Muse
Ohmiya. G. Fluff. Unbetaed.
“I don’t know,” Ohno sighed. “I just can’t- I can’t finish anything. The idea doesn’t come to me and everything I draw is just not pretty.”
Nino sighed as he bent down and picked yet another crumpled paper. He took a glimpse of it and he thought the drawing on it was good, even though he had no idea what it was. He smoothed the paper, putting it on the table along with the other half-finished sketches that he had found earlier, and decided to walk straight to Ohno who by then had ignored twelve messages from Nino.
Nino didn’t bother to check on their bedroom first because the trail of papers showed that Ohno was in his mini studio. The door was opened, and Nino could see Ohno on his desk, drawing while pouting.
Nino sighed again. As much as he loved that cute pout that Ohno was sporting, he didn’t really like the fact that Ohno was in one of his foul moods. He proceeded inside carefully, picking up papers while on it, and realized that most of the papers inside the studio weren’t crumpled and almost all of them was of him. Of Nino. Of his face or his back or his hands or his eyes.
“Where’s your phone?” Nino asked while stacking the papers next to Ohno. Nino caught a glimpse of what Ohno was drawing; Nino himself.
“Don’t know,” Ohno mumbled his answer. He didn’t stop drawing, didn’t stop pouting. With the set up around them, Ohno surely looked like a kindergartner throwing a tantrum.
“You made me worried,” Nino stated, not blaming. He continued tidying the room a bit and walked behind Ohno’s chair, hugging the man from behind. He inhaled Ohno’s scent then put his chin on Ohno’s shoulder. “What happened, hm?”
Ohno kept focusing on his drawing. He put so much focus on it, it almost looked like he was angry at it. His fingers continued working without hesitation, forming Nino’s jaw, Nino’s neck, Nino’s shoulder. The pencil moved so smoothly, like Ohno had remembered every line and curve of Nino’s body.
“Ohno san,” Nino tried calling again softly. “Hey,” he caught Ohno’s hand when Ohno gripped the pencil even more tightly and drew even more fiercely, like he was trying to break the pencil and burn a hole on the sketchbook.
Ohno resisted at first, but then he surrendered and dropped his pencil down. He inhaled a long breath, calming himself down, and then exhaled it while turning the chair so he was facing Nino. With full trust, he leaned forward and let Nino catch him in his embrace. He breathed there, in the warmth of Nino. His muscles were visibly relaxing, and the tension on his shoulders was slowly dissipating.
“I can’t draw,” Ohno said sulkily.
Nino chuckled at that because it just didn’t make sense. “What are you saying? Of course you can.” Nino ran his fingers through Ohno’s hair. “You had exhibitions of your own, didn’t you?”
Ohno didn’t even want to argue with that, he just nodded slowly.
“So you can draw. Don’t say that you can’t,” Nino chuckled and squeezed Ohno’s body once.
“I don’t know,” Ohno sighed. “I just can’t- I can’t finish anything. The idea doesn’t come to me and everything I draw is just not pretty.”
“Hmmm,” Nino hummed. “For me they are pretty, though.”
Ohno buried his face on Nino’s stomach. “You don’t know.”
Nino laughed. He knew better than anyone that Ohno didn’t mean any harm by that. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Nino inhaled and then exhaled while smiling. “But you have it in you. Probably it’s just a temporary block or something. Maybe you’re just tired.”
Ohno circled his arms around Nino’s waist and hugged him tightly, “I don’t know...”
“But I know,” Nino patted Ohno lovingly, “This one I know.”
Ohno didn’t say anything. He just drowned himself in the familiar feeling that was Nino. He felt Nino’s breath, he listened to Nino’s heartbeat, he took Nino’s scent in, and it all calmed him more than anything. Finally, he nodded and hummed, “Hm.”
“Good,” Nino grinned. “Now let’s eat dinner, shall we? I’m hungry.”
Ohno kept Nino from releasing him. He held Nino tighter and mumbled, “Five more minutes.”
Nino laughed. He found Ohno so endearing like this. Cute and very childlike. He kept running his fingers through Ohno’s hair, caressing the older slowly as if he’s holding a baby. Then, his eyes wandered to the table and to the sketches. Out of curiosity, he asked, “You finished those, though. Why did you draw so many sketches of me, anyway?”
“Because no matter how I screwed it up, drawings of you would always be pretty,” Ohno answered. And then, he added in a mumble, “It makes me feel better, drawing you.”
Nino’s heart fluttered on that. He ducked down to bury his reddened face on the crook of Ohno’s neck, and then giggled while whispering, “You silly.”
“I don’t know,” Ohno sighed. “I just can’t- I can’t finish anything. The idea doesn’t come to me and everything I draw is just not pretty.”
Nino sighed as he bent down and picked yet another crumpled paper. He took a glimpse of it and he thought the drawing on it was good, even though he had no idea what it was. He smoothed the paper, putting it on the table along with the other half-finished sketches that he had found earlier, and decided to walk straight to Ohno who by then had ignored twelve messages from Nino.
Nino didn’t bother to check on their bedroom first because the trail of papers showed that Ohno was in his mini studio. The door was opened, and Nino could see Ohno on his desk, drawing while pouting.
Nino sighed again. As much as he loved that cute pout that Ohno was sporting, he didn’t really like the fact that Ohno was in one of his foul moods. He proceeded inside carefully, picking up papers while on it, and realized that most of the papers inside the studio weren’t crumpled and almost all of them was of him. Of Nino. Of his face or his back or his hands or his eyes.
“Where’s your phone?” Nino asked while stacking the papers next to Ohno. Nino caught a glimpse of what Ohno was drawing; Nino himself.
“Don’t know,” Ohno mumbled his answer. He didn’t stop drawing, didn’t stop pouting. With the set up around them, Ohno surely looked like a kindergartner throwing a tantrum.
“You made me worried,” Nino stated, not blaming. He continued tidying the room a bit and walked behind Ohno’s chair, hugging the man from behind. He inhaled Ohno’s scent then put his chin on Ohno’s shoulder. “What happened, hm?”
Ohno kept focusing on his drawing. He put so much focus on it, it almost looked like he was angry at it. His fingers continued working without hesitation, forming Nino’s jaw, Nino’s neck, Nino’s shoulder. The pencil moved so smoothly, like Ohno had remembered every line and curve of Nino’s body.
“Ohno san,” Nino tried calling again softly. “Hey,” he caught Ohno’s hand when Ohno gripped the pencil even more tightly and drew even more fiercely, like he was trying to break the pencil and burn a hole on the sketchbook.
Ohno resisted at first, but then he surrendered and dropped his pencil down. He inhaled a long breath, calming himself down, and then exhaled it while turning the chair so he was facing Nino. With full trust, he leaned forward and let Nino catch him in his embrace. He breathed there, in the warmth of Nino. His muscles were visibly relaxing, and the tension on his shoulders was slowly dissipating.
“I can’t draw,” Ohno said sulkily.
Nino chuckled at that because it just didn’t make sense. “What are you saying? Of course you can.” Nino ran his fingers through Ohno’s hair. “You had exhibitions of your own, didn’t you?”
Ohno didn’t even want to argue with that, he just nodded slowly.
“So you can draw. Don’t say that you can’t,” Nino chuckled and squeezed Ohno’s body once.
“I don’t know,” Ohno sighed. “I just can’t- I can’t finish anything. The idea doesn’t come to me and everything I draw is just not pretty.”
“Hmmm,” Nino hummed. “For me they are pretty, though.”
Ohno buried his face on Nino’s stomach. “You don’t know.”
Nino laughed. He knew better than anyone that Ohno didn’t mean any harm by that. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Nino inhaled and then exhaled while smiling. “But you have it in you. Probably it’s just a temporary block or something. Maybe you’re just tired.”
Ohno circled his arms around Nino’s waist and hugged him tightly, “I don’t know...”
“But I know,” Nino patted Ohno lovingly, “This one I know.”
Ohno didn’t say anything. He just drowned himself in the familiar feeling that was Nino. He felt Nino’s breath, he listened to Nino’s heartbeat, he took Nino’s scent in, and it all calmed him more than anything. Finally, he nodded and hummed, “Hm.”
“Good,” Nino grinned. “Now let’s eat dinner, shall we? I’m hungry.”
Ohno kept Nino from releasing him. He held Nino tighter and mumbled, “Five more minutes.”
Nino laughed. He found Ohno so endearing like this. Cute and very childlike. He kept running his fingers through Ohno’s hair, caressing the older slowly as if he’s holding a baby. Then, his eyes wandered to the table and to the sketches. Out of curiosity, he asked, “You finished those, though. Why did you draw so many sketches of me, anyway?”
“Because no matter how I screwed it up, drawings of you would always be pretty,” Ohno answered. And then, he added in a mumble, “It makes me feel better, drawing you.”
Nino’s heart fluttered on that. He ducked down to bury his reddened face on the crook of Ohno’s neck, and then giggled while whispering, “You silly.”