Work Text:
13:00 pm.
One unread notification from Keito.
Setting up. Let yourself in when you get here.
Eichi hums to himself as he reads, thumb hovering over it before swiftly liking the message in acknowledgment. He doubts that Keito is still looking at his phone for anything beyond reference or instruction, knowing his work ethic. Mild weather settles over his skin, breeze ruffling pesky locks that already insist on curling outwards. Endearing to some, notably Keito himself, so Eichi attempts to not feel as much dismay toward the matter. As long as his appearance works for whatever piece Keito has requested him to model for, it’s not a big deal.
The walk across campus to the studio Keito has taken over isn’t long at all, conveniently close to Eichi’s dorm. A mere five minute walk maximum, surprisingly peaceful as fellow students travel to and fro. Some sit on nearby benches, the occasional art student deep in concentration with a sketchbook perched upon their knees. Some gather in groups, taking up small parts of the rather large courtyard he cuts through, laughing amongst themselves. The light atmosphere brings a small smile to Eichi’s lips, still present as he slips through the main doors to the fine arts building.
It isn’t a place he frequents on his own, rather becoming intimately acquainted with the building through Keito or other mutual friends of theirs, though he adores it as if it were his home as well.
Keito is still adjusting white petals along floral arrangement wire when Eichi arrives in the doorway to the room he had specified, brow furrowed in concentration as he bends and twists each bud to lie where he needs them. It takes him a moment to look up, Eichi’s knuckles gently rapping against the paint stained doorway.
His gaze darts to the source, Eichi giving a small wave as he enters the room.
“I did say you could just let yourself in.” Keito reminds, though no exasperation can be heard in his words. His head turns back to face his task at hand, and Eichi laughs quietly.
“You did,” he agrees, curious gaze sweeping across the various items Keito has scattered about. Clearly in a rush, and Eichi wonders just how he came to procrastinate so badly on this project. If that is truly the case, at least.
“You seemed very focused, though, so I figured I would knock anyway.”
Acrylic paint bottles make a semi circle around a blank canvas a few feet from where Keito remains crouched, cursing under his breath as a fake white petal pops off into his palm. Resigned, he places it gently on the ground, deeming his preening done for now as he stands up straight.
“You wouldn’t have startled me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he starts, soft footsteps taken toward the easel Eichi has wandered over to.
Eichi nods in response, and then again toward the backdrop Keito has created for him.
“Will I be posing in front of that?”
Keito follows his gaze, and then nods once, firmly.
“As long as you don’t mind.”
They both know he doesn’t, would have stopped accepting these requests long ago if he did — he finds something comforting about allowing Keito to paint him. Whether they sit in mutual silence for hours, or if they find themselves deep in distracted conversation as Keito’s attention wanders; it’s something Eichi has grown to enjoy.
Eichi makes to set his belongings down out of sight, approaching the backdrop after. Keito follows shortly, and the pair get to work with posing the blond. After a bit of back and forth, troubleshooting and brainstorming, they deem themselves ready.
Eichi settles into position amongst the flora, delicate petals brushing against pale hair. His head tilts slightly as Keito had instructed, hands clasped gently before him as a blue rose is placed between interlocked fingers. They exchange one last look, Keito giving an affirming nod before Eichi closes his eyes. Peaceful expression maintained even as he can hear Keito flit about, taking pictures with his phone in order to preserve the reference they’ve created. He knows the project will take him much longer than the period of time he’ll have Eichi sitting for him, even if he’d prefer to have the real thing present the entire time he works. For now, this’ll do, Eichi still nestled in without complaint. He’s glad that Eichi is a good model, one that doesn’t move around too horribly much, strangely good at staying still — his pose isn’t a difficult one to begin with, but ease is always appreciated when deadlines are approaching.
Eventually, Eichi can make out the sound of brush against canvas. He’s not sure how much time goes by before the other man seems to pause, eyes opening as he hears Keito approach. Paint stains parts of his palms and fingers, and Eichi finds amusement in the mess that clings to him.
“We can take a break for now,” Keito offers a hand before thinking better of it. A giggle leaves Eichi in response, the blond rising to his feet in order to stretch his legs a bit. It’s now that he decides to ask about the actual meaning behind the assignment, and Keito hums.
“The main focus is the flowers, and that there had to be a subject for a portrait,” he starts, gaze flitting to the floral arrangement in question. Eventually returning to the blue rose that still rests between Eichi’s fingers, plastic stem rolled between knuckles as Eichi listens. The blond is also looking at it, seemingly deep in thought.
“I don’t have the best knowledge of hanakatoba,” Eichi slowly admits, and Keito begins to see where he’s going with his line of inquiry.
“But, I do recognize something as basic as a rose.” Blue meets green, holding eye contact.
“White rose, for honor,” and the unspoken main meaning is painfully obvious as it hangs between Keito’s uttered words.
“And for love, yes?” Eichi finishes, and Keito nods. A smile curls the blond’s lips in response. Despite the quiet admission, Eichi breezes past the implications — for now, at least. Opting to instead inhale, and pose an interesting question.
“Do you think I’ve ever been in love?”
Keito blinks once, twice.
“I don’t think I can tell you that, Eichi.”
Eichi nods, rose going still between his fingers.
“Then, have you ever been in love?”
Keito huffs, almost a laugh underneath his breath. His gaze drifts once more.
“Yellow and white camelia, for longing, for waiting,” he supplies, returning to watching Eichi, who seems to grasp aforementioned implications a bit more this time. He stares at the blue rose, nods once, and then looks to Keito with an odd light to his eyes.
“Can I try something that may help me answer my own question, in that case?”
A quiet tension envelops the pair as Eichi takes a step forward. He’s never been amazing at differentiating his own emotions, especially ones as complex as love — but he knows that Keito makes him feel a different way than any other person does. That he brings along feelings of safety, of comfort. Of warmth. He thinks he might know the answer to his own question, but as he glances briefly at Keito’s mouth, he finds that he’d like to test this hypothesis more now than ever. Keito nods, jerkily, Eichi’s intentions clear as day.
The gap closes almost instantly, the pair joining their lips together. Keito, forgetting the mess staining his hands, cups Eichi’s face. He only realizes it when Eichi fails to stifle a yelp as they kiss, and Keito pulls away to the sight of blue and yellow fingerprints left on Eichi’s cheeks. They both laugh, not fully separated until Eichi finally takes a step back. Both hearts beat a mile a minute, Eichi trying and failing to cover his wide grin with the blue rose he still holds.
“I should…clean this off before it stains,” his cheeks are red as he processes his realization, and Keito quietly agrees. The unspoken understanding still lies between them, a precious conversation stowed away for after their session, but it could not be any clearer.
Eichi loves him back.
The blue flower rests on the ground, framed by camelia and roses.
“A blue rose,” Keito breathes into the temporarily empty room, “for a dream come true.”