Work Text:
kazehaya tatsumi was an artist, himeru his muse.
in fact, most of tatsumi’s works could be distinctly recognized as him. yes, tatsumi spent a lot of time painting, drawing, studying himeru. secretly (not so secretly), tatsumi was in love with himeru.
how could he not fall in love with him? his toned figure. the way his amber eyes seemed to gaze deeply at his own. his always perfectly styled hair. his… everything. at everything himeru said and did, he could only feel himself falling further and further for his muse.
-
it was a cold day out, and himeru and tatsumi were just a few feet apart from each other in tatsumi’s little studio. himeru was poised on a stool, only a sheer scarf to barely cover him. tatsumi sat across him behind his canvas, the sound of quick brushstrokes filling the room.
“kazehaya tatsumi,” himeru broke the silence. tatsumi’s eyes flickered up to him, his head peeking just past the easel.
“yes, himeru?”
“why don’t you ever show himeru your work?” it was true, tatsumi hadn’t shown his work to himeru – save for when he was first trying to get himeru to pose for him and showed his work in the hopes of convincing him it’d be worth his while – but why ask that now?
“i... have..” tatsumi trailed off. when was the last time he could remember showing himeru his work?
“himeru has seen it, but.. you’ve never shown him any of the pieces he has posed for.”
“oh.”
“himeru would love to see them.”
“you wouldn’t.”
“but “i” would,” he insisted.
“i don’t know about that,” tatsumi whispered, “oh, we can take a break now,” he added, dropping the subject (at least for now). he stood up from his stool, moving to lounge on a small chaise he kept in the room.
-
he couldn’t help himself from staring, observing himeru’s movements and body when he really didn’t need to. whether it was out of habit or true admiration, he could never really tell. himeru had never pointed it out if it was noticeable, so he never really thought it a problem. besides, himeru was currently drinking a small glass of water, it wasn’t like he’d notice now.
“kazehaya tatsumi.”
“hm?”
“is something wrong?” himeru asked, turning to him.
“no. why?”
a long pause.
“you’re staring.” himeru pointed out, not missing the flush that creeped onto tatsumi’s face. cute.
“is that so?”
“very much so. you’re really red too,” himeru continued, feigning oblivion to the reason tatsumi was as red as he was, “is it chilly?”
“ah. that must be it,” he regained his composure as best as he could, though not bothering to change the room’s temperature, himeru noted, “shall we continue?”
himeru nodded, returning to his previous pose.
-
himeru couldn’t exactly say he wasn’t in love with tatsumi.
himeru being tatsumi’s muse was supposed to be a one time thing.
he hadn’t expected that the man who had first approached him on the street, asking around for someone, anyone to model, would be painting him as he was now, months later.
as tatsumi painted him, himeru often couldn’t help but look around the room – looking around the room was his way of studying tatsumi as he would himeru, a glimpse into his mind, his personality, his life. the abandoned, barely distinguishable sketches hastily taped to the walls. the messy, yet organized shelves of materials he kept, spilling from boxes along the small walls. his eyes led him to tatsumi’s figure. his reclusive posture, hunched in over his canvas as he worked. the way he tapped his feet in time with his humming. his face of concentration, perhaps admiration, as he poked his head from behind the large canvas to get a look at himeru — not that it was admiration, though. himeru could only dream.
it was the little things himeru noticed, and it was the little things that made him fall further and further for kazehaya tatsumi.
-
this wasn’t good. of course, it was good, but himeru never planned this. he never planned to be sitting in the same studio so many times over a few months’ time. he refused to model for the same person more than twice, his personal rule. he had tried it before, but it felt so suffocating being in the same place for so long. a sense of intense confinement would always fill him despite the often-larger studios he would model in. and it was always so.. awkward, him sitting naked for hours while someone painted him? yes, it was sort of his job, but it never got any less awkward. and here he was. in the same small studio, with the same painter, for the nth time. yet, he didn’t have the same unshakeable claustrophobic feeling that gripped him every time he modeled for other artists. what was it about tatsumi that made himeru gravitate to him so much?
this was supposed to be at least a little professional.. it was wrong for him to be feeling this, right? but still... when he looked at him with that softness in his eyes? when he invited him to pose so often, in the smallest of studios? how could he not fall for tatsumi, at least a little, with the overwhelming, yet gentle intimacy of it all?
-
“himeru,” tatsumi started from behind his canvas, painting yet another piece in the blue-haired man’s likeness.
“yes?”
“how is it that we’ve never talked outside of my studio?”
“you’ve never asked himeru to.”
“is that so? ...then, himeru would be willing to go out with me sometime?”
“what makes you think so?” himeru replied, maybe a bit ruder-sounding than he intended.
“you aren’t declining,” tatsumi pointed out, smiling.
“alright, well.. go out? as in..” himeru trailed off.
“ah.. not in.. that way...” tatsumi added nervously. he hadn’t meant to possibly scare himeru off.. but maybe it was still worth trying to at least be friends, right?
himeru’s face faltered, hopefully blocked by tatsumi’s canvas, “ah.. right,” he paused. would it still be worth trying, even if tatsumi wasn’t inviting him out like that? “when would you like to meet?”
tatsumi’s face brightened, and himeru could see his smile from where he sat, “hm.. are you free tomorrow, maybe? we could go to this bakery down the street, and it leads to a shopping district and maybe we could walk around the shops for a little?” he offered.
“at what time will himeru will join you?”
“maybe.. three?”
“alright. himeru will be waiting in front of the bakery. don’t be late.” he teased. teased? himeru couldn’t believe the tone he’d just used. what was this man doing to him?
a soft laugh from behind the easel broke himeru’s thoughts “alright, himeru. ill be there right at three.”
himeru paused, reveling in the sound of tatsumi’s laugh, “then.. “i” look forward to seeing you, kazehaya tatsumi.”