FIC FOR PIPSQUEAKS
For: pipsqueaks
From: tatoeba
Title: Impressionism
Pairings/Characters: Akanishi Jin/Ueda Tatsuya, with some Kamenashi, Nakamaru and Nishikido
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. 9479 words.
Notes: For pipsqueaks, I’m really happy I got to write for you, and I really, really hope that you’ll enjoy this fic. :3 Also thanks so much to L for the handholding and inspiration, and A for the beta. The title refers to the type of art during the Impressionism art movement. This fic is also very loosely inspired by the manga MARS by Soryo Fuyumi.
Summary: After just one glance, Ueda thinks he’s found the perfect model.
He’s the tall, broad-shouldered soccer player with his hair pulled up in a messy ponytail and the number four printed across the back of his jersey. He’s loud, boisterous, and clearly the make-shift captain of this group of young men playing soccer in the park.
Ueda looks down at his lap, the sketchbook page now almost completely full of drawings of this man. He hears loud cheering and looks up in time to see Number Four - as Ueda has grown accustomed to calling him - weave around one of his friends and kick the ball into the goal. A smile crosses Ueda’s face as he watches the man grin and laugh and get tackled by his two teammates. They’ve won the game today.
Ueda closes his book and slips his charcoal pencils back into their case and puts both into his messenger bag. There’s no reason to stick around now when the game is done. As he stands up from the bench he was occupying, he feels something hit his feet. Glancing down he finds the soccer ball and almost instantaneously hears a voice call out, “Sorry! Can you grab that?”
Ueda does as he’s told and turns to find none other than player number four jogging over to meet him. Ueda nearly drops the ball again, but thankfully the man is there to take it before he can.
“Thanks!” he says and flashes Ueda a bright grin, the same one he sported not five minutes ago as he made the winning goal. And Ueda can only nod slightly before he’s gone, joining his group of five other friends.
He watches them for an extra moment, until they turn their backs on him and walk away. Ueda sighs and goes in the opposite direction, heading back to his studio. He’s nearly ambushed the instant he steps inside, his friend and colleague dragging him in and screaming, “Where have you been? You have a class starting in ten minutes!”
Ueda just rolls his eyes and snakes his arm out of Kame’s grip, turning to the younger man with exasperation. “It’s fine, I’m here, aren’t I?” he says, heading into the back office and dumping his bag onto his desk. “What’re you so freaked out about?”
Kame deflates a little, leaning back against a side of the doorway. He crosses his arms over his chest and says instead of answering Ueda’s question, “Where were you?”
“Nowhere particular,” Ueda answers, busy taking his pencils and sketchbook out from his bag.
This proves to be an instant mistake however as Kame lunges for the latter, snatching it from Ueda’s hands and flipping to the last used page. Kame sighs as he sees the sketches of Number Four just before Ueda takes the book back with a glare.
“You were stalking him again?”
“I’m not stalking anyone,” Ueda snaps. “He just happened to be in the park when I was there.”
Kame makes a noise of disbelief. “This is like the tenth time you’ve been over there creepily sketching him in the past few weeks,” he informs, like Ueda doesn’t already know. “What’s so great about him?”
“He makes for an interesting subject, that’s all,” Ueda says. “You should get that.”
“I do,” Kame says, follows Ueda out of the room as he leaves to start setting up for his afternoon painting class. “I just think it’s boring. The same person over and over again.”
“Fine, if it bothers you that much next time I’ll sketch you,” Ueda suggests with a grin.
Kame laughs. “I’m not bothered by it. I just think it’s weird. You don’t know him.”
Ueda smirks. “Sounds like you’re jealous, Kame.”
Kame makes his unimpressed face at him and Ueda laughs. “Come on,” Ueda says, pats Kame on the back as he passes him, “help me move these easels for class.”
* * *
Despite Kame’s disapproval, Ueda’s back at the park the next day, occupying his usual bench that happens to overlook both the playground and the open field. He’s working on a piece of a mother and child, staring off towards the swing-set but glancing every once in awhile toward the field when he hears someone talking, a glimmer of hope bubbling in his chest only to be let down time and time again because it’s not who he’s hoping for.
So maybe it really is a little weird, Ueda muses as he works on the child’s small hand clutching desperately at his mother’s shirt, to be so focused on some guy he doesn’t know. But Ueda doesn’t really care; as an artist inspiration can be drawn from anywhere, anything, anyone - and right now, Number Four is what makes Ueda inspired.
The first time Ueda saw him was two weeks ago. He’d been in the park for fun, working on some landscape sketches when he had walked right into that field, pulling the blue jersey with the four printed across the back over his head and shouting towards his slower moving friends. Ueda was instantly enraptured by his lithe movements and his brilliant smile. Before he knew it, he had started sketching, his pencil moving in quick strokes across the rough paper, that smile vivid in the back of his mind even when Number Four had turned away, his brow now creased in concentration.
That day Ueda sat in the park for almost five hours, completing three pages of drawings of this man he didn’t even know until he packed up and left with his friends. And the next day Ueda returned to the park around the same time with his sketchbook and pencils and watched from the side as Number Four played another game with his friends. And then to avoid seeming like a creeper, he waited three days before going back.
Today marks the twelfth day Ueda has gone to see him at the park. So maybe he is stalking him. But it’s for his paintings, his art, his work so he doesn’t feel as bad about it as he probably should. Ueda doesn’t care what anyone thinks, anyway. It’s not like Number Four will ever find out Ueda was secretly using him as a model. It’s harmless, Ueda thinks, as he presses his charcoal pencil in smooth strokes across the paper, eyes glancing up every once in awhile to look at Number Four, his movements never ceasing.
He ends up stopping short that day as it begins to rain. Cursing, Ueda quickly shoves his things back into his bag and pulls his hood over his head. He glances back toward the filed, expecting the players to have left, but they’re till there, and Number Four has the ball, grinning and laughing despite the downpour of the rain pelting him. Ueda watches mesmerized, as Number Four swerves and passes and gets the ball back, running across the field in flawless motion. He kicks at the goal, he scores, and Ueda lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He watches as Number Four cheers, louder than the torrential rain, loud enough that Ueda can hear the beautiful sound resonate within his heart, spreading warmth straight throughout his whole body. He smiles as Number Four gets tackled by his friends, and then turns and heads back to the studio.
* * *
“Why are you bringing me?” Kame complains.
“Because you’re the better photographer and I want some stills.”
“I don’t want to be involved in your stalking.”
“It’s not stalking!”
“Then why are we hiding behind this tree?” Kame arches an eyebrow.
Ueda flushes. “Shut up.”
Kame stares at him and Ueda gives him big, pleading eyes. He sighs. “Fine, fine,” Kame says, “but you owe me.”
“Whatever you want,” Ueda says, beaming.
Kame sighs and heads out, walking aimlessly around the park, but Ueda see him stopping occasionally to take pictures near where Number Four and his friends are playing again. Ueda leans against the tree, his new hideaway - where he can watch perfectly but be out of clear view. He pulls out his sketchpad and starts a few drawings of his secret-model.
He doesn’t get very far before someone shouts “Look out!” and Ueda glances up in time to see a soccer ball whirling towards his head. He kicks out of the way, hears the ball whish past him followed by a “Fuck!” and the rush of feet. When he looks up again Number Four is running at him. In the distance he sees Kame, eyes concerned, but Ueda just shakes his head a fraction to each side and Kame turns away.
“I’m sorry!” Number Four says when he reaches Ueda.
“I-It’s okay,” Ueda replies easily, trying not to stare at the way the man’s long hair falls in curls around his face.
Number Four blinks at him. “Oh! You were here that other day when we kicked the ball off the field. I thought you seemed familiar.”
Ueda’s stomach flip-flops from being recognized. “Uh, yeah, that was me.”
Number Four laughs. “You’re just always in the way, aren’t you?”
“Or maybe you’re just disrupting my peace and quiet because you can’t play properly,” Ueda returns and Number Four smirks.
“Oh, really?” he says. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”
Ueda’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No-No, that’s okay, I should-”
He gets cut off by a sudden shout of “Akanishi!” They turn toward the field where one of Number Four’s friends is standing looking annoyed.
“Stop flirting and get back here!”
Number Four - Akanishi - Ueda corrects in his head, laughs and looks slightly embarrassed and only then does Ueda realize what his friend had said. He flushes as well, glances away.
“Sorry about him,” Akanishi says. “He’s annoyed because he’s losing.”
Ueda looks back over and notices the angry look in the man’s eyes. “Better go and win then,” Ueda says and Akanishi smiles that beautiful smile of his and gives Ueda a short nod because rushing off to join his friends. Ueda watches him shove his angry friend before quickly re-starting the game in his distraction and laughs as another “Akanishi!” rips through the air.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Kame says, appearing beside Ueda and startling him.
Ueda tries not to blush and pointedly does not meet Kame’s eyes. He packs up his things and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kame merely rolls his eyes and Ueda gives him a short glare before leading the way out of the park.
* * *
Ueda stares at his half-sketched drawing and frowns. He glances up, around the park, and frowns even deeper as he can’t see Akanishi anywhere. He’s been here for two hours and neither Akanishi nor his friends have arrived yet and it’s well past their usual time. He sighs, figures it’s impossible for them to be here everyday. Gloomily, Ueda decides to just finish this drawing and then return home as he can’t spend the entire day here waiting and waiting and waiting - even he knows that’s pushing it.
“That’s really good! Can you draw me?” says a familiar voice suddenly over Ueda’s shoulder and he nearly jumps a foot in the air.
When he turns around he finds Akanishi leaning over the back of the park bench. He grins, eyes bright behind his bangs, and Ueda feels his breath catch in his throat.
“Hi,” he says.
“H-Hi,” Ueda replies. “Y-You surprised me.”
Akanishi chuckles and walks around, sits beside Ueda, leans back with complete nonchalance.
“So you’re an artist?” Akanishi says, nodding toward Ueda’s sketchbook.
Ueda quickly slams the book shut, holds it to his chest. He nods a little. “Yes,” he says.
“Is that what you’re always doing here? You’re drawing?” Akanishi asks. “I’ve been wondering.”
Ueda nods again. “I just find being here very…inspiring,” he says, meets Akanishi’s eyes for a brief moment and then looks away. Ueda tries not to look back at him too much, uncertain what to do now - it’s the first time Ueda’s seen him in street clothes. He’s in jeans that are ripped and faded at the knees, a white t-shirt with an obscene woman printed on the front under a black, sharp blazer. He has a white and blue baseball cap over his head, hair pulled up through the back.
“What’re you all dressed up for?” Ueda finds himself asking against his better judgment.
Akanishi smirks, smoothes down his blazer against his chest. “I’m going on a date.”
Ueda’s stomach traitorously sinks to his knees. “How cute,” he manages to snide and Akanishi nudges him in the ribs.
“Very funny,” he says.
Ueda offers him a grin, but it slowly falls as he looks away again. Suddenly his mood has soured and he’s packing up his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder as he gets to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Akanishi questions instantly.
“I-I have a class to teach soon so I need to go back,” Ueda lies, hopes Akanishi won’t see through him.
“You teach?”
Ueda nods. “At the small studio down the street.” He smiles. “See you later.” He waves slightly as he heads off, his smile slowly morphing into a frown. Just before he leaves the park, he glances back over his shoulder and feels his heart fall at the sight of a young, nicely dressed woman running up to Akanishi, at the sight of him pulling her into a hug.
Ueda sighs, turns around and heads home.
* * *
“I still think it’s creepy,” Kame says over Ueda’s shoulder, “but that’s turned out really well.”
Ueda bites his lower lip nervously and leans back to look over his newest work. He’s taken one of his many sketches of Akanishi from the park and has drawn it again onto a larger canvas with the plans of painting it soon. This particular sketch is one of his favorites: Akanishi has just made a winning goal, his face bright with that beautiful smile of his that makes Ueda’s knees week and his arms up in the air as he stares at the goal, at the goalie lunging towards the ball that whishes over his head and into the net behind him.
“Thanks,” Ueda says to Kame, flashing him a smile over his shoulder.
“You haven’t been down there in a few days.”
“How do you know that?”
Kame shrugs, returns to packing up the easels left out from his earlier class. “So it’s true? How come?”
Now Ueda shrugs. “I have what I need now, so I don’t have to go there all the time.”
“You mean this was really for work?” Kame gasps mockingly. “You didn’t have a creeper crush on that guy?”
Ueda rolls his eyes and ignores him, biting his lip again as he remembers what happened the last time he was there. He shakes his head with annoyance; he’s told himself to forget about that. He hasn’t told Kame about that time, and he’s not avoiding the park. He could go there if he wanted; he has no one to hide from. It’s not like cares about Akanishi that much to avoid him over something so stupid.
Ueda frowns as he stares at his canvas, at the sketch of Akanishi’s smiling face and slowly his eyes narrow into a glare.
“You tell that canvas,” Kame says as he passes by, patting Ueda on the shoulder, and hiding his laughter. Ueda glares at his back as he disappears into the back room and returns a few minutes later. Kame just laughs. “You’re not fooling anyone. If you want to see him, just go back. Didn’t stop you before.”
“Shut up,” Ueda mutters, looking away. “I didn’t say I wanted to see him.”
Kame shrugs. “Fine with me.”
“I’ll prove it. I’ll make it this whole week without going back there.”
Kame grins. “Great. Let’s make it a bet. Twenty dollars saying you’ll be back there before the week is over.”
Ueda nods confidently and holds out a hand. Kame takes it with a smirk and they shake on it.
* * *
He only makes it two days. Then he’s back at the park, at his usual bench, sitting cross-legged with his sandals upon the ground beneath him. His sketchbook is open on his lap, his pencil poised between his fingers, occasionally he bites on the eraser end, staring off around the area because, as luck would have it, he gave in on his bet on a day when Akanishi isn’t even there.
Ueda sighs. He’s not even sure what it is that propelled him to end up here this afternoon instead of working on his painting that’s half-finished, leaning against an easel in one of the back rooms. That’s what he should be doing, instead of creeping in the park, instead of having to cough up twenty dollars when he returns later and put up with Kame’s smug face for months to come.
He can’t deny that there’s just something about Akanishi that really gets to him. He wants to know more, wants to just watch him, look at him, talk to him. Wants him to think about Ueda just as much as Ueda thinks about him. It’s insane, he knows it, because they’ve only interacted three times and they’re not even friends, they haven’t even properly introduced themselves to each other. For all he knows, Akanishi thinks of him as the oddball artist who slums around the park every waking moment.
Ueda’s shoulders slump forward at the thought. He sighs again and is just thinking of packing up when a familiar voice shouts, “Hey!” in his direction.
Ueda looks up instantly, straightening up in his seat at the sight of Akanishi running toward him. He’s in his soccer uniform with his hair pulled up as usual. Ueda tries to ignore the hammering of his heart as he gets to his feet and meets him.
“You’re here!” Akanishi says excitedly, looking pleased. “You haven’t been around the past couple of days. I was worried.”
Ueda’s skin tingles and he forces himself not to blush. “I-I just got busy w-with work, and stuff,” he lies, completely perplexed that Akanishi would even care that much, that he’d even noticed Ueda’s absence at all.
“I was going to ask you about that,” Akanishi says and when Ueda looks at him blankly, he elaborates, “I wanted to see what you’ve drawn.”
“I-I-I don’t know about that,” Ueda stammers immediately. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away, and when Akanishi pouts at him and asks why, answers, “I-I don’t think it’s all that great. You probably won’t be interested.”
Akanishi laughs. “But I’m the one asking to see it, aren’t I?” he returns. “Come on, you must be somewhat decent if you have your own studio and teach classes.”
Ueda flushes despite himself. “Yeah, but-”
“Then it’s settled!” Akanishi interrupts. “I’ll stop by sometime. You can show me what you do.” He grins. “Maybe I’ll even sign up for a class.”
Ueda just blinks at him, blown away by Akanishi’s playful assertiveness. And before he can agree or disagree, Akanishi’s waving at him and rushing off towards the soccer field where his usual friends are gathered. Ueda stands transfixed to the spot for a whole minute, staring off into space, before he shakes his head, suppressing a smile. He sits back down on the bench with his legs crossed again, and turns to watch Akanishi play. His heart instantly warms at the sight and he thinks it’s worth paying Kame twenty dollars to never have to miss this.
* * *
He has no idea when Akanishi’s planning on stopping by, but he doesn’t want to risk it. So he hides all of his sketchbooks and paintings that have so much as a soccer ball drawn on them, let alone Akanishi himself.
Kame disapproves of the whole thing, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest, as Ueda shoved his sketchbooks into an old box and slid it under his desk. But Ueda knows it’s just because Kame wanted to see Akanishi’s reaction to Ueda’s creeper stalking, and not because he thought Ueda was doing the wrong thing.
Ueda ends up fretting about Akanishi stopping by the studio unannounced that he doesn’t ever leave it, except for when he goes home at night. He also doesn’t want to risk the chance of being elsewhere and returning to find Akanishi has met Kame and Kame has spilt every one of Ueda’s deep dark secrets. So he actually gets some decent work done; he still has his daily classes for painting and drawing and then together with Kame helps clean out the studio which hasn’t been done for months.
And this is what he’s doing when Akanishi strolls in three days later, pushing sunglasses over his head and smiling brightly. He’s flanked by two other men that Ueda vaguely recognize as being Akanishi’s usual soccer buddies from the field, and just about smirks when he finds Ueda on his hands and knees with a towel wrapped around his head scrubbing viciously at a stain on the floor with a giant yellow sponge in his hand.
“Somehow,” Akanishi says to a speechless Ueda, “I had a different image in mind when I was planning on coming here.”
Ueda snaps out of his shock quickly and jumps to his feet, tosses the sponge into the bucket next to him. He laughs a little, says, “It’s not like I sit here and paint all day long.”
Akanishi grins. “I guess even famous artists have to clean, too.”
Ueda flushes. “I-I am not famous,” he mutters but Akanishi just grins wider. Ueda sighs and glances off to the side where Akanishi’s friends are standing, looking slightly perplexed.
“Oh!” Akanishi says, turning to them. “These are my friends.” He gestures to the shorter of the two, the one who looks like he’d much rather be anywhere but here and says, “Nishikido Ryo,” and then nods toward the other, says, “And this is Nakamaru Yuichi.” Nakamaru offers Ueda a smile and a wave and Ueda decides he likes him better.
“We’re going to go play in a little bit. That’s why they came with me,” Akanishi explains.
Nishikido snorts. “No,” he says, looking at Ueda, “we came with him because he’s too much of a wuss to come by himself.”
Akanishi shoves him. “Am not!”
“Yes, you are,” Nakamaru inputs with a smirk. “You practically begged us to come along.”
Ueda stares in awe as Akanishi actually blushes and looks anywhere but at him. “Shut up,” he mutters to Nakamaru which only has both of his friends laughing at him.
Before the conversation has a chance to continue, Kame walks into the room from the back, stopping when he finds Akanishi and his friends. He looks at Ueda, then back at Akanishi. He smirks. Ueda knows that look and jumps in before Kame says something incriminating. “This is my friend Kamenashi. We run this studio together.”
Kame nods at the other three and walks over to where Ueda’s standing. “Not bad,” he whispers into Ueda’s ear. “I can see why you’d like him.”
Ueda nudges him in the stomach with an elbow but Kame only laughs good-naturedly. “Aren’t you going to introduce them?” he asks and Ueda’s eyes widen because Kame knows he hasn’t properly met Akanishi yet. He’s definitely doing this on purpose.
At a loss, Ueda glances at Akanishi whose eyes widen as he realizes the same thing. Kame laughs again, clearly enjoying this situation at Ueda’s expense, and both Nishikido and Nakamaru seem to have figured out what’s happened.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve never actually introduced yourselves to each other?” Nishikido says, sounding just a bit pained.
Akanishi turns sheepish eyes onto him as Ueda flushes. Nishikido shakes his head and Nakamaru sighs. “Figures,” he says, and Akanishi pouts.
“Well,” Kame says. “What’re you waiting for?”
Ueda turns to Akanishi and tries not to hyperventilate when Akanishi meets his gaze and smiles his knee-weakening smile. “Sorry for taking so long,” he says, holding out a hand, “I’m Akanishi Jin.”
Ueda slowly returns his smile, grasps his hand and feels calloused, rough fingers and a surge of incredible warmth that instantly melts away his nervousness. “Ueda Tatsuya,” he answers, grinning wider. “Nice to meet you.”
* * *
Akanishi comes again the next day, alone this time, while Ueda's in the middle of a class. He smirks a bit when Ueda falters in his lesson, and stands against the back wall, arms crossed, watching Ueda with intent. Ueda feels his eyes on him as he teaches, quickly going through the assignment before letting the class work on their own.
Ueda joins Akanishi in the back, smiling as he approaches and says, “I didn’t think I’d see you here again so soon.”
Akanishi grins. “I told you I wanted to see your art,” he says. “I couldn’t yesterday since my friends dragged me away.”
“Who said I was going to show you my work anyway?” Ueda replies and smirks when Akanishi fake-pouts at him.
“Well, crush my dreams, why don’t you,” Akanishi whines and Ueda can’t help but laugh.
He stops abruptly when he realizes Akanishi is staring at him, the corner of his lips quirked up. Ueda’s insides flip around and around from the look, and his cheeks heat up. “W-What?” he questions, feeling just a bit unnerved.
Akanishi leans in close and Ueda’s first instinct is to take a step away. But Akanishi follows, smirking wider, and then reaches a hand out to Ueda’s forehead and wipes his thumb across the skin. He pulls away and beams with accomplishment, and says, “You had some paint there.”
Ueda blushes harder; he’s sure his cheeks are a fiery red now, and quickly diverts his gaze, laughing humorlessly. “The mark of an artist,” he says easily and holds up his paint-streaked hands. “See?”
Akanishi chuckles and rubs his painted thumb across Ueda’s palm. “Should’ve known,” he says, as Ueda feels his heart leap in his chest from the simple press of Akanishi’s skin on his.
Thankfully he’s saved from a reply as one of his students call out, “Ueda-sensei!” and effectively startles both him and Akanishi from their suddenly created world of two. Ueda gives Akanishi a sheepish smile and says, “I have to go back.”
Akanishi looks immensely put out; Ueda can almost see Akanishi deflate before him and feels just a bit of happiness soaring in his veins. Uncertain what else to say, Ueda turns to leave but Akanishi grabs his hand before he can get away and says quickly, his voice rushed, words coming out in a jumbled mess as if he’s nervous to get it out all at once, “T-There’s a match this weekend. A soccer match. Like a real one, but not. It’s just me and my friends, and some other guys from around the city. We’ll be playing in the park again. Three o’clock. Saturday. I-If you’re not busy, maybe you could c-come and watch.”
Ueda’s eyes widen in surprise; this is the last thing he ever expected. Shock mixes in with excitement and he can’t find his voice fast enough to agree. For just a sliver of a second, Akanishi looks devastated, taking Ueda’s silence as rejection, and hastily lets go of Ueda’s hand, laughs hollowly.
“I-If you don’t want to, I’d understand-”
“No! No, I want to,” Ueda jumps in loudly, and flushes when his voice startles Akanishi as well as some of his students. “I want to,” he repeats, quieter and firmly, and Akanishi stares at him for a long moment before his face splits into a wide, breath-taking grin.
“Great!” he exclaims, reminding Ueda of a little kid who has just been given a new toy. It has him grinning back, and waving goodbye as Akanishi says, “See you then!” and vanishes out the doors.
* * *
Ueda makes Kame come along with him, after several days of pleading and begging and promising to do clean up duty for the next week. In the end, it’s Kame who’s more excited about the whole thing and Ueda knows he fell completely for his friend’s trap. He doesn’t care too much, he’d rather clean everyday for the next week than go to this game alone, especially when he arrives and finds it a much bigger affair than any other game he’s seen Akanishi play before. There are a lot of people, the teams are bigger and there are actually onlookers - friends, or family members, Ueda guesses - sitting and standing along the sidelines.
“Let’s go back,” Ueda says to Kame instantly and Kame laughs.
“You are unbelievable,” Kame says. “You’re staying. I had to hear you whine about this game for three days. You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Ueda says. “Now let’s leave before-”
“Too late,” Kame snickers and points over Ueda’s shoulder where Akanishi is peering in their direction. Kame waves at him and Ueda elbows him in the gut, and Akanishi grins widely before jogging over to meet them. Kame pushes Ueda a little and Ueda manages a quick glare in his direction before turning in time to greet Akanishi with a smile.
“You came,” he says sounding a little surprised.
“I-I said I would,” Ueda answers easily, his voice more confident than he actually feels. Akanishi has his hair up again, a sloppy ponytail that ends in curls, and is wearing his usual soccer outfit. “Though I didn’t realize this was going to be such a big deal.”
“It just looks like it,” Akanishi dismisses easily. “We’re not real teams. Just some guys with nothing better to do.”
Ueda smiles, because he’s seen the way Akanishi plays; putting 110% into every play, every movement, every kick, pass, and shot. “Either way,” Ueda replies. “Good luck.”
Akanishi beams and says, “Have fun watching. Don’t leave when it’s done okay?” before he waves and rushes back to join his teammates.
Ueda just manages to nod after him, always so blown away by Akanishi’s carefree attitude. Then his words click into Ueda’s head and he grabs Kame by the arm and says, “What does he mean not to leave when it’s done?”
“Did he say that?” Kame asks as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping the whole time. “He wants you to wait until he comes to see you after the game. Maybe he’ll ask you out.” Kame mock-gasps and Ueda smacks him.
“Come on,” Ueda sighs. “Let’s find a place to sit.”
They find a place under a large tree to sit, just close enough to watch but far enough to not be in the way. Kame pulls out his camera and gets to work without a word. Ueda fingers the sketchbook in his messenger bag but doesn’t take it out. His eyes are trained across the field at Akanishi, on the number four printed on his jersey, the way the wind makes his hair bounce. His back is to Ueda as he and the rest of his team are huddled in a circle; Ueda doesn’t recognize most of them though he does see both Nakamaru and Nishikido standing the closest to Akanishi. A few moments later they cheer, loudly, and break apart, heading off into position, and Akanishi turns, scans the crowds before his eyes land right on Ueda, whose breath dies in his throat at that moment their gazes meet. Akanishi grins, pumps his fist into the air and cheers again, and his teammates all respond with shouts of various nuances, then takes his position as right forward.
Ueda sucks in a breath as the game starts and his eyes widen - this is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The difference between the games he’s seen Akanishi play in the beginning and the one he’s participating in now is astounding: the speed, the energy, the concentration. The white soccer ball becomes just a blur against the green grass, followed continuously by kicks and dribbles and passes of different colored cleats. His eyes focus solely on Akanishi - it’s clear he’s the team’s MVP - the way he controls the field with his movements, passes to his teammates, calls out names, directions, retrieves the ball and makes a complicated twist of his feet, spins around on opposing player and then he kicks, and the ball whooshes through the air, catches in the net.
Cheers erupt all around and Akanishi gets tackled by the teammates closest to him. Ueda watches with amazement, feeling rather breathless, butterflies in his stomach. The game continues in this fashion, exhilarating and thrilling, and Ueda’s eyes rarely leave Akanishi’s form. He subconsciously pulls out his sketchbook and pencils and begins to draw as he watches, his hand moving just as quickly as the game, partially sketched images covering page after page as new scenes cross his gaze. Akanishi’s team scores goal after goal after goal, owning the field, the ball, the game. The opposing team eventually catches up, but just after their one goal, Akanishi scores two.
The game is over before Ueda knows it; he’s watching as Akanishi clears half of the field while the seconds count down. He passes to Nishikido to get an opposing player off his back, and Nishikido gets in close to the goal before sending the ball back. The opposing team gets to it first, kicks it off toward the other end of the field, the ball flying above them - and Nakamaru is there, head-butting it back to Akanishi who jump-kicks it in time for the ball to whiz past the goalie’s outstretched grasp and meet the net. The screams are almost deafening as the crowds applaud, as Akanishi does a victory back-flip and nearly gets pummeled to the ground by his friends.
Ueda watches with a jaw-splitting smile, mesmerized by the look of triumph in Akanishi’s eyes, the glowing smile that seems to illuminate the entire field. The butterflies in his stomach flutter faster, relentless, and his skin tingles with a happiness he can’t even begin to describe. Then Akanishi escapes his friends’ clutches, turns and looks straight at him, and Ueda, who has been falling obliviously for days, weeks, finally hits the ground hard.
* * *
Ueda avoids the park for four days. On the fifth, Akanishi shows up at the studio, and Ueda curses himself mentally for ever telling the other he worked here. Especially when Akanishi makes sad, pouty eyes at him and asks, “You haven’t been avoiding me, have you? I haven’t seen you in days.”
Ueda stares fixedly at mixing paint colors onto a palette. “I’ve just been busy lately,” he answers.
“That was your answer last time,” Akanishi says and Ueda can hear the whine in his voice, can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. “What’re you working on?” Akanishi questions when Ueda doesn’t say anything.
“A painting.”
“Well, I could’ve figured that much out,” Akanishi replies and Ueda gives into a small laugh, glancing up finally to look at him. “Are you busy today?”
Ueda wants to lie, wants to say yes, that he’s got a class in ten minutes, that he has a lot of projects to work on, but something holds him back. The look in Akanishi’s eyes, honest and genuine, hopeful, and Ueda can’t find it in him to say no. He shakes his head, answers, “I’m not busy today. Just working on a few things.”
“Great!” Akanishi says. “I’ll join you.”
And before Ueda can ponder what this means, Akanishi’s pulled up a chair to the opposite side of the table he’s working at, glances around a bit and grabs a couple of blank sheets of paper Kame left stacked in the middle of the table, and then looks around again, up at Ueda, and smirks. He leans across the table, reaches a hand out and Ueda sucks in a breath as Akanishi picks out the pencil he has resting on his left ear.
Grinning, Akanishi sits back down and gets right to work. Ueda stares for a long moment, his heart beating twice as fast and unable to calm down, until Akanishi looks back up and says, “What?”
“W-What’re you doing?”
“Drawing,” Akanishi answers like it’s obvious, and then drops his gaze to the paper again.
“…Of course,” Ueda sighs under his breath, and focuses his attention on mixing his paints. At least he tries to, but every few seconds his concentration drifts over to Akanishi, watching him instead of working on what he should be doing. Akanishi doesn’t seem to notice Ueda’s furtive glances, too absorbed in his own drawing. He’s hunched over the table, scratching furiously with the pencil, stops and leans away, assesses his work, pouts, tapping the eraser end of the pencil to his lips. Then he goes back in, erasing something and drawing more, over and over in this fashion. Ueda stares with amusement, his lips curling into a smile. He’s not sure how else to describe it but cute, his heart warm from the sight.
He manages to get his paints mixed properly, but then realizes the painting he meant to work on is the one of Akanishi he started earlier. He glances to the back of the room where the easel with the painting in question sits, thankfully sheltered by red flowing fabric. Ueda sighs in relief, glad he hadn’t brought it over, even more that he hadn’t uncovered it. He bites his lower lip, wonders what to do now. He just mixed the paints and now he can’t use them. With another sigh, he sets the palette on the table and slides off his stool. He glances at Akanishi, the other not even noticing his movements, and smirks. Quietly he sneaks around the table and the peers over Akanishi’s shoulder.
“What’re you drawing?” he asks and Akanishi jumps, nearly elbows Ueda in the stomach, and clutches his paper to his chest as Ueda falls into laughter.
“You can’t see yet!” he exclaims.
Ueda frowns. “Oh, come on,” he taunts. “You’ve been working so diligently. I want to see.”
Akanishi shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “Not until I see something of yours.”
Ueda should have seen that coming. He groans. “In that case,” he says, “never mind.”
Akanishi gasps. “You’re supposed to say yes!” he complains. “Why don’t you want me to see your work anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Ueda answers, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s embarrassing.”
“But you’re an artist,” Akanishi says, like Ueda doesn’t know. “Don’t you have exhibitions or galleries dedicated to your awesomeness?”
“Well, yeah, but-” Ueda starts but Akanishi cuts across him quickly, “Then what’s the problem?”
Ueda fidgets nervously, wonders what to do; his best work was already in a gallery in the city, and everything else he has started recently has featured Akanishi. He can’t take a chance showing him those; he wants to keep that secret with him to the grave. But Akanishi continues to stare at him with expectant eyes and Ueda makes the mistake of glancing toward the covered painting in the back. He looks at Akanishi again quickly, but it’s too late - Akanishi notices. He grins slowly, makes a dash toward the painting.
“Is this one of yours?” he questions, reaching for the covering.
“No,” Ueda lies, but it’s obvious and Akanishi knows it, and Ueda can’t stop him from pulling the cloth off and letting it flutter to the ground.
Ueda stares fixedly at the floor in the next few moments of prolonged silence. A million things run through his head regarding Akanishi’s possible reaction: anger, irritation, and hatred. He wrings his hands together over and over, not even daring a glance up, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. And then -
“Is that…me?” Akanishi asks and Ueda sneaks a peek up at him. He’s still staring at the canvas, the pencil drawing of himself, but his eyes are soft, contemplative, and Ueda feels just a bit more at ease.
“Yes,” he mutters eventually, feeling his throat dry from anxiety.
There’s more silence and Ueda’s heartbeat counts down the seconds, one after another, rapidly thudding in his chest. He’s not sure what he’s expecting Akanishi to say, but he wants to know something, and the longer he keeps quiet the more Ueda feels like running into the back room and hiding under his desk.
Just as that thought becomes more and more appealing, Akanishi steps back from the painting and says firmly, “I like it.”
Ueda blinks. “Huh?”
Akanishi turns to him, finally, and instead of looking upset, he’s smiling. “I said I like it,” he replies. “When did you do this? Do you have more? Is that what you draw when you’re at the park?”
Ueda’s eyes widen from the influx of questions, having not expected this reaction at all. “You’re not mad?” he blurts out, then claps a hand over his mouth in horror.
Akanishi only laughs. “Why would I be?”
“B-Because I’ve been drawing you for-for weeks,” Ueda says, the truth just spilling out. “I didn’t ask if it was okay, or-”
“Then I’ll tell you right now,” Akanishi says, stepping up to Ueda and peering into his eyes. “It’s okay.”
Ueda stares at him uncertainly so Akanishi adds, “It’s cool! No one’s ever painted me before.” He moves back to the easel and adds, “You are going to paint it, right?”
Perplexed, Ueda nods slowly. “Yeah, t-that’s what I was planning to do today.”
“So cool!” Akanishi exclaims. “Can I watch?”
“A-Are you really okay with it?” Ueda questions, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach not disappearing.
Akanishi turns to him again, puts his hands on Ueda’s shoulders and shakes him a little. “More that okay,” he replies. “It makes me happy that you think I’m attractive enough to draw.” He winks and pulls back and Ueda flushes.
“W-Who said anything about being attractive?” he mutters haughtily but Akanishi smirks.
He wraps an arm around Ueda’s shoulders and leans in close to his side, unaware of how Ueda tenses. “Why else would you use me as a model?” he ponders out loud, then grins down at Ueda who can’t help but look up at him. “You think I’m hot, don’t you?”
His tone is teasing, the question rhetorical, and Ueda knows this but yet the words form in the back of his mind and find themselves on the tip of his tongue before he can stop them, and they fall out in a quiet whisper of honesty: “No,” he says, “I think you’re beautiful.”
Akanishi’s reaction is almost instant, eyes widening and a furious blush crossing over his cheeks and he pulls away, shoving Ueda lightly. He rubs the bridge of his nose, the back of his neck, looks at the floor. Ueda feels uncomfortable as well, can’t believe he just said that, and can’t bring himself to apologize; he’d meant it, even though he knows he shouldn’t have said it. The air is thick between them now, and for a few long moments neither says a word. Ueda tries to think of what could salvage this situation; he doesn’t want anything to be weird between them, but everything he thinks of sounds ridiculous.
Then, Akanishi says, voice quiet and still staring at the floor, “I-I should go.”
Ueda’s heart drops straight to his knees. His mind goes momentarily blank and he forgets to stop him, just watches as Akanishi slowly heads to the door, hesitates in opening it, and Ueda should have seized that moment, but he doesn’t, and Akanishi’s gone.
In the next second Ueda snaps out of his stupor and runs after him, yanking the door open and gazing around the street. Akanishi’s just a down the sidewalk and Ueda calls, “Wait!” before he turns the corner.
Akanishi freezes and slowly turns around, looking surprised that Ueda’s running toward him. “W-What?” he asks, still decidedly embarrassed, but Ueda doesn’t miss the hopeful look in his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry,” he says, “for what I said.” He looks at the ground, realizes he’s barefoot, the sidewalk rough under his feet. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
Akanishi nods a little. “Don’t worry about it,” he mutters.
“But,” Ueda continues quickly, eager to diminish this awkwardness between them in the only way he knows how. “It doesn’t make it any less true.”
Now Akanishi blushes deeply and looks away again, and Ueda’s entire body heats up pleasantly, deciding he enjoys seeing Akanishi like this, so different from his usual cheerful, energetic attitude. He smiles and adds, “I want to ask you something.”
When Akanishi finally meets his gaze, Ueda bites his lower lip, clenches his hands into fists and asks before he looses his nerve, something he’s wanted to ask Akanishi for weeks, ever since the first day he met him, but never had the spirit, had instead resorted to sneakily drawing him whenever he could, “I want you to model for me.”
* * *
Akanishi comes in two days later for the first modeling session. Ueda’s practically sick to his stomach from worry, even breaking out a beer to calm his nerves.
“You must really love this guy,” Kame remarks from where he’s taken a seat at one of the tables, ready for the show. “You never drink.”
“Love?” Ueda squeaks. “I-I don’t love him.”
Kame raises a perfect eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he says disbelievingly and Ueda throws a paint brush at him just as the door opens and Akanishi strolls in with all smiles and untamable excitement. He stares wide-eyed around the studio that Ueda has reorganized. An easel is propped up facing a small red loveseat he’d made Kame help pull out from the back. A table beside the easel holds his sketchbook, pencils, and paints.
“This is so cool,” Akanishi breathes with awe, eyes bright, and Ueda can’t help but smile.
“I give him four days,” Kame inputs from the side.
Akanishi blinks with confusion at him while Ueda smirks. “What’re you talking about?” Akanishi asks.
Kame slides off his stool, stands by Ueda’s side. “You’ve never modeled before, have you?”
Akanishi shakes his head. “No…”
Kame snorts. “I take it back. I give him two,” he says and Ueda laughs, shoves Kame playfully. “Have fun,” Kame adds with a hint of sarcasm, twiddles his fingers in a wave as he disappears into the back.
When the door closes after him, Akanishi demands, “What the hell is he talking about?”
Ueda laughs again. “Modeling sounds like fun, but it’s not that easy. He doesn’t think you can handle it.” When Akanishi opens his mouth indignantly Ueda adds, “He would know, he used to be one.”
Akanishi puts his lips together in a tight frown. Ueda smiles, continues, “He was a fashion model for the famous photographer Kato Shigeaki, if you’ve heard of him. That’s where Kame learned his photography skills. He gave up modeling, and that’s how I found him, in an amateur magazine.”
“Is that how you two came to run this place?”
“I’d wanted to have my own studio for a while, so I contacted Kame to see if he was interested. More people these days enjoy photography more than art, so I knew it’d be a good investment. He agreed and we got this place set up a few years ago.”
Akanishi looks impressed. “Your story is so much more interesting than mine,” he says wistfully and Ueda grins. “This modeling thing is the most interesting thing that’s happened lately.” He pauses, then looks up to meet Ueda’s gaze. With a smirk, he adds, “Well, other than meeting you.”
Sparks of pleasure ignite in Ueda’s heart and he flushes intensely, laughs. “I suppose I could say the same about you.”
Akanishi grins with satisfaction but then Ueda’s words seem to register in his mind, his face dropping as he says, “Wait, you suppose?”
Ueda smirks and replies instead, “Sit over there, on the couch.”
Akanishi fake-glares at him for a moment then does as he’s told. He stares at Ueda for a moment before his eyes widen. “I-I don’t have to be naked, do I?” he questions.
Ueda almost drops a can of paint onto the floor. “No!” he exclaims, vigorously shaking his head. “N-Nothing like that.” Even as he says it, the appeal is now very great, lingering in the back of Ueda’s mind.
“Oh, good,” Akanishi sighs with relief. “That may have been weird.”
“Oh, yeah. Since we’re not quite there yet,” Ueda teases and Akanishi lets out a brilliant laugh.
* * *
Ueda leans against the trunk of the tree, legs stretched out before him and his sketchbook in his lap. The day is bright and sunny, light shining through between the leaves and dancing across the pages of his book. He looks up and smiles at Akanishi who’s practicing soccer on his own, doing some drills and kicks, then lifts his pencil, presses the tip to the paper, and begins to draw.
Akanishi made it three days. The first day Akanishi had done rather well, more excited by the whole situation than anything else, but after the first few hours he started quieting down. The second day he’d actually fallen asleep, and the third he whined through the whole session. But Akanishi still felt accomplished for at least beating Kame’s expectations of him, even though Kame had only rolled his eyes and said, “Three days is still not that great,” but Akanishi pretended not to hear him, clearly astounded by himself for making it so long in the first place.
“Sorry,” Akanishi had told Ueda, looking dejected, “but I just can’t sit there like that for so long.”
Ueda smirked. “I know,” he’d said. “I didn’t really expect it to last long. Hell, I didn’t expect you to agree to it at all, so it’s okay.”
But Akanishi had still felt guilty and it was his idea to work outside, instead. Ueda had readily agreed because in all honesty, watching Akanishi kick around a ball with the sun in his face is much more inspiring than the Akanishi that sits silently on a couch, cooped up inside.
He’s too free, Ueda thinks as he draws. He can’t be contained like that and he should’ve realized so earlier. But either way, how everything is working out now is better. It’s been a few days since their last failed session and Akanishi manages to give Ueda a few hours of his day. They both like it better this way, especially Ueda who now really has an excuse to just watch and be with Akanishi at least for awhile everyday, though he’d never admit that to anyone; Kame would never let him live it down.
Ueda’s halfway through a drawing when Akanishi suddenly kicks the ball lightly over to him and follows, plopping down onto the grass on his back, his head by Ueda’s outstretched feet. His eyes fall shut and his hair falls into his face and he breaths slowly through parted lips. Ueda stares, memorizing the image into his mind as he flips to a new page and starts drawing again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
He doesn’t say a word, just lies there, seemingly unaware of Ueda’s eyes on him, of how Ueda is drawing him. Ueda wonders if he’s sleeping, but then Akanishi moves, turning onto his side, eyes opening and finding Ueda’s gaze immediately. Ueda flushes and drops his eyes, says quietly, “C-Can you go back to how you were lying before?”
Akanishi blinks, leans up and looks upside down at the sketch Ueda has started. Then he glances up at Ueda who is subconsciously sucking on his lower lip, watching Akanishi carefully. And before Ueda even knows what has happened, Akanishi is closing the inches between them and pressing their mouths together in a gentle, ephemeral kiss. The world around Ueda seems to stop for that moment, nothing else more important that the feeling of Akanishi’s lips warm and smooth against his, and the way his long hair tickles Ueda’s cheeks. Akanishi reaches up a hand to fit against the back of Ueda’s neck, his touch white-hot against Ueda’s skin and making Ueda’s entire body tingle with indescribable pleasure.
When Akanishi pulls away it’s with a smirk and Ueda feels hopelessly breathless, eyes wide as he stares into Akanishi’s beautiful face and tries to catch his runaway heart. Then Akanishi laughs and the spell is broken, the rush of the wind and the cheers of children from the playground filling Ueda’s ears and effectively calming him down. Akanishi’s laugh isn’t mocking or humiliating, just soft and nice to listen to, making Ueda smile in return, his heart swelling with something he can only identify as love.
He wonders if he should say it, tell Akanishi about that feeling that grows inside of him every time they meet, but Ueda’s never been really good at words; everything he needs to express he does through his art. And that’s when he figures it out, a little missing puzzle piece fitting clicking into place, and he jumps up to his feet, startling Akanishi by nearly toppling him over.
“W-Where are you going?” he exclaims, sounding just a little panicked, and Ueda smiles at him as he quickly shoves his things into his bag and swings it over his shoulder.
“Come by the studio tomorrow,” Ueda says, while Akanishi just stares at him with confusion. “Around three. I have something I want you to see.”
“Why not now?” Akanishi says, scrambling to his feet.
“Because it’s not done yet,” Ueda replies and then offers him a small wave before running back to the studio. He has a lot of work to get done.
* * *
“I-I think you should have it. I want you to have it,” Ueda says nervously, gesturing to the painting of Akanishi that he had started long ago and only just finished earlier that day. His hands are still stained with paint, and his bangs are pulled up from his face with a pink hair-tie. He stares at Akanishi unblinkingly, who is staring at the canvas, at the painted version of himself, at the reds and blues and greens that combine together into what Ueda thinks is one of his most favorite works, though that might just be because of who is in it than anything else.
Akanishi is silent for a long time that Ueda can practically feel his heart dropping lower and lower, and he rushes to say, “I-I mean, you don’t have to, of course. I just thought that-”
“No, no,” Akanishi cuts in, his voice soft with awe. He turns to Ueda and says earnestly, “I want it.”
Ueda sighs with relief and smiles widely. Akanishi looks back at the painting and asks, “But are you sure?”
Ueda nods quickly. “Absolutely,” he says eagerly. “Think of it like a kind of t-thank you, for letting me draw you so much.”
Akanishi laughs. “I told you I don’t care about that,” he says, and then his eyes widen. “Does giving me this painting mean you don’t need to draw me anymore?”
“Well, I do have enough sketches of you to last a lifetime,” Ueda replies, but then shakes his head. “That wasn’t my intention. But i-if you want me to stop, then-”
“I-I don’t!” Akanishi exclaims. “I-I kind of like it.” He blushes and drops his eyes to the floor and Ueda’s heart starts to beat loudly in his chest when he looks up after a few moments. “Uhm, a-about yesterday,” he starts awkwardly, “T-That was probably out of line, I-”
Ueda surprises himself by taking the initiative this time, stepping up to Akanishi and cutting off his words with his lips. He sees Akanishi’s eyes go wide for a second before they fall close in time with his own, and Akanishi pulls Ueda closer, arms around his waist and deepening the kiss. Ueda smiles against his mouth, feeling slightly light-headed, light-hearted, like nothing in the world could ruin his moment. It’s even better than the last time because there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty, just the two of them saying everything they can’t in words because they’re both a little useless at that. Akanishi may not have understood Ueda’s true intentions by giving him the painting but he sure as hell understands this, the way Ueda threads his fingers into his hair, and tilts his head, meets Akanishi’s tongue with his own.
Ueda breaks away first, gasping for breath while Akanishi stares at him dazedly. Ueda laughs, and says, “Sorry, I got paint in your hair.” He shows Akanishi his painted hands, and Akanishi grins.
“I guess I’ll have to get used to that,” he remarks, slowly smirking.
Ueda smiles. “I suppose you will.”
From: tatoeba
Title: Impressionism
Pairings/Characters: Akanishi Jin/Ueda Tatsuya, with some Kamenashi, Nakamaru and Nishikido
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. 9479 words.
Notes: For pipsqueaks, I’m really happy I got to write for you, and I really, really hope that you’ll enjoy this fic. :3 Also thanks so much to L for the handholding and inspiration, and A for the beta. The title refers to the type of art during the Impressionism art movement. This fic is also very loosely inspired by the manga MARS by Soryo Fuyumi.
Summary: After just one glance, Ueda thinks he’s found the perfect model.
He’s the tall, broad-shouldered soccer player with his hair pulled up in a messy ponytail and the number four printed across the back of his jersey. He’s loud, boisterous, and clearly the make-shift captain of this group of young men playing soccer in the park.
Ueda looks down at his lap, the sketchbook page now almost completely full of drawings of this man. He hears loud cheering and looks up in time to see Number Four - as Ueda has grown accustomed to calling him - weave around one of his friends and kick the ball into the goal. A smile crosses Ueda’s face as he watches the man grin and laugh and get tackled by his two teammates. They’ve won the game today.
Ueda closes his book and slips his charcoal pencils back into their case and puts both into his messenger bag. There’s no reason to stick around now when the game is done. As he stands up from the bench he was occupying, he feels something hit his feet. Glancing down he finds the soccer ball and almost instantaneously hears a voice call out, “Sorry! Can you grab that?”
Ueda does as he’s told and turns to find none other than player number four jogging over to meet him. Ueda nearly drops the ball again, but thankfully the man is there to take it before he can.
“Thanks!” he says and flashes Ueda a bright grin, the same one he sported not five minutes ago as he made the winning goal. And Ueda can only nod slightly before he’s gone, joining his group of five other friends.
He watches them for an extra moment, until they turn their backs on him and walk away. Ueda sighs and goes in the opposite direction, heading back to his studio. He’s nearly ambushed the instant he steps inside, his friend and colleague dragging him in and screaming, “Where have you been? You have a class starting in ten minutes!”
Ueda just rolls his eyes and snakes his arm out of Kame’s grip, turning to the younger man with exasperation. “It’s fine, I’m here, aren’t I?” he says, heading into the back office and dumping his bag onto his desk. “What’re you so freaked out about?”
Kame deflates a little, leaning back against a side of the doorway. He crosses his arms over his chest and says instead of answering Ueda’s question, “Where were you?”
“Nowhere particular,” Ueda answers, busy taking his pencils and sketchbook out from his bag.
This proves to be an instant mistake however as Kame lunges for the latter, snatching it from Ueda’s hands and flipping to the last used page. Kame sighs as he sees the sketches of Number Four just before Ueda takes the book back with a glare.
“You were stalking him again?”
“I’m not stalking anyone,” Ueda snaps. “He just happened to be in the park when I was there.”
Kame makes a noise of disbelief. “This is like the tenth time you’ve been over there creepily sketching him in the past few weeks,” he informs, like Ueda doesn’t already know. “What’s so great about him?”
“He makes for an interesting subject, that’s all,” Ueda says. “You should get that.”
“I do,” Kame says, follows Ueda out of the room as he leaves to start setting up for his afternoon painting class. “I just think it’s boring. The same person over and over again.”
“Fine, if it bothers you that much next time I’ll sketch you,” Ueda suggests with a grin.
Kame laughs. “I’m not bothered by it. I just think it’s weird. You don’t know him.”
Ueda smirks. “Sounds like you’re jealous, Kame.”
Kame makes his unimpressed face at him and Ueda laughs. “Come on,” Ueda says, pats Kame on the back as he passes him, “help me move these easels for class.”
* * *
Despite Kame’s disapproval, Ueda’s back at the park the next day, occupying his usual bench that happens to overlook both the playground and the open field. He’s working on a piece of a mother and child, staring off towards the swing-set but glancing every once in awhile toward the field when he hears someone talking, a glimmer of hope bubbling in his chest only to be let down time and time again because it’s not who he’s hoping for.
So maybe it really is a little weird, Ueda muses as he works on the child’s small hand clutching desperately at his mother’s shirt, to be so focused on some guy he doesn’t know. But Ueda doesn’t really care; as an artist inspiration can be drawn from anywhere, anything, anyone - and right now, Number Four is what makes Ueda inspired.
The first time Ueda saw him was two weeks ago. He’d been in the park for fun, working on some landscape sketches when he had walked right into that field, pulling the blue jersey with the four printed across the back over his head and shouting towards his slower moving friends. Ueda was instantly enraptured by his lithe movements and his brilliant smile. Before he knew it, he had started sketching, his pencil moving in quick strokes across the rough paper, that smile vivid in the back of his mind even when Number Four had turned away, his brow now creased in concentration.
That day Ueda sat in the park for almost five hours, completing three pages of drawings of this man he didn’t even know until he packed up and left with his friends. And the next day Ueda returned to the park around the same time with his sketchbook and pencils and watched from the side as Number Four played another game with his friends. And then to avoid seeming like a creeper, he waited three days before going back.
Today marks the twelfth day Ueda has gone to see him at the park. So maybe he is stalking him. But it’s for his paintings, his art, his work so he doesn’t feel as bad about it as he probably should. Ueda doesn’t care what anyone thinks, anyway. It’s not like Number Four will ever find out Ueda was secretly using him as a model. It’s harmless, Ueda thinks, as he presses his charcoal pencil in smooth strokes across the paper, eyes glancing up every once in awhile to look at Number Four, his movements never ceasing.
He ends up stopping short that day as it begins to rain. Cursing, Ueda quickly shoves his things back into his bag and pulls his hood over his head. He glances back toward the filed, expecting the players to have left, but they’re till there, and Number Four has the ball, grinning and laughing despite the downpour of the rain pelting him. Ueda watches mesmerized, as Number Four swerves and passes and gets the ball back, running across the field in flawless motion. He kicks at the goal, he scores, and Ueda lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He watches as Number Four cheers, louder than the torrential rain, loud enough that Ueda can hear the beautiful sound resonate within his heart, spreading warmth straight throughout his whole body. He smiles as Number Four gets tackled by his friends, and then turns and heads back to the studio.
* * *
“Why are you bringing me?” Kame complains.
“Because you’re the better photographer and I want some stills.”
“I don’t want to be involved in your stalking.”
“It’s not stalking!”
“Then why are we hiding behind this tree?” Kame arches an eyebrow.
Ueda flushes. “Shut up.”
Kame stares at him and Ueda gives him big, pleading eyes. He sighs. “Fine, fine,” Kame says, “but you owe me.”
“Whatever you want,” Ueda says, beaming.
Kame sighs and heads out, walking aimlessly around the park, but Ueda see him stopping occasionally to take pictures near where Number Four and his friends are playing again. Ueda leans against the tree, his new hideaway - where he can watch perfectly but be out of clear view. He pulls out his sketchpad and starts a few drawings of his secret-model.
He doesn’t get very far before someone shouts “Look out!” and Ueda glances up in time to see a soccer ball whirling towards his head. He kicks out of the way, hears the ball whish past him followed by a “Fuck!” and the rush of feet. When he looks up again Number Four is running at him. In the distance he sees Kame, eyes concerned, but Ueda just shakes his head a fraction to each side and Kame turns away.
“I’m sorry!” Number Four says when he reaches Ueda.
“I-It’s okay,” Ueda replies easily, trying not to stare at the way the man’s long hair falls in curls around his face.
Number Four blinks at him. “Oh! You were here that other day when we kicked the ball off the field. I thought you seemed familiar.”
Ueda’s stomach flip-flops from being recognized. “Uh, yeah, that was me.”
Number Four laughs. “You’re just always in the way, aren’t you?”
“Or maybe you’re just disrupting my peace and quiet because you can’t play properly,” Ueda returns and Number Four smirks.
“Oh, really?” he says. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”
Ueda’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No-No, that’s okay, I should-”
He gets cut off by a sudden shout of “Akanishi!” They turn toward the field where one of Number Four’s friends is standing looking annoyed.
“Stop flirting and get back here!”
Number Four - Akanishi - Ueda corrects in his head, laughs and looks slightly embarrassed and only then does Ueda realize what his friend had said. He flushes as well, glances away.
“Sorry about him,” Akanishi says. “He’s annoyed because he’s losing.”
Ueda looks back over and notices the angry look in the man’s eyes. “Better go and win then,” Ueda says and Akanishi smiles that beautiful smile of his and gives Ueda a short nod because rushing off to join his friends. Ueda watches him shove his angry friend before quickly re-starting the game in his distraction and laughs as another “Akanishi!” rips through the air.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Kame says, appearing beside Ueda and startling him.
Ueda tries not to blush and pointedly does not meet Kame’s eyes. He packs up his things and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kame merely rolls his eyes and Ueda gives him a short glare before leading the way out of the park.
* * *
Ueda stares at his half-sketched drawing and frowns. He glances up, around the park, and frowns even deeper as he can’t see Akanishi anywhere. He’s been here for two hours and neither Akanishi nor his friends have arrived yet and it’s well past their usual time. He sighs, figures it’s impossible for them to be here everyday. Gloomily, Ueda decides to just finish this drawing and then return home as he can’t spend the entire day here waiting and waiting and waiting - even he knows that’s pushing it.
“That’s really good! Can you draw me?” says a familiar voice suddenly over Ueda’s shoulder and he nearly jumps a foot in the air.
When he turns around he finds Akanishi leaning over the back of the park bench. He grins, eyes bright behind his bangs, and Ueda feels his breath catch in his throat.
“Hi,” he says.
“H-Hi,” Ueda replies. “Y-You surprised me.”
Akanishi chuckles and walks around, sits beside Ueda, leans back with complete nonchalance.
“So you’re an artist?” Akanishi says, nodding toward Ueda’s sketchbook.
Ueda quickly slams the book shut, holds it to his chest. He nods a little. “Yes,” he says.
“Is that what you’re always doing here? You’re drawing?” Akanishi asks. “I’ve been wondering.”
Ueda nods again. “I just find being here very…inspiring,” he says, meets Akanishi’s eyes for a brief moment and then looks away. Ueda tries not to look back at him too much, uncertain what to do now - it’s the first time Ueda’s seen him in street clothes. He’s in jeans that are ripped and faded at the knees, a white t-shirt with an obscene woman printed on the front under a black, sharp blazer. He has a white and blue baseball cap over his head, hair pulled up through the back.
“What’re you all dressed up for?” Ueda finds himself asking against his better judgment.
Akanishi smirks, smoothes down his blazer against his chest. “I’m going on a date.”
Ueda’s stomach traitorously sinks to his knees. “How cute,” he manages to snide and Akanishi nudges him in the ribs.
“Very funny,” he says.
Ueda offers him a grin, but it slowly falls as he looks away again. Suddenly his mood has soured and he’s packing up his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder as he gets to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Akanishi questions instantly.
“I-I have a class to teach soon so I need to go back,” Ueda lies, hopes Akanishi won’t see through him.
“You teach?”
Ueda nods. “At the small studio down the street.” He smiles. “See you later.” He waves slightly as he heads off, his smile slowly morphing into a frown. Just before he leaves the park, he glances back over his shoulder and feels his heart fall at the sight of a young, nicely dressed woman running up to Akanishi, at the sight of him pulling her into a hug.
Ueda sighs, turns around and heads home.
* * *
“I still think it’s creepy,” Kame says over Ueda’s shoulder, “but that’s turned out really well.”
Ueda bites his lower lip nervously and leans back to look over his newest work. He’s taken one of his many sketches of Akanishi from the park and has drawn it again onto a larger canvas with the plans of painting it soon. This particular sketch is one of his favorites: Akanishi has just made a winning goal, his face bright with that beautiful smile of his that makes Ueda’s knees week and his arms up in the air as he stares at the goal, at the goalie lunging towards the ball that whishes over his head and into the net behind him.
“Thanks,” Ueda says to Kame, flashing him a smile over his shoulder.
“You haven’t been down there in a few days.”
“How do you know that?”
Kame shrugs, returns to packing up the easels left out from his earlier class. “So it’s true? How come?”
Now Ueda shrugs. “I have what I need now, so I don’t have to go there all the time.”
“You mean this was really for work?” Kame gasps mockingly. “You didn’t have a creeper crush on that guy?”
Ueda rolls his eyes and ignores him, biting his lip again as he remembers what happened the last time he was there. He shakes his head with annoyance; he’s told himself to forget about that. He hasn’t told Kame about that time, and he’s not avoiding the park. He could go there if he wanted; he has no one to hide from. It’s not like cares about Akanishi that much to avoid him over something so stupid.
Ueda frowns as he stares at his canvas, at the sketch of Akanishi’s smiling face and slowly his eyes narrow into a glare.
“You tell that canvas,” Kame says as he passes by, patting Ueda on the shoulder, and hiding his laughter. Ueda glares at his back as he disappears into the back room and returns a few minutes later. Kame just laughs. “You’re not fooling anyone. If you want to see him, just go back. Didn’t stop you before.”
“Shut up,” Ueda mutters, looking away. “I didn’t say I wanted to see him.”
Kame shrugs. “Fine with me.”
“I’ll prove it. I’ll make it this whole week without going back there.”
Kame grins. “Great. Let’s make it a bet. Twenty dollars saying you’ll be back there before the week is over.”
Ueda nods confidently and holds out a hand. Kame takes it with a smirk and they shake on it.
* * *
He only makes it two days. Then he’s back at the park, at his usual bench, sitting cross-legged with his sandals upon the ground beneath him. His sketchbook is open on his lap, his pencil poised between his fingers, occasionally he bites on the eraser end, staring off around the area because, as luck would have it, he gave in on his bet on a day when Akanishi isn’t even there.
Ueda sighs. He’s not even sure what it is that propelled him to end up here this afternoon instead of working on his painting that’s half-finished, leaning against an easel in one of the back rooms. That’s what he should be doing, instead of creeping in the park, instead of having to cough up twenty dollars when he returns later and put up with Kame’s smug face for months to come.
He can’t deny that there’s just something about Akanishi that really gets to him. He wants to know more, wants to just watch him, look at him, talk to him. Wants him to think about Ueda just as much as Ueda thinks about him. It’s insane, he knows it, because they’ve only interacted three times and they’re not even friends, they haven’t even properly introduced themselves to each other. For all he knows, Akanishi thinks of him as the oddball artist who slums around the park every waking moment.
Ueda’s shoulders slump forward at the thought. He sighs again and is just thinking of packing up when a familiar voice shouts, “Hey!” in his direction.
Ueda looks up instantly, straightening up in his seat at the sight of Akanishi running toward him. He’s in his soccer uniform with his hair pulled up as usual. Ueda tries to ignore the hammering of his heart as he gets to his feet and meets him.
“You’re here!” Akanishi says excitedly, looking pleased. “You haven’t been around the past couple of days. I was worried.”
Ueda’s skin tingles and he forces himself not to blush. “I-I just got busy w-with work, and stuff,” he lies, completely perplexed that Akanishi would even care that much, that he’d even noticed Ueda’s absence at all.
“I was going to ask you about that,” Akanishi says and when Ueda looks at him blankly, he elaborates, “I wanted to see what you’ve drawn.”
“I-I-I don’t know about that,” Ueda stammers immediately. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away, and when Akanishi pouts at him and asks why, answers, “I-I don’t think it’s all that great. You probably won’t be interested.”
Akanishi laughs. “But I’m the one asking to see it, aren’t I?” he returns. “Come on, you must be somewhat decent if you have your own studio and teach classes.”
Ueda flushes despite himself. “Yeah, but-”
“Then it’s settled!” Akanishi interrupts. “I’ll stop by sometime. You can show me what you do.” He grins. “Maybe I’ll even sign up for a class.”
Ueda just blinks at him, blown away by Akanishi’s playful assertiveness. And before he can agree or disagree, Akanishi’s waving at him and rushing off towards the soccer field where his usual friends are gathered. Ueda stands transfixed to the spot for a whole minute, staring off into space, before he shakes his head, suppressing a smile. He sits back down on the bench with his legs crossed again, and turns to watch Akanishi play. His heart instantly warms at the sight and he thinks it’s worth paying Kame twenty dollars to never have to miss this.
* * *
He has no idea when Akanishi’s planning on stopping by, but he doesn’t want to risk it. So he hides all of his sketchbooks and paintings that have so much as a soccer ball drawn on them, let alone Akanishi himself.
Kame disapproves of the whole thing, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest, as Ueda shoved his sketchbooks into an old box and slid it under his desk. But Ueda knows it’s just because Kame wanted to see Akanishi’s reaction to Ueda’s creeper stalking, and not because he thought Ueda was doing the wrong thing.
Ueda ends up fretting about Akanishi stopping by the studio unannounced that he doesn’t ever leave it, except for when he goes home at night. He also doesn’t want to risk the chance of being elsewhere and returning to find Akanishi has met Kame and Kame has spilt every one of Ueda’s deep dark secrets. So he actually gets some decent work done; he still has his daily classes for painting and drawing and then together with Kame helps clean out the studio which hasn’t been done for months.
And this is what he’s doing when Akanishi strolls in three days later, pushing sunglasses over his head and smiling brightly. He’s flanked by two other men that Ueda vaguely recognize as being Akanishi’s usual soccer buddies from the field, and just about smirks when he finds Ueda on his hands and knees with a towel wrapped around his head scrubbing viciously at a stain on the floor with a giant yellow sponge in his hand.
“Somehow,” Akanishi says to a speechless Ueda, “I had a different image in mind when I was planning on coming here.”
Ueda snaps out of his shock quickly and jumps to his feet, tosses the sponge into the bucket next to him. He laughs a little, says, “It’s not like I sit here and paint all day long.”
Akanishi grins. “I guess even famous artists have to clean, too.”
Ueda flushes. “I-I am not famous,” he mutters but Akanishi just grins wider. Ueda sighs and glances off to the side where Akanishi’s friends are standing, looking slightly perplexed.
“Oh!” Akanishi says, turning to them. “These are my friends.” He gestures to the shorter of the two, the one who looks like he’d much rather be anywhere but here and says, “Nishikido Ryo,” and then nods toward the other, says, “And this is Nakamaru Yuichi.” Nakamaru offers Ueda a smile and a wave and Ueda decides he likes him better.
“We’re going to go play in a little bit. That’s why they came with me,” Akanishi explains.
Nishikido snorts. “No,” he says, looking at Ueda, “we came with him because he’s too much of a wuss to come by himself.”
Akanishi shoves him. “Am not!”
“Yes, you are,” Nakamaru inputs with a smirk. “You practically begged us to come along.”
Ueda stares in awe as Akanishi actually blushes and looks anywhere but at him. “Shut up,” he mutters to Nakamaru which only has both of his friends laughing at him.
Before the conversation has a chance to continue, Kame walks into the room from the back, stopping when he finds Akanishi and his friends. He looks at Ueda, then back at Akanishi. He smirks. Ueda knows that look and jumps in before Kame says something incriminating. “This is my friend Kamenashi. We run this studio together.”
Kame nods at the other three and walks over to where Ueda’s standing. “Not bad,” he whispers into Ueda’s ear. “I can see why you’d like him.”
Ueda nudges him in the stomach with an elbow but Kame only laughs good-naturedly. “Aren’t you going to introduce them?” he asks and Ueda’s eyes widen because Kame knows he hasn’t properly met Akanishi yet. He’s definitely doing this on purpose.
At a loss, Ueda glances at Akanishi whose eyes widen as he realizes the same thing. Kame laughs again, clearly enjoying this situation at Ueda’s expense, and both Nishikido and Nakamaru seem to have figured out what’s happened.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve never actually introduced yourselves to each other?” Nishikido says, sounding just a bit pained.
Akanishi turns sheepish eyes onto him as Ueda flushes. Nishikido shakes his head and Nakamaru sighs. “Figures,” he says, and Akanishi pouts.
“Well,” Kame says. “What’re you waiting for?”
Ueda turns to Akanishi and tries not to hyperventilate when Akanishi meets his gaze and smiles his knee-weakening smile. “Sorry for taking so long,” he says, holding out a hand, “I’m Akanishi Jin.”
Ueda slowly returns his smile, grasps his hand and feels calloused, rough fingers and a surge of incredible warmth that instantly melts away his nervousness. “Ueda Tatsuya,” he answers, grinning wider. “Nice to meet you.”
* * *
Akanishi comes again the next day, alone this time, while Ueda's in the middle of a class. He smirks a bit when Ueda falters in his lesson, and stands against the back wall, arms crossed, watching Ueda with intent. Ueda feels his eyes on him as he teaches, quickly going through the assignment before letting the class work on their own.
Ueda joins Akanishi in the back, smiling as he approaches and says, “I didn’t think I’d see you here again so soon.”
Akanishi grins. “I told you I wanted to see your art,” he says. “I couldn’t yesterday since my friends dragged me away.”
“Who said I was going to show you my work anyway?” Ueda replies and smirks when Akanishi fake-pouts at him.
“Well, crush my dreams, why don’t you,” Akanishi whines and Ueda can’t help but laugh.
He stops abruptly when he realizes Akanishi is staring at him, the corner of his lips quirked up. Ueda’s insides flip around and around from the look, and his cheeks heat up. “W-What?” he questions, feeling just a bit unnerved.
Akanishi leans in close and Ueda’s first instinct is to take a step away. But Akanishi follows, smirking wider, and then reaches a hand out to Ueda’s forehead and wipes his thumb across the skin. He pulls away and beams with accomplishment, and says, “You had some paint there.”
Ueda blushes harder; he’s sure his cheeks are a fiery red now, and quickly diverts his gaze, laughing humorlessly. “The mark of an artist,” he says easily and holds up his paint-streaked hands. “See?”
Akanishi chuckles and rubs his painted thumb across Ueda’s palm. “Should’ve known,” he says, as Ueda feels his heart leap in his chest from the simple press of Akanishi’s skin on his.
Thankfully he’s saved from a reply as one of his students call out, “Ueda-sensei!” and effectively startles both him and Akanishi from their suddenly created world of two. Ueda gives Akanishi a sheepish smile and says, “I have to go back.”
Akanishi looks immensely put out; Ueda can almost see Akanishi deflate before him and feels just a bit of happiness soaring in his veins. Uncertain what else to say, Ueda turns to leave but Akanishi grabs his hand before he can get away and says quickly, his voice rushed, words coming out in a jumbled mess as if he’s nervous to get it out all at once, “T-There’s a match this weekend. A soccer match. Like a real one, but not. It’s just me and my friends, and some other guys from around the city. We’ll be playing in the park again. Three o’clock. Saturday. I-If you’re not busy, maybe you could c-come and watch.”
Ueda’s eyes widen in surprise; this is the last thing he ever expected. Shock mixes in with excitement and he can’t find his voice fast enough to agree. For just a sliver of a second, Akanishi looks devastated, taking Ueda’s silence as rejection, and hastily lets go of Ueda’s hand, laughs hollowly.
“I-If you don’t want to, I’d understand-”
“No! No, I want to,” Ueda jumps in loudly, and flushes when his voice startles Akanishi as well as some of his students. “I want to,” he repeats, quieter and firmly, and Akanishi stares at him for a long moment before his face splits into a wide, breath-taking grin.
“Great!” he exclaims, reminding Ueda of a little kid who has just been given a new toy. It has him grinning back, and waving goodbye as Akanishi says, “See you then!” and vanishes out the doors.
* * *
Ueda makes Kame come along with him, after several days of pleading and begging and promising to do clean up duty for the next week. In the end, it’s Kame who’s more excited about the whole thing and Ueda knows he fell completely for his friend’s trap. He doesn’t care too much, he’d rather clean everyday for the next week than go to this game alone, especially when he arrives and finds it a much bigger affair than any other game he’s seen Akanishi play before. There are a lot of people, the teams are bigger and there are actually onlookers - friends, or family members, Ueda guesses - sitting and standing along the sidelines.
“Let’s go back,” Ueda says to Kame instantly and Kame laughs.
“You are unbelievable,” Kame says. “You’re staying. I had to hear you whine about this game for three days. You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Ueda says. “Now let’s leave before-”
“Too late,” Kame snickers and points over Ueda’s shoulder where Akanishi is peering in their direction. Kame waves at him and Ueda elbows him in the gut, and Akanishi grins widely before jogging over to meet them. Kame pushes Ueda a little and Ueda manages a quick glare in his direction before turning in time to greet Akanishi with a smile.
“You came,” he says sounding a little surprised.
“I-I said I would,” Ueda answers easily, his voice more confident than he actually feels. Akanishi has his hair up again, a sloppy ponytail that ends in curls, and is wearing his usual soccer outfit. “Though I didn’t realize this was going to be such a big deal.”
“It just looks like it,” Akanishi dismisses easily. “We’re not real teams. Just some guys with nothing better to do.”
Ueda smiles, because he’s seen the way Akanishi plays; putting 110% into every play, every movement, every kick, pass, and shot. “Either way,” Ueda replies. “Good luck.”
Akanishi beams and says, “Have fun watching. Don’t leave when it’s done okay?” before he waves and rushes back to join his teammates.
Ueda just manages to nod after him, always so blown away by Akanishi’s carefree attitude. Then his words click into Ueda’s head and he grabs Kame by the arm and says, “What does he mean not to leave when it’s done?”
“Did he say that?” Kame asks as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping the whole time. “He wants you to wait until he comes to see you after the game. Maybe he’ll ask you out.” Kame mock-gasps and Ueda smacks him.
“Come on,” Ueda sighs. “Let’s find a place to sit.”
They find a place under a large tree to sit, just close enough to watch but far enough to not be in the way. Kame pulls out his camera and gets to work without a word. Ueda fingers the sketchbook in his messenger bag but doesn’t take it out. His eyes are trained across the field at Akanishi, on the number four printed on his jersey, the way the wind makes his hair bounce. His back is to Ueda as he and the rest of his team are huddled in a circle; Ueda doesn’t recognize most of them though he does see both Nakamaru and Nishikido standing the closest to Akanishi. A few moments later they cheer, loudly, and break apart, heading off into position, and Akanishi turns, scans the crowds before his eyes land right on Ueda, whose breath dies in his throat at that moment their gazes meet. Akanishi grins, pumps his fist into the air and cheers again, and his teammates all respond with shouts of various nuances, then takes his position as right forward.
Ueda sucks in a breath as the game starts and his eyes widen - this is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The difference between the games he’s seen Akanishi play in the beginning and the one he’s participating in now is astounding: the speed, the energy, the concentration. The white soccer ball becomes just a blur against the green grass, followed continuously by kicks and dribbles and passes of different colored cleats. His eyes focus solely on Akanishi - it’s clear he’s the team’s MVP - the way he controls the field with his movements, passes to his teammates, calls out names, directions, retrieves the ball and makes a complicated twist of his feet, spins around on opposing player and then he kicks, and the ball whooshes through the air, catches in the net.
Cheers erupt all around and Akanishi gets tackled by the teammates closest to him. Ueda watches with amazement, feeling rather breathless, butterflies in his stomach. The game continues in this fashion, exhilarating and thrilling, and Ueda’s eyes rarely leave Akanishi’s form. He subconsciously pulls out his sketchbook and pencils and begins to draw as he watches, his hand moving just as quickly as the game, partially sketched images covering page after page as new scenes cross his gaze. Akanishi’s team scores goal after goal after goal, owning the field, the ball, the game. The opposing team eventually catches up, but just after their one goal, Akanishi scores two.
The game is over before Ueda knows it; he’s watching as Akanishi clears half of the field while the seconds count down. He passes to Nishikido to get an opposing player off his back, and Nishikido gets in close to the goal before sending the ball back. The opposing team gets to it first, kicks it off toward the other end of the field, the ball flying above them - and Nakamaru is there, head-butting it back to Akanishi who jump-kicks it in time for the ball to whiz past the goalie’s outstretched grasp and meet the net. The screams are almost deafening as the crowds applaud, as Akanishi does a victory back-flip and nearly gets pummeled to the ground by his friends.
Ueda watches with a jaw-splitting smile, mesmerized by the look of triumph in Akanishi’s eyes, the glowing smile that seems to illuminate the entire field. The butterflies in his stomach flutter faster, relentless, and his skin tingles with a happiness he can’t even begin to describe. Then Akanishi escapes his friends’ clutches, turns and looks straight at him, and Ueda, who has been falling obliviously for days, weeks, finally hits the ground hard.
* * *
Ueda avoids the park for four days. On the fifth, Akanishi shows up at the studio, and Ueda curses himself mentally for ever telling the other he worked here. Especially when Akanishi makes sad, pouty eyes at him and asks, “You haven’t been avoiding me, have you? I haven’t seen you in days.”
Ueda stares fixedly at mixing paint colors onto a palette. “I’ve just been busy lately,” he answers.
“That was your answer last time,” Akanishi says and Ueda can hear the whine in his voice, can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. “What’re you working on?” Akanishi questions when Ueda doesn’t say anything.
“A painting.”
“Well, I could’ve figured that much out,” Akanishi replies and Ueda gives into a small laugh, glancing up finally to look at him. “Are you busy today?”
Ueda wants to lie, wants to say yes, that he’s got a class in ten minutes, that he has a lot of projects to work on, but something holds him back. The look in Akanishi’s eyes, honest and genuine, hopeful, and Ueda can’t find it in him to say no. He shakes his head, answers, “I’m not busy today. Just working on a few things.”
“Great!” Akanishi says. “I’ll join you.”
And before Ueda can ponder what this means, Akanishi’s pulled up a chair to the opposite side of the table he’s working at, glances around a bit and grabs a couple of blank sheets of paper Kame left stacked in the middle of the table, and then looks around again, up at Ueda, and smirks. He leans across the table, reaches a hand out and Ueda sucks in a breath as Akanishi picks out the pencil he has resting on his left ear.
Grinning, Akanishi sits back down and gets right to work. Ueda stares for a long moment, his heart beating twice as fast and unable to calm down, until Akanishi looks back up and says, “What?”
“W-What’re you doing?”
“Drawing,” Akanishi answers like it’s obvious, and then drops his gaze to the paper again.
“…Of course,” Ueda sighs under his breath, and focuses his attention on mixing his paints. At least he tries to, but every few seconds his concentration drifts over to Akanishi, watching him instead of working on what he should be doing. Akanishi doesn’t seem to notice Ueda’s furtive glances, too absorbed in his own drawing. He’s hunched over the table, scratching furiously with the pencil, stops and leans away, assesses his work, pouts, tapping the eraser end of the pencil to his lips. Then he goes back in, erasing something and drawing more, over and over in this fashion. Ueda stares with amusement, his lips curling into a smile. He’s not sure how else to describe it but cute, his heart warm from the sight.
He manages to get his paints mixed properly, but then realizes the painting he meant to work on is the one of Akanishi he started earlier. He glances to the back of the room where the easel with the painting in question sits, thankfully sheltered by red flowing fabric. Ueda sighs in relief, glad he hadn’t brought it over, even more that he hadn’t uncovered it. He bites his lower lip, wonders what to do now. He just mixed the paints and now he can’t use them. With another sigh, he sets the palette on the table and slides off his stool. He glances at Akanishi, the other not even noticing his movements, and smirks. Quietly he sneaks around the table and the peers over Akanishi’s shoulder.
“What’re you drawing?” he asks and Akanishi jumps, nearly elbows Ueda in the stomach, and clutches his paper to his chest as Ueda falls into laughter.
“You can’t see yet!” he exclaims.
Ueda frowns. “Oh, come on,” he taunts. “You’ve been working so diligently. I want to see.”
Akanishi shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “Not until I see something of yours.”
Ueda should have seen that coming. He groans. “In that case,” he says, “never mind.”
Akanishi gasps. “You’re supposed to say yes!” he complains. “Why don’t you want me to see your work anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Ueda answers, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s embarrassing.”
“But you’re an artist,” Akanishi says, like Ueda doesn’t know. “Don’t you have exhibitions or galleries dedicated to your awesomeness?”
“Well, yeah, but-” Ueda starts but Akanishi cuts across him quickly, “Then what’s the problem?”
Ueda fidgets nervously, wonders what to do; his best work was already in a gallery in the city, and everything else he has started recently has featured Akanishi. He can’t take a chance showing him those; he wants to keep that secret with him to the grave. But Akanishi continues to stare at him with expectant eyes and Ueda makes the mistake of glancing toward the covered painting in the back. He looks at Akanishi again quickly, but it’s too late - Akanishi notices. He grins slowly, makes a dash toward the painting.
“Is this one of yours?” he questions, reaching for the covering.
“No,” Ueda lies, but it’s obvious and Akanishi knows it, and Ueda can’t stop him from pulling the cloth off and letting it flutter to the ground.
Ueda stares fixedly at the floor in the next few moments of prolonged silence. A million things run through his head regarding Akanishi’s possible reaction: anger, irritation, and hatred. He wrings his hands together over and over, not even daring a glance up, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. And then -
“Is that…me?” Akanishi asks and Ueda sneaks a peek up at him. He’s still staring at the canvas, the pencil drawing of himself, but his eyes are soft, contemplative, and Ueda feels just a bit more at ease.
“Yes,” he mutters eventually, feeling his throat dry from anxiety.
There’s more silence and Ueda’s heartbeat counts down the seconds, one after another, rapidly thudding in his chest. He’s not sure what he’s expecting Akanishi to say, but he wants to know something, and the longer he keeps quiet the more Ueda feels like running into the back room and hiding under his desk.
Just as that thought becomes more and more appealing, Akanishi steps back from the painting and says firmly, “I like it.”
Ueda blinks. “Huh?”
Akanishi turns to him, finally, and instead of looking upset, he’s smiling. “I said I like it,” he replies. “When did you do this? Do you have more? Is that what you draw when you’re at the park?”
Ueda’s eyes widen from the influx of questions, having not expected this reaction at all. “You’re not mad?” he blurts out, then claps a hand over his mouth in horror.
Akanishi only laughs. “Why would I be?”
“B-Because I’ve been drawing you for-for weeks,” Ueda says, the truth just spilling out. “I didn’t ask if it was okay, or-”
“Then I’ll tell you right now,” Akanishi says, stepping up to Ueda and peering into his eyes. “It’s okay.”
Ueda stares at him uncertainly so Akanishi adds, “It’s cool! No one’s ever painted me before.” He moves back to the easel and adds, “You are going to paint it, right?”
Perplexed, Ueda nods slowly. “Yeah, t-that’s what I was planning to do today.”
“So cool!” Akanishi exclaims. “Can I watch?”
“A-Are you really okay with it?” Ueda questions, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach not disappearing.
Akanishi turns to him again, puts his hands on Ueda’s shoulders and shakes him a little. “More that okay,” he replies. “It makes me happy that you think I’m attractive enough to draw.” He winks and pulls back and Ueda flushes.
“W-Who said anything about being attractive?” he mutters haughtily but Akanishi smirks.
He wraps an arm around Ueda’s shoulders and leans in close to his side, unaware of how Ueda tenses. “Why else would you use me as a model?” he ponders out loud, then grins down at Ueda who can’t help but look up at him. “You think I’m hot, don’t you?”
His tone is teasing, the question rhetorical, and Ueda knows this but yet the words form in the back of his mind and find themselves on the tip of his tongue before he can stop them, and they fall out in a quiet whisper of honesty: “No,” he says, “I think you’re beautiful.”
Akanishi’s reaction is almost instant, eyes widening and a furious blush crossing over his cheeks and he pulls away, shoving Ueda lightly. He rubs the bridge of his nose, the back of his neck, looks at the floor. Ueda feels uncomfortable as well, can’t believe he just said that, and can’t bring himself to apologize; he’d meant it, even though he knows he shouldn’t have said it. The air is thick between them now, and for a few long moments neither says a word. Ueda tries to think of what could salvage this situation; he doesn’t want anything to be weird between them, but everything he thinks of sounds ridiculous.
Then, Akanishi says, voice quiet and still staring at the floor, “I-I should go.”
Ueda’s heart drops straight to his knees. His mind goes momentarily blank and he forgets to stop him, just watches as Akanishi slowly heads to the door, hesitates in opening it, and Ueda should have seized that moment, but he doesn’t, and Akanishi’s gone.
In the next second Ueda snaps out of his stupor and runs after him, yanking the door open and gazing around the street. Akanishi’s just a down the sidewalk and Ueda calls, “Wait!” before he turns the corner.
Akanishi freezes and slowly turns around, looking surprised that Ueda’s running toward him. “W-What?” he asks, still decidedly embarrassed, but Ueda doesn’t miss the hopeful look in his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry,” he says, “for what I said.” He looks at the ground, realizes he’s barefoot, the sidewalk rough under his feet. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
Akanishi nods a little. “Don’t worry about it,” he mutters.
“But,” Ueda continues quickly, eager to diminish this awkwardness between them in the only way he knows how. “It doesn’t make it any less true.”
Now Akanishi blushes deeply and looks away again, and Ueda’s entire body heats up pleasantly, deciding he enjoys seeing Akanishi like this, so different from his usual cheerful, energetic attitude. He smiles and adds, “I want to ask you something.”
When Akanishi finally meets his gaze, Ueda bites his lower lip, clenches his hands into fists and asks before he looses his nerve, something he’s wanted to ask Akanishi for weeks, ever since the first day he met him, but never had the spirit, had instead resorted to sneakily drawing him whenever he could, “I want you to model for me.”
* * *
Akanishi comes in two days later for the first modeling session. Ueda’s practically sick to his stomach from worry, even breaking out a beer to calm his nerves.
“You must really love this guy,” Kame remarks from where he’s taken a seat at one of the tables, ready for the show. “You never drink.”
“Love?” Ueda squeaks. “I-I don’t love him.”
Kame raises a perfect eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he says disbelievingly and Ueda throws a paint brush at him just as the door opens and Akanishi strolls in with all smiles and untamable excitement. He stares wide-eyed around the studio that Ueda has reorganized. An easel is propped up facing a small red loveseat he’d made Kame help pull out from the back. A table beside the easel holds his sketchbook, pencils, and paints.
“This is so cool,” Akanishi breathes with awe, eyes bright, and Ueda can’t help but smile.
“I give him four days,” Kame inputs from the side.
Akanishi blinks with confusion at him while Ueda smirks. “What’re you talking about?” Akanishi asks.
Kame slides off his stool, stands by Ueda’s side. “You’ve never modeled before, have you?”
Akanishi shakes his head. “No…”
Kame snorts. “I take it back. I give him two,” he says and Ueda laughs, shoves Kame playfully. “Have fun,” Kame adds with a hint of sarcasm, twiddles his fingers in a wave as he disappears into the back.
When the door closes after him, Akanishi demands, “What the hell is he talking about?”
Ueda laughs again. “Modeling sounds like fun, but it’s not that easy. He doesn’t think you can handle it.” When Akanishi opens his mouth indignantly Ueda adds, “He would know, he used to be one.”
Akanishi puts his lips together in a tight frown. Ueda smiles, continues, “He was a fashion model for the famous photographer Kato Shigeaki, if you’ve heard of him. That’s where Kame learned his photography skills. He gave up modeling, and that’s how I found him, in an amateur magazine.”
“Is that how you two came to run this place?”
“I’d wanted to have my own studio for a while, so I contacted Kame to see if he was interested. More people these days enjoy photography more than art, so I knew it’d be a good investment. He agreed and we got this place set up a few years ago.”
Akanishi looks impressed. “Your story is so much more interesting than mine,” he says wistfully and Ueda grins. “This modeling thing is the most interesting thing that’s happened lately.” He pauses, then looks up to meet Ueda’s gaze. With a smirk, he adds, “Well, other than meeting you.”
Sparks of pleasure ignite in Ueda’s heart and he flushes intensely, laughs. “I suppose I could say the same about you.”
Akanishi grins with satisfaction but then Ueda’s words seem to register in his mind, his face dropping as he says, “Wait, you suppose?”
Ueda smirks and replies instead, “Sit over there, on the couch.”
Akanishi fake-glares at him for a moment then does as he’s told. He stares at Ueda for a moment before his eyes widen. “I-I don’t have to be naked, do I?” he questions.
Ueda almost drops a can of paint onto the floor. “No!” he exclaims, vigorously shaking his head. “N-Nothing like that.” Even as he says it, the appeal is now very great, lingering in the back of Ueda’s mind.
“Oh, good,” Akanishi sighs with relief. “That may have been weird.”
“Oh, yeah. Since we’re not quite there yet,” Ueda teases and Akanishi lets out a brilliant laugh.
* * *
Ueda leans against the trunk of the tree, legs stretched out before him and his sketchbook in his lap. The day is bright and sunny, light shining through between the leaves and dancing across the pages of his book. He looks up and smiles at Akanishi who’s practicing soccer on his own, doing some drills and kicks, then lifts his pencil, presses the tip to the paper, and begins to draw.
Akanishi made it three days. The first day Akanishi had done rather well, more excited by the whole situation than anything else, but after the first few hours he started quieting down. The second day he’d actually fallen asleep, and the third he whined through the whole session. But Akanishi still felt accomplished for at least beating Kame’s expectations of him, even though Kame had only rolled his eyes and said, “Three days is still not that great,” but Akanishi pretended not to hear him, clearly astounded by himself for making it so long in the first place.
“Sorry,” Akanishi had told Ueda, looking dejected, “but I just can’t sit there like that for so long.”
Ueda smirked. “I know,” he’d said. “I didn’t really expect it to last long. Hell, I didn’t expect you to agree to it at all, so it’s okay.”
But Akanishi had still felt guilty and it was his idea to work outside, instead. Ueda had readily agreed because in all honesty, watching Akanishi kick around a ball with the sun in his face is much more inspiring than the Akanishi that sits silently on a couch, cooped up inside.
He’s too free, Ueda thinks as he draws. He can’t be contained like that and he should’ve realized so earlier. But either way, how everything is working out now is better. It’s been a few days since their last failed session and Akanishi manages to give Ueda a few hours of his day. They both like it better this way, especially Ueda who now really has an excuse to just watch and be with Akanishi at least for awhile everyday, though he’d never admit that to anyone; Kame would never let him live it down.
Ueda’s halfway through a drawing when Akanishi suddenly kicks the ball lightly over to him and follows, plopping down onto the grass on his back, his head by Ueda’s outstretched feet. His eyes fall shut and his hair falls into his face and he breaths slowly through parted lips. Ueda stares, memorizing the image into his mind as he flips to a new page and starts drawing again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
He doesn’t say a word, just lies there, seemingly unaware of Ueda’s eyes on him, of how Ueda is drawing him. Ueda wonders if he’s sleeping, but then Akanishi moves, turning onto his side, eyes opening and finding Ueda’s gaze immediately. Ueda flushes and drops his eyes, says quietly, “C-Can you go back to how you were lying before?”
Akanishi blinks, leans up and looks upside down at the sketch Ueda has started. Then he glances up at Ueda who is subconsciously sucking on his lower lip, watching Akanishi carefully. And before Ueda even knows what has happened, Akanishi is closing the inches between them and pressing their mouths together in a gentle, ephemeral kiss. The world around Ueda seems to stop for that moment, nothing else more important that the feeling of Akanishi’s lips warm and smooth against his, and the way his long hair tickles Ueda’s cheeks. Akanishi reaches up a hand to fit against the back of Ueda’s neck, his touch white-hot against Ueda’s skin and making Ueda’s entire body tingle with indescribable pleasure.
When Akanishi pulls away it’s with a smirk and Ueda feels hopelessly breathless, eyes wide as he stares into Akanishi’s beautiful face and tries to catch his runaway heart. Then Akanishi laughs and the spell is broken, the rush of the wind and the cheers of children from the playground filling Ueda’s ears and effectively calming him down. Akanishi’s laugh isn’t mocking or humiliating, just soft and nice to listen to, making Ueda smile in return, his heart swelling with something he can only identify as love.
He wonders if he should say it, tell Akanishi about that feeling that grows inside of him every time they meet, but Ueda’s never been really good at words; everything he needs to express he does through his art. And that’s when he figures it out, a little missing puzzle piece fitting clicking into place, and he jumps up to his feet, startling Akanishi by nearly toppling him over.
“W-Where are you going?” he exclaims, sounding just a little panicked, and Ueda smiles at him as he quickly shoves his things into his bag and swings it over his shoulder.
“Come by the studio tomorrow,” Ueda says, while Akanishi just stares at him with confusion. “Around three. I have something I want you to see.”
“Why not now?” Akanishi says, scrambling to his feet.
“Because it’s not done yet,” Ueda replies and then offers him a small wave before running back to the studio. He has a lot of work to get done.
* * *
“I-I think you should have it. I want you to have it,” Ueda says nervously, gesturing to the painting of Akanishi that he had started long ago and only just finished earlier that day. His hands are still stained with paint, and his bangs are pulled up from his face with a pink hair-tie. He stares at Akanishi unblinkingly, who is staring at the canvas, at the painted version of himself, at the reds and blues and greens that combine together into what Ueda thinks is one of his most favorite works, though that might just be because of who is in it than anything else.
Akanishi is silent for a long time that Ueda can practically feel his heart dropping lower and lower, and he rushes to say, “I-I mean, you don’t have to, of course. I just thought that-”
“No, no,” Akanishi cuts in, his voice soft with awe. He turns to Ueda and says earnestly, “I want it.”
Ueda sighs with relief and smiles widely. Akanishi looks back at the painting and asks, “But are you sure?”
Ueda nods quickly. “Absolutely,” he says eagerly. “Think of it like a kind of t-thank you, for letting me draw you so much.”
Akanishi laughs. “I told you I don’t care about that,” he says, and then his eyes widen. “Does giving me this painting mean you don’t need to draw me anymore?”
“Well, I do have enough sketches of you to last a lifetime,” Ueda replies, but then shakes his head. “That wasn’t my intention. But i-if you want me to stop, then-”
“I-I don’t!” Akanishi exclaims. “I-I kind of like it.” He blushes and drops his eyes to the floor and Ueda’s heart starts to beat loudly in his chest when he looks up after a few moments. “Uhm, a-about yesterday,” he starts awkwardly, “T-That was probably out of line, I-”
Ueda surprises himself by taking the initiative this time, stepping up to Akanishi and cutting off his words with his lips. He sees Akanishi’s eyes go wide for a second before they fall close in time with his own, and Akanishi pulls Ueda closer, arms around his waist and deepening the kiss. Ueda smiles against his mouth, feeling slightly light-headed, light-hearted, like nothing in the world could ruin his moment. It’s even better than the last time because there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty, just the two of them saying everything they can’t in words because they’re both a little useless at that. Akanishi may not have understood Ueda’s true intentions by giving him the painting but he sure as hell understands this, the way Ueda threads his fingers into his hair, and tilts his head, meets Akanishi’s tongue with his own.
Ueda breaks away first, gasping for breath while Akanishi stares at him dazedly. Ueda laughs, and says, “Sorry, I got paint in your hair.” He shows Akanishi his painted hands, and Akanishi grins.
“I guess I’ll have to get used to that,” he remarks, slowly smirking.
Ueda smiles. “I suppose you will.”