Work Text:
Yusuke is an artist. More than that, Yusuke is an artist with no insignificant amount of skill. It's not arrogance that he considers himself as such, merely objective fact. Which is why it's so frustrating that he seems to be stuck on such a simple subject of study.
Or, simple isn't that appropriate a descriptor. People are complex, from an aesthetic perspective, but by now it's a familiar complexity. Depicting someone as they appear in life is something well within Yusuke's abilities. That's where the frustration lies; as an artist he's no stranger to the struggles levied by honing his craft, but this type of regressive quandary is quite vexing. It's a struggle Yusuke is determined to overcome, no matter how many sketchbooks must be sacrificed.
The problem seems to be, specifically, with Ryuji. There's no such discrepancy between life and likeness for anyone else; not in his idle sketches while people-watching in Shibuya, nor in his figure drawings at Kosei. Yusuke had thought, perhaps, it was the nature of their relationship that was the root of the problem. After all, Yusuke's experience with art often entailed the depiction of strangers; it wasn't until recently that he found himself in the position to make use of a subject more significant than a passing acquaintance. But, that avenue of inquiry was quickly dismissed. Yusuke had no trouble capturing the likeness of the rest of friends to his own satisfaction. It's just Ryuji alone that eludes him.
Even when he's not sketching, Yusuke finds himself carefully scrutinizing Ryuji, trying to isolate what could possibly be giving him so much grief. Defined musculature, fairly average in student athletes. Nothing particularly unique in facial structure, nothing that should be particularly difficult to capture. And yet, Yusuke's left with countless sketches, none of which seem to truly capture Ryuji.
It's irritating.
There's something about the ambiance of a cafe that lends itself well to art. Not to mention, the gentle gaze of Sayuri is always a comfort. Still, relaxing in Leblanc doesn't seem to be enough to combat this strange rut Yusuke finds himself in, and he's left with yet another subpar page of sketches from memory.
At the very least, he's in good company. Ann sits beside him, Futaba across, the two of them idly chatting as he flips to another page and starts another sketch. It's of them, something light and simple to keep in practice, and if he's honest, something to assure himself that the fault doesn't lie in his own skill.
"You've been drawing a lot," Ann notes, peering over his shoulder when he sets aside his pencil. "Is there a show coming up or something?"
"Nothing of the sort," Yusuke says, closing his sketchbook. "Unfortunately, I-"
"Hey!" Futaba squawks, making a grab for his art. "Don't be stingy! If you're gonna draw us, at least let us see!"
"Very well," Yusuke concedes. When it comes to Futaba, it's wise to pick and choose which battles are worth fighting. In this case, better to indulge her whims than challenge her to a meaningless contest of will. "Just that page, alright?"
"Yeah, yeah." Futaba flips the book open, her and Ann crowding over it. "Woah, her hair is so fluffy!" she exclaims. "Seeing this just makes me want to reach over and..." Futaba sticks her hand in one of Ann's pigtails. Ann endures. And then, Futaba starts flipping through the rest of his sketchbook. "Huh, there's a lot of Ryuji in here."
"Don't look at those," Yusuke snaps, snatching his sketchbook out of Futaba's hands.
"Yeesh, someone's grumpy." Futaba rolls her eyes, irreverent as ever. "What's the big deal?"
"They're awful."
"What are you talking about?" Futaba asks. "They look the same as all your other stuff. If you promise not to get a big head over it, I'd say it's pretty good."
Yusuke shakes his head. "They're awful," he repeats, because what more is there to say?
"Why do you think they look bad?" Ann asks.
"I don't know," Yusuke admits. "Don't you think these sketches have a certain lack?" He allows her to take back custody of the sketchbook and she flips through with much more careful consideration than Futaba, which prompts Futaba to join her in scrutiny.
Ann hums, propping her chin on an idle hand. "Not really. It just looks like Ryuji." Then, as she continues flipping through, "Jeez, this is... a lot of Ryuji."
"None of them look right," Yusuke insists. "There's something missing."
"I dunno," Futaba says, a furrow of appropriate gravitas etched into her brow as she examines each page. "This looks like Ryuji to me. You sure it isn't just you?"
"Why would I invent flaws in my own work?" Yusuke asks, a little cross.
"Well," Ann drawls, a contemplative lilt to the word, "these are just from when we're hanging out, right? If you're having trouble drawing Ryuji, why not ask him to model for you? Try something more official?"
"Ask him to model...? Of course!" It seems so obvious in hindsight. Yusuke takes out his phone, immediately sending the request. "I'll solve this dilemma yet!"
"Wait," Ann starts, "you're doing this now?"
"I don't see why not." Especially since Ryuji's already sent a reply. Apparently he's amenable as long as no stripping is required. Yusuke gathers up his things, perhaps a little haphazardly, but artistic revelations wait for no man.
"That's Inari for you," Futaba says as he practically sprints out the door.
"So, what, you just want me to sit?" Ryuji asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He shifts his weight as he glances around the studio with an air of uncertainty.
"The center of the room," Yusuke directs, rearranging the chairs. "Face towards the window, if you would." And once Ryuji takes a seat, a somewhat rigid set to his shoulders, Yusuke starts to sketch.
It's... more of the same. But, here in a studio, his domain, surely there's some epiphany within reach if he just keeps at it.
After about ten minutes of silence, aside from the sound of graphite against paper, Ryuji lets out a frustrated groan and turns to face Yusuke. "Look, if I did something wrong, can you just tell me!?"
It's a jarring subject change - subject introduction, more like - startling enough that Yusuke skips over his first instinct of 'don't move' and instead asks, "What do you mean?"
"You've been really weird! Weirder than normal, I mean! You don't talk, you're always glaring at me over your sketchbook, it... it really effin' sucks! what did I do! What's this about!"
"I don't understand," Yusuke says, thoroughly thrown for a loop.
"What's not to understand!?" Ryuji exclaims, part question and part demand. At Yusuke's unchanged expression of complete bewilderment, he falters somewhat. "You serious? So like, you're not mad at me?"
"Should I be?" Yusuke asks.
"I don't know!" Ryuji gestures emphatically, arms raised in some sort of helpless exasperation. "To be honest, I thought this was some kind of excuse to talk something out!"
"That's pointless," Yusuke says. "If I had any grief with you, I'd simply address it."
"Yeah. You really would." Ryuji sighs, and shakes his head. Energy seems to drain out of him, and the relief he exudes sends a small stab of guilt through Yusuke. "Sorry, I dunno what I was thinking, I just... I was really confused, y'know?"
"You don't need to apologize, it was my own ambiguity that led you to your conclusions. Please, allow me to explain myself."
Even as he says that, Yusuke's not quite sure exactly what to explain.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he starts.
"You- huh!?"
Yusuke opens a sketchbook, one filled with loose paper stuffed between its pages, and lets the paper scatter across the room. He does the same with a second sketchbook, and then again with a third. By now, the floor is covered with sketches, all of Ryuji.
"What the..." Ryuji reaches down, picking up several of the sketches. "Damn! These are pretty good!"
"They're not," Yusuke says. "None of them are."
"Dude. What are you talking about?"
"None of them convey who you are."
"I dunno, pretty sure that's me," Ryuji says, skepticism coloring his words. And, if the subject himself sees nothing wrong with his own likeness, perhaps Yusuke really is inventing flaws in his own work. But there's some dissatisfaction that continues to tug insistently at Yusuke.
"It doesn't convey who you are to me," Yusuke explains, and that elaboration leaves him feeling on the cusp of revelation.
"Huh?"
"These sketches, they don't impart the right feelings. Not enough warmth, not enough... intimacy," Yusuke decides. "I should be only drawing what I see from life. Why am I so troubled by these abstract notions?"
"So, what, you want people to see these and know we're, uh... close...?" Ryuji tries, his voice pitched somewhat odd.
"I suppose... that might be the case." It's a new angle he hadn't thought to pursue, but it seems promising. "Perhaps I need to experiment a little. Different styles, different mediums, there must be some way I can properly convey how fond I am of you."
"Fond...?"
"Of course. If it's the abstract... warm colors would work. Something vivid, but as much as I enjoy working with oils, perhaps acrylics would be better suited-"
"Hold on, back up, what- how," Ryuji trails off, taking some time to gather his thoughts. "How exactly do you feel? About me, I mean."
"You're important to me," Yusuke replies. But, that doesn't quite cover it. At this point in his life there are quite a few people who are important to him. "You're frequently in my thoughts, even when I'm not preoccupied with my current artistic dilemma. While you can be quite crass, I admire your compassion, your instinct towards kindness. Being on the receiving end of it..." Yusuke can't help but smile. "It's quite reassuring. Nothing makes me happier. You're wonderful, Ryuji."
"This is..." Ryuji laughs, an uncertain sound that fills the room. A slight flush dusts his face. "Not gonna lie, it's starting to sound kinda like... a confession?"
Yusuke blinks. "A what?"
"No, never mind! Forget I said that!"
"No, no, that's it!" Yusuke exclaims as the last piece of the puzzle slides into place.
"It's what!?"
"Of course!" Yusuke continues. "How could my art properly convey my feelings for you if I myself don't fully understand the context of my affections!"
"Your, uh-"
"Now that I understand my own feelings, I'm sure I can certainly overcome this rut. How long can you stay?"
"Wait a sec, you can't just-! Yusuke!"
Yusuke pauses in the middle of bringing out another sketchbook. "Hm?"
"I mean you... like me?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"Aren't you curious about how I feel?" Ryuji asks, incredulous.
"Ah." Now that it's been brought up, it's a question at the forefront of Yusuke's mind, and he feels somewhat chagrined. "Yes. Well, Ryuji. You already know my feelings towards you. Your response...?"
"Holy shit." Ryuji buries his face in his hand, the tips of his ears bright red. "I've... never really thought about until now. Fuck, I feel like I just ran a marathon."
Cryptic, and not a very illuminating answer. Yusuke's about to ask what that means, but then Ryuji reaches out, takes him by the hand, and stares at him with an arresting kind of intensity.
"Hey," Ryuji starts, "I think... I mean, can we...?" Then, at Yusuke's questioning stare, he drops his head to Yusuke's shoulder. "This is so embarrassing."
Despite Ryuji's obvious agitation, this kind of contact... it's nice. "What's wrong?" Yusuke asks, somewhat distracted by the weight of Ryuji against him.
"I don't know, now just seems like a good time to, like, go in for a kiss! But it seems kind of rude without asking?"
"Oh, I see." Well, there's Yusuke's answer, at least. He lets out a quiet laugh, partially out of relief. "For someone with so little impulse control, you really are delicate about matters concerning romance. Quite a contrast."
Ryuji glares, hackles thoroughly raised. "Are you trying to pick a fight!?"
"Not at all. It's charming."
"It's- uh, I. Thanks," Ryuji says. He simmers in fluster a little longer before Yusuke takes pity on him, and decides to help him along.
"You can, if you'd like."
"Huh?"
"Kiss me."
Ryuji makes some sort of half-choked sound, and Yusuke can feel him freeze up. "I'm dead. There's no way I just heard you say that. Shit. Holy shit."
"Do you want me to say it again?"
"If you do I think I'll actually die." Ryuji reaches up tentatively to cup Yusuke's cheek in what's barely a caress. "So you're okay with it? Or, no, like... you want me to?" He asks.
It's a sincere question, so Yusuke puts sincere thought into it. "I'd like the experience," he decides. It's Ryuji, after all.
"Okay. Alright." Ryuji, truth be told, looks a bit of a wreck. But, just as Yusuke's about to suggest a break of some sort, he lurches forward and presses his lips against Yusuke's. It's a split second of contact before Ryuji reels back, looking somewhat belligerent despite the situation.
He seems... anticipatory. Clearly expecting some reaction. So Yusuke obliges with, "The physical sensation isn't very noteworthy."
"Thanks," Ryuji deadpans, the comfortable familiarity of sarcasm providing him some measure of calm.
"But the fact that this is an expression of the feelings you have towards me... I feel quite elated," Yusuke says. "Shall we do it again?"
Ryuji lets out a huff of fond exasperation, a grin on his face that's quite a pleasant sight. "Yeah, sure." He leans up, this time with much more confidence, and Yusuke meets him halfway.