.
He stood there silent in realization that the portrait he painted all this time was just a candid picture of Momo sporting his gold medal.
“Your safe space doesn’t have to be a specific place. Sometimes it’s just one person you feel you resonate with, someone that makes you feel at ease.”
“That’s probably the best present I could’ve received. Thank you, Prim.”
“I’m certain you have one, you just didn’t realize it yet.”
And suddenly everything fell into place. Momo becoming a safe space for Prim throughout the years made so much sense now that he was thinking of it a lot clearer. Few people could make Prim so overwhelmingly appreciated quite the way Momo did.
“That’s the least I could do, really.” Prim replied, sighing a bit. “Think it’s my best portrait.”
‘I’m honored to be your muse for your best portrait then.” Momo smiled, as he tried to get closer to the canvas. Prim made a lunge for Momo’s hand, managing to pull him back before tragedy struck afterwards. Momo stared surprised at him - or rather more at the way their hands are now holding than the potential paint ruin - as Prim gently brought Momo near his side again.
“It’s not dry.” Prim admitted, taking a note at how Momo’s trying to intertwine their fingers slowly. “I just finished the details before you arrived.”
“Oh, my bad, I'm sorry. Yeah, should’ve asked again, I keep forgetting this.”
Prim sighed before bringing his eyes back at the Team Momo captain. “You’re forgiven. You’re Momo after all, and you know how I feel about Momo.”
Momo quietly adjusted Prim’s little beret that was about to slip with his free hand, before bringing Prim back into another hug. “Momo knows. And you know Momo feels the same.”
“Feels nice to know that given you were very busy lately with other duties.”
“Hey!” Momo pouted, his voice more defensive, “I tried, I really did! I wanted to stay here with you, and they wouldn’t allow me to!”
"That’s why I keep telling you to come back with me in Van Gotterdam because I have where to hide you for the time being.”
“That means I could actually kiss you anytime?”
“Oh, you little…”
Momo laughed before slowly interlocking their lips together, stealing a small kiss from the Team Primary captain. Prim couldn’t help but allow Momo to kiss him properly, one they haven’t shared in a while.
And Prim would be lying if he’d say he didn’t miss any of this.
Momo was gentle enough with Prim, but for as passionate he happened to be with the kisses, so was his inability to stop until they both end up breathless. And this time was no exception, as Prim broke the kiss just to get a gasp of air in the end.
“I’ll take it as a yes then.” Momo smiled widely, much to Prim’s slightly unimpressed expression. “But you know I love you and I wouldn't do that if you didn’t want it. I’ll ask next time, I promise. I just missed you far too much lately and I couldn't resist.”
“I love you too.” Prim replied, kissing Momo’s forehead gently. “And I missed you. A lot. So much that I did a whole portrait of you without realizing it, seems like.”
"And I'll cherish it forever. Just like those other paintings you gave me." Momo said, wrapping his right arm around Prim's waist and holding onto him like a lifeline. Prim only hugged him back, his arms circling Momo's shoulders. Neither of them wanted to let go, especially given Team Momo's hectic schedule as of late, and the few moments they still manage to spend together were moments they took full advantage of.
"How long are you staying this time?" Prim mumbled, as he slightly departed from the warmth of his partner. "A few hours again?"
"A week." Momo replied, his gaze locking in with Prim's blue eyes. "A proper break at the very last."
"Kind of them to spare you this week for doing anything but Marble League gigs."
"Agreed. But I'll use the week I have free of charge to compensate for the lost time, and I want to stay with you. That's if you'll allow me to come back home."
"To come back home."
After all, Prim did realize Imar had a point.
It was useless relying on just something palpable when some things don't have a physical counterpart to compare with. Science has multiple branches and numerous ways of answering questions, but those answers came under the base of a hypothetical question that came from day to day life.
Art may be different from science or any subject that heavily relies on something visible to prove something, but there is also a few particular features that makes it truly unique - and that it's endless and expressive. Those little hypotheticals gave birth to some of the most alluring artworks the marble world had ever seen, and there's never been a limit to what art can touch.
And this one hypothetical brought Prim to the realization that he had always found his safe space - he just couldn't find the specific terms to put it in such simple words. His comfort zone, his shelter and his muse. It was always there, hovering around him like a warm presence, and it all came in the form of a man that he met in the outskirts of Om several years ago.
This time around, Prim initiated their kiss. Momo only kissed him back with the same amount of passion, holding his artist firm enough to feel like Prim was still there with him, but gentle enough to show his love and devotion.
"So, captain." Imar's voice rang quietly in Prim's head, almost as a whisper. "You found your safe space after all?"
Prim couldn't help but laugh at the idea that Imar out of all his teammates would be haunting him. Momo loved Prim's heartfelt laugh, as rare as that usually was between them, even if the context was so unclear to him.
As Prim felt Momo's chapped lips peppering light kisses across his face and neck, he couldn't help but respond to his subconscious disguised as a terribly curious Imar.
"I've found my home, yeah. Been knowing it for a while, but only now I can truly admit it to myself." Prim replied in his mind, now looking straight at a pair of green eyes admiring him from such close proximity.
His safe space. His counterpart in this overwhelming world.
"Thanks, Imar. I do owe you this time."