{FANFICTION} Painting Our Future
TITLE: Painting our Future
PAIRING: MaruDa (Nakamaru Yuichi/Ueda Tatsuya)
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Nakamaru Yuichi meets a young artist, Ueda Tatsuya. The other intrigues him - the way he talks, the way he thinks, the way he paints. The way he sees the world.
GENRE: Fluff, maybe a little angst, romance. AU.
DISCLAIMER: Do not own. I'm too tired to think of something witty to say.
Dedicated to luna_truths because she is awesome and my twin. Not really, but close enough. I DON'T KNOW HOW IT GOT THIS LONG I'M SORRY!
The studio was dimly lit and dusty. Paintbrushes and small pots of unopened paint lay on shelves which were at their limit. Canvases were haphazardly thrown everywhere - on the paint-splattered floor; resting against the shut windows; clumsily stacked on top of one another on a small, circular table; standing against one of several easels. Paper was everywhere. Finished sketches adorned some, but many were scrunched up and thrown away. The place had a musky smell to it, as if no-one ever came inside, but Nakamaru Yuichi knew that someone did.
As he carefully made his way down the few steps that led into the studio, he glanced around. He was determined that the paint had escaped from the confines of its pot to fall against the floor; to leap against the walls - even to climb the rusted iron railings of the stairs.
Nakamaru observed one of the finished paintings, sitting quite happily on an easel. Despite the haphazard look of the studio, the painting was done with refined detail. From the scrunched up sketches which were thrown about the bottom of the easel, he could tell that this person had tried over and over again to try to make this piece work. People like this were the kinds of people he liked. Nakamaru smiled.
A sudden clang disturbed Nakamaru from his thoughts. He whipped around, and saw a small man kneeling on the ground, picking up the paint cans he had dropped. If it wasn't for the fact that the man was moving, Nakamaru would have thought he was part of the floor - he, too, was covered in splatters of paint.
The man stood up, having rearranged the paint cans properly in his arms so they didn't slip again. He shook a stray piece of copper hair out of his eyes and looked at Nakamaru. The man was wearing a shirt two sizes too big for him, revealing a dangerous amount of his chest. The jeans he wore were torn, and patched back up in some places. He had a pair of honey-coloured glasses perched atop his delicate nose, and he looked through them at Nakamaru with big brown eyes. The man had an ethereal beauty to him - the kind of beauty that he himself didn't know about.
He blew the same strand of hair away again, and waited for Nakamaru to speak first. Realising this, Nakamaru stuttered slightly, and bowed.
"Ah, sorry...um...my friend sent me here...are you the artist?"
The man raised his eyebrows and jerked his head upwards. Taking that to mean a 'yes', Nakamaru continued. "His name is Akanishi Jin... I'm here to pick up something of his?"
Nakamaru watched as the man contemplated his words, and suddenly, he started moving. Nakamaru stood awkwardly by the easel, not knowing whether to follow or not. He hadn't said anything, or made any move to show that Nakamaru should.
"Here." The voice was deeper than expected. Nakamaru shivered slightly, took a deep breath, and followed the trail the man had made. He watched as the artist stood by a stack of canvases, confusion written on his face when he realised he had nowhere to put the paint cans. Though the emotion looked cute scrawled across the man's features, Nakamaru stepped in to help.
"...can I take them from you?" he asked, walking closer to him. The man's eyes grew wide, and he darted backwards, only to trip over another canvas, and send everything (including himself) toppling to the floor.
"Oh my God, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I'll--"
"I'm fine." The artist stood up, avoiding Nakamaru's gaze, and dusted himself off. He left everything as it was and walked over to the canvases once again; busying himself with finding Akanishi's painting.
A few moments passed, the silence only broken by the rustle of the canvases as the artist flipped through them. Suddenly, he grabbed one, and twisted it out of the pile, practically throwing it at Nakamaru.
"Here you go." Nakamaru took the painting gingerly, and the man walked away, leaving Nakamaru slightly flustered. Then he remembered about the money.
"Hey! Um...wait!" The copper head turned around. "Your money. Um. Akanishi told me that you needed the last instalment?"
Recognition flooded into the artists' eyes. "Oh...yeah. I forgot."
Nakamaru chuckled lightly. "I can see that." He fished around in his backpack for a moment, every second being watched by those brown eyes, until he found his wallet. "Ah, found you!" he declared happily.
He looked up, and suddenly the man was closer than he had been before. Nakamaru gulped nervously. The artists' eyes drilled into him, seemingly looking right through him. The eyes searched his face. The man stepped back, his expression abruptly lighter.
"Tell Akanishi that it's fine," he said as he turned and walked away, yet again.
"Eh? But - don't you want... I mean...you worked so hard..." Damn. He didn't normally stutter like this.
"It's fine," he called out from over his shoulder. As he disappeared into another room, Nakamaru stood dumbly in the middle of the studio. He couldn't believe the man didn't want payment. Everyone wanted something for their hard work. He studied the picture in his hands - it was a painting of Jin's dog, Pin. However, instead of just painting a portrait of the animal, like anyone else would have, he had focused in on her right eye. The entire painting was just that one eye. It was incredible - Nakamaru swore he saw every single emotion in her eyes.
There was no warning. One moment he was standing there, admiring the way the man had captured even Jin's reflection in Pin's eye as he took the original photograph, the next moment, he was on the floor, being covered by something large, golden, and happy. Nakamaru struggled slightly, but it was no use - the dog was too heavy.
"Eri."
That voice again. The dog leapt off him and loped over to its owner, tongue lolling out of its mouth.
The artist patted its head fondly and regarded Nakamaru, who was still sprawled on the paint-covered floor. He made a sound, tsked his tongue, and held out a hand to Nakamaru. Nakamaru looked up at him, slightly surprised, but took his hand anyway, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm and the gentle strength of his fingers.
"Ah, thanks," he said as he straightened himself up. The artist made a non-committing noise, turning away his head.
"I need to ask you a favour."
"Eh? Why? What?" Nakamaru was flustered. Why was he suddenly speaking to him?
The artist (he should really figure out his name soon) turned around again, holding a battered old camera. "Model for me."
Now, Nakamaru didn't think he was the prettiest thing on Earth. He had a big nose; thick, heavy eyebrows which overshadowed his eyes; boring black hair which fell limply over his scalp; and a skinny body with too-long limbs. So it was clear to say that he was completely and utterly confused.
"But...why?"
The artist looked at him again, contemplating his question. He shrugged nonchalantly.
"I like your eyes."
Nakamaru stared at him. "...huh?!"
The artist looked at him again, but didn't say anything. The only sound echoing around the room was the thump of Eri's tail as it wagged against the floor.
"...okay." Nakamaru didn't know why he said it. There was something about his eyes. The artists' face lit up, and he smiled widely. Nakamaru found himself smiling back, feeling quite idiotic as the other no longer paid him any attention.
"So...what do I do?" Nakamaru asked awkwardly.
"Tell me your name."
"Ah...Nakamaru Yuichi."
"Ueda Tatsuya."
>>><<<
Nakamaru was led into another room, the dog at his heels. This room was larger, less cluttered, than the main entrance, with a few canvases leant up against the walls and only a few paint blotches here and there. Ueda followed closely behind, closing the door after Nakamaru had moved into the middle of the room.
"So..." Nakamaru started, fiddling with his own fingers as he regarded the small windows near the roof. Ueda just moved forward, looking at him with that gaze again, causing Nakamaru to gulp. He had never been observed so clearly before. Ueda must have come to some sort of decision, Nakamaru decided, as Ueda nodded to himself and turned to his old camera.
This went on for quite some time, with Nakamaru just standing there and Ueda concentrating solely on his camera. Finally, Nakamaru cleared his throat, and Ueda looked up, startled.
"Oh," was all he said, eyes darting about. "Yes."
Ueda moved closer, eyes once again sweeping over Nakamaru's face. Nakamaru wasn't sure what he was trying to find, but the corners of Ueda's mouth twisted up, and he raised his camera up to his eye. He must have taken a photograph, because he lowered it again.
"Uh... is that all you wanted?" Nakamaru asked, feeling rather embarrassed at all of this. This was certainly not what he had in mind when he had told Akanishi that he would pick up his painting.
But the artist was bringing his camera forward again, bending down as he pressed it to his face, and quickly snapped a photograph of Nakamaru's hands. "Er... do you need me to do anything?" Nakamaru asked, eyes on the top of Ueda's head.
"No," Ueda said, in that calm tone of his, and carried on, taking photos of Nakamaru's feet, his hair, his shirt, those worn out patches on the knees of his jeans. Nakamaru didn't know why he was doing this - didn't know why Nakamaru himself was allowing Ueda to do this. It was strange, and awkward, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot, letting Ueda point the lens at random points of his body.
Ueda sighed, placing the camera down on a small table and shifting the hair out of his eyes. "I'm done," he said simply, and turned around, patting his dog on the head.
Nakamaru looked from the dog to Ueda, and then to the camera. "You're...done? I can go now?"
Ueda nodded his head, his fingers now playing with the frayed ends of the dogs' collar. Nakamaru cleared his throat awkwardly, and started for the door, pausing for a second as he passed him. "Th-thankyou?" he said, needing to say something to end this... meeting, of sorts. Ueda just nodded, eyes focused on his dog. "Okay then."
Nakamaru saw himself out, finding his way through the maze of paints and canvases. He had to stop and take a deep breath once he was outside.
"What a strange man..." he said to himself, but shook his head and carried on with his day, remembering all too late that he had left that painting of Akanishi's with the artist.
>>><<<
It had been two weeks, and Nakamaru still couldn't get the artist out of his head, without a clue as to why. He had only met the other for a few hours, yet he wouldn't leave his mind. And frankly, it was starting to annoy him.
What was so special about Ueda Tatsuya? Why couldn't he think of anyone else? Why was it that Ueda's voice was haunting him? Why did his personality intrigue him? Why did his eyes mesmerize him?
As Nakamaru was standing outside Ueda's art studio yet again - he had started to pause out the front of it after work every day - something clicked inside his mind.
The door was open and he was inside before he really thought about it. The air inside was slightly cool, the smell of paint ripe in the air. Nakamaru coughed slightly, but made his way down the steps and into the mass of paint supplies. There was a shuffling noise and Eri bounded out from around the corner, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she leapt up, paws on Nakamaru's chest.
"Eri? Who's there?" It was his voice. Nakamaru felt a strange shiver run through his body, but shook it off, casting his eye around.
Ueda appeared, wiping off a brush with the bright green apron he was wearing over his already paint-splattered clothes. Eri let out a small bark, before returning back to all four paws. Ueda squinted his eyes at Nakamaru, before he dove his hands into the front pocket of his apron and pulling out his glasses. Once they were firmly settled on his nose, a look of recognition flooded his face and he let out a small, "Ah."
Nakamaru bowed his head awkwardly. Ueda slid the paintbrush into the pocket of his apron, wiping his hands on the front of it. He never once took his eyes off Nakamaru.
"Nakamaru, wasn't it?" he asked, moving forward to pat Eri on the head.
"Mm," was all Nakamaru could manage, voice catching in his throat as Ueda smiled slightly.
"Come back for Akanishi's painting?"
"Wha-- oh. Oh, right," Nakamaru stuttered out. Ueda watched him for a moment, a smile still playing on his lips, before turning to his right and ducking under a desk. "Where--"
Ueda straightened up again, flashing Nakamaru a bright smile and handed over the painting, which was covered with a piece of cloth. "I've been... wondering when you'd come back."
"Oh, yeah-- um, well, I've been busy, and..." Nakamaru's voice faded away, as Ueda leant forward and took his hand in his. He swore he felt his heart jump as Ueda gazed at his fingers.
"Do you... I mean, do you mind if I...?"
"Oh, no," Nakamaru said, feeling sure that his face was bright red by now, "It's okay."
Ueda gave him another one of those smiles - the kind that seemed to light up his entire face - and Nakamaru felt something in him give way.
Something happened, there, right in that moment. They both felt it, something creating itself between them, taking shape slowly, forming around their joint hands. And as Ueda turned, dropping Nakamaru's hand, there was a strange feeling lingering on their skin.
Ueda seemed unfazed, although he did cast a glance at his own hand, his fingers pressing together as he walked. Nakamaru followed slowly, Eri trotting along beside him. Ueda stopped before the door that led into that other room, though, and turned, facing Nakamaru.
"What's up?" Nakamaru asked, but Ueda just shook his head and opened the door. There was a small rectangular canvas on the easel, the beginnings of a painting on it's surface without shading or form. It seemed like a mass of brown, to Nakamaru, but Ueda knew exactly what he was doing. He led Nakamaru over to the canvas, his fingers playing slightly with the ties of his apron.
"It's you," he said simply. Nakamaru didn't think that the image on the canvas looked anything like him - there was just blocks of browns and creams and shapes that--
Oh. Oh. Nakamaru glanced down to his own hands, and back up to the canvas. Ueda had started a painting on his hands. "Ah," was all Nakamaru could manage to get out, and he saw Ueda's shoulders drop. "No-- that's not what I meant."
Ueda looked up at him, questions swimming in his eyes. "What did you mean, then?"
"It wasn't...exactly what I was expecting, that's all," he murmured, leaning down to get a closer look at it. Now that he was so near, he could clearly see the lines of red chalk, marking out where one hand started and where the other finished. The blocks of colour were no longer just masses of paint; he could see where the lights and darks were - where Ueda would start to define the shadows more.
"Is it alright?" Ueda asked, in that whispery voice of his. Nakamaru nodded. "I did others, too." Nakamaru looked up at that. "Is that okay?"
"Stop asking," he said firmly, and he saw Ueda clench his jaw. "I let you take those photos, didn't I?" As he said this, he realised that they were hung up on the wall, some of them water damaged and dog-eared. Ueda just nodded. "Well... then I think my permission has already been granted..." Nakamaru's voice trailed off as he looked at the photographs dotted around. There were more than he had thought - that day when Ueda had been taking photos, he had assumed he had taken three or so. But judging by these, he took twenty or more.
"Okay," Ueda murmured, "But do you like it?"
Nakamaru nodded, not realising Ueda had come up next to him, as he looked about the room. "Holy-- When did you get there?"
Ueda smiled slightly, gazing at him with those soft eyes, before lifting a hand to Nakamaru's cheek, turning him towards him. Nakamaru froze, staring down at Ueda whose hand was still resting on his cheek. "E-Everything alright?" he managed to stutter out, feeling that fluttery emotion pass through him once again.
"Mm."
"What're you doing?"
"I like the way the light hits your skin."
"....thankyou?"
"Mm."
"You are a strange one, aren't you?" Nakamaru said with a small smile on his face, but Ueda's eyes darkened and he removed his hand. Quickly, Nakamaru grabbed a hold of his wrist before he could walk away. "I'm sorry...?"
"It's okay," Ueda replied, but his tone said otherwise.
Nakamaru let go of his arm, and Ueda moved behind the easel, creating a barrier between he and Nakamaru. Nakamaru was confused by all of this; he hadn't meant anything bad by his comment...
"What'd I do?"
"Nothing, it's fine," Ueda muttered, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"Look, if I said something--"
"Really, don't worry about it," Ueda said forcefully, locking eyes with Nakamaru but quickly averting his gaze.
"Do you want me to--"
"Yes, please."
"No," Nakamaru murmured, before stopping in his tracks and turning back towards Ueda, who was looking up at him. "No, I'm not leaving."
"Wh--"
He didn't know what drove him to do it, but Nakamaru had crossed the distance between he and the artist in a few strides, grasping onto his forearms and pulling him into a hug. His actions caught up with him a few seconds later, as he was looking at the top of Ueda's head with wide eyes. Ueda himself had frozen against Nakamaru's body, arms lying limp at his sides. Soon, though, his arms came up to wrap around Nakamaru's torso, fingers clutching at his shirt as he sighed and nestled somewhat into the embrace. His hair brushed along Nakamaru's jawline as he laid his head on Nakamaru's chest, and Nakamaru felt something wrap around his heart; something warm and sweet.
"I'm sorry," Nakamaru repeated, and he felt Ueda shiver as his breath stirred Ueda's hair. Ueda shook his head, burying his head further into Nakamaru's shirt.
"It's okay," he whispered eventually.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Okay."
So they stayed like that, without another word spoken. The sun was beginning to set, staining the room in yellow-orange tones. Eri stood up with a whine, and left the room, tail still wagging. Ueda shifted, looking up at Nakamaru. "Sorry," was all he said, before distancing himself away.
Nakamaru was about to take his leave, crossing the room silently and tucking that painting of Akanishi's away under his arm again, until Ueda's words stopped him.
"Everyone always said I was strange," he murmured, twisting his hands together. "The way I look; the way I speak; the way I act." He looked up at Nakamaru, eyes so full of raw emotion that Nakamaru didn't know what to do. "I know you were only joking, but-- but something still kind of... snaps, I suppose. I'm very sorry," he finished, bowing slightly. Nakamaru walked right up to him and hit him over the head.
"What the heck are you apologising for?" Nakamaru asked in anger. "You've done nothing wrong."
Ueda held onto the back of his head, looking up at Nakamaru. "You know, you're beautiful," he said, and quietly walked off to find Eri.
Nakamaru left the studio in a daze.
>>><<<
The next time Nakamaru met Ueda was not in the art studio, but at the park, one Sunday morning. He was with Akanishi, kicking a small ball to him and watching little Pin rush forward to catch it, when he looked up and saw that familiar figure.
Ueda was sitting on the grass, Eri's leash wrapped around his foot. He had a look of utter concentration as he drew something in a large sketchbook, which was perched on his knees. Eri herself sat next to him, surveying her surroundings with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.
"Oi, Nakamaru--" Akanishi called out, before the ball connected with Nakamaru's head. "I tried to warn you!"
Nakamaru glared at the man - who just smirked at him before turning back to Pin - and stalked away, towards Ueda.
His copper hair was shining a deep red in the sun, Eri's fur a pretty golden as she shook herself and watched him walk up to them with curious eyes. Ueda continued sketching, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated solely on the developing artwork before him.
"Hey," Nakamaru said, lowering himself to the ground. Ueda didn't acknowledge him at all. Nakamaru cleared his throat. Nothing. He gave up, and just poked Ueda in the side.
Ueda jumped, staring at him with wide eyes. "Oh, it's you," he said, rubbing his side absentmindedly.
"Hello to you, too," Nakamaru said, shuffling around so that his elbows were resting on his knees. Ueda made a noise, and went back to his drawing, clucking his tongue after a while and turning the page. "What's up?"
"It's no good," he replied, eyes focused on the paper as his pencil flew over it's surface.
"I'm sure it was fine," Nakamaru started, but Ueda shook his head, sighing when this sketch wasn't going the way he wanted, either. He closed the book and placed it beside them. Nakamaru picked it back up, flipping through pages upon pages of unfinished sketches. "These are amazing," he praised, but Ueda avoided his gaze, watching Jin play with Pin.
"That's the dog I painted, isn't it?" he asked.
Nakamaru sighed. "Yes, her name is Pin."
"That's a strange name," Ueda murmured, brushing grass off his knee.
"Mm."
"Is that Akanishi?"
"Yeah," Nakamaru answered, watching Jin run after his dog.
"He has nice hair."
Nakamaru had to laugh. "I...suppose he does."
"Hmm. Hungry?" Nakamaru turned, to see Ueda with a large bento and a bottle of water. Nakamaru shook his head, and Ueda shrugged, turning away so he could start eating.
Akanishi trotted up to them, then, flushed and panting, and bearing a wide smile. "Hi," he said happily. Ueda nodded at him. Eri strained against her leash, trying to get to little Pin, who had hidden behind Akanishi's legs.
"Eri," Ueda said. She whined, but sat back down, eyes focused on the dog in front of her.
Akanishi looked at Ueda strangely before turning to Nakamaru. "I'm off, d'you want to come?" When Nakamaru shook his head, Akanishi smiled and bid them goodbye. "Oh, and thanks," he added, "The painting is amazing."
Even though Ueda didn't say anything, Nakamaru saw his face redden, but kept quiet. "Bye, Jin."
"I don't like his shoes," Ueda said, once Akanishi had gone, and Nakamaru laughed.
"Yeah, me neither," he agreed, earning a smile from Ueda.
They sat there for a while, content in each others' company. Soon, however, clouds started to form over the sun, the breeze turning cold and harsher. Ueda stood, dusting himself off before moving to take hold of Eri's leash. He turned to Nakamaru. "I'm leaving, now."
"Oh." Nakamaru stood, looking awkwardly between Ueda and his own feet. "Do you... I mean - would you like to--"
"Nakamaru." Ueda cocked his head, regarding Nakamaru with those brown eyes. "I finished those paintings."
Nakamaru just stared, until Ueda turned and started to walk away, Eri trotting silently beside him. He paused, looking over his shoulder as the rain began to fall. "Well? Are you coming?"
Nakamaru swore he saw a little smirk on Ueda's face as he turned back.
>>><<<
The two were drenched to the bone as they practically fell in through the doorway to the studio. Eri shook herself, rushing off quickly to find food something, Ueda told Nakamaru, that she was quite good at. Nakamaru laughed.
The studio was warm, the broken, dusty lamps turning the room orange. Ueda led Nakamaru over to the back room, where the temperature dropped considerably.
"Oh, the painting..." He moved away, over to that easel standing in the corner.
The painting was as small as the last one - this was of the wrinkles in Nakamaru's clothing, bunched up at his hips. He knew those clothes belonged to him - there was that rip that he had made when he had snagged his shirt on something; there was that coffee stain that he thought no-one would notice.
"There are more over there," Ueda said, gesturing towards the far wall, where he had laid a few other canvases flat on the table. Nakamaru walked over, still slightly reeling from the amazing painting on the easel. Here were more snapshots of Nakamaru - an ear, a shoe, the back pocket of his jeans. "That's embarrassing," he laughed sheepishly, "My money is sticking out of my pocket..."
"It happens," Ueda chuckled.
It dawned on Nakamaru much later that Ueda had somehow managed to get a photo of his butt, but for now, he moved to the next painting, then the next, then the next. He couldn't help but breathe out in awe as he saw the last canvas, solely of his eye.
Just like that one of Pin, his eye showed so much emotion. He was vaguely aware of Ueda's questioning stare - is it alright? Is it okay? What's wrong? - but ignored it. He could almost see what he had been thinking that very day, in the strokes of Ueda's paintbrush so carefully thought out. There was that hint of uncertainty, slight curiosity, and a tinge of something that may have been feelings that he wasn't even sure of then. Feelings for Ueda.
"Wow," was all he could say, turning to face a slightly wide-eyed Ueda.
"Is it...okay?"
"It's amazing, Ueda." Nakamaru turned to him, those dark eyes soft. Ueda smiled a strange sort of smile, before rubbing at his nose.
"It's cold," Ueda said sheepishly, sniffling and tucking a wet clump of hair behind his ear.
"Towels?"
"Somewhere."
"Useful."
"You're beautiful."
"Yes well-- wait, what?" Nakamaru almost jumped in shock as suddenly Ueda was closer than he was before. "What're you doing?"
Ueda didn't say anything. He leant up, Nakamaru's heartbeat pounding as Ueda softly cleared away a few strands of hair from his forehead. His expression was gentle, sweet, as he smiled slightly and brought his hand down, cupping Nakamaru's face.
Nakamaru sucked in a breath, just watching Ueda. He had this...distant look upon his face, like he wasn't really aware of what he was doing. "Ueda," Nakamaru murmured, bringing Ueda out of his daze.
"Oops," he said, removing his hand none-too-quickly.
"No, it's okay," Nakamaru said, insides twisting about as Ueda gave him another smile. "You really have to stop calling me beautiful, though," he laughed, having difficulty in saying the word 'beautiful'. He wasn't beautiful.
"Why?" Ueda asked, already walking out of the room to fetch them some towels.
"Because it's not true!" he called, but Eri answered him instead, panting as she ran through the door. "Oh hello." She promptly sneezed. "Thankyou. Now," he said, crouching down on the floor in front of her, "What do I do about your owner, huh?" Eri wagged her tail at the sound of his voice.
"What're you doing about me?" Ueda asked absentmindedly as he came around the corner, smiling as he saw the two.
"Nothing," Nakamaru said quickly. Ueda gave him a strange look, before sitting down next to him and passing him a towel.
"Here."
Nakamaru liked the little silences that they shared. With anyone else, it would be uncomfortable, but with Ueda, he didn't feel the need to constantly talk. He felt a sort of freedom, being around the other, with his strange ways and low voice.
He took the towel, shivering as he realised just how cold and wet he actually was. Ueda was faring the same, his thin shirt clinging to his body. Nakamaru wrenched his eyes away as Ueda turned to him, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Nakamaru?" he asked, causing Nakamaru to jump slightly.
"Mm?"
Ueda crept closer. "Do you like me?"
Nakamaru's heart skipped a beat. "Of-- of course I do," he answered, busying himself by pretending to dry his hair.
"Nakamaru?"
"Yes?"
Ueda reached up, taking the towel out of his hands again. "Your hair is already dry," he whispered, a smile on his face.
"Oh..."
"You know what?"
"W-what?"
"I kinda like you."
Nakamaru turned, heart hammering against his ribcage. "What?"
Ueda smiled. "You're beautiful."
Nakamaru looked deep into Ueda's eyes, those wonderful dark eyes that had captivated him since the day they had met. "Can I kiss you?" he stumbled out, feeling less confident now that the words were out and Ueda was looking at him quizzically. "Uh... no, it's-- I'm sorry-- That was stupid--"
"Stop it," Ueda breathed, sitting up and cupping Nakamaru's face with both of his hands. Nakamaru's stomach flipped, looking into those eyes and feeling the warmth from Ueda's hands.
Ueda slowly leant down, eyes flicking down to Nakamaru's lips. Nakamaru forgot how to breathe, as Ueda rested his forehead against Nakamaru's, gazing at him, his eyes dark. He felt Ueda shift closer, knees pressing against his legs, breathing becoming shallow as he moved closer still. Nakamaru brought his hands around, gently placing them, shaking, on Ueda's hips.
Nakamaru was the one to lean forward and capture Ueda's lips in his own. Ueda made a small noise of surprise, before smiling against Nakamaru's lips, and kissing him back. Ueda's kisses were soft, lingering, special. There wasn't anything fancy about it, but it was all they needed. Just the two of them, sitting on the floor of that room, clothes damp and shivering slightly.
And it was the most perfect kiss, as Ueda pulled back and just breathed, placing a single kiss atop Nakamaru's nose. Nakamaru sighed, resting his head on Ueda's shoulder, kissing his neck gently.
"I may love you," Ueda said, in a small voice, avoiding Nakamaru's eyes.
"Well, I may love you, too," Nakamaru replied.
Ueda smiled widely, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him tight.
END.
This is a fic that has been on my computer for ages now, and I just needed a push to finish it. I don't know why, but I'm quite proud of it...
And another random thing - I got a tattoo! It's only little, but it's of Mickey Mouse, and I love it so much. I also broke another key on my keyboard. Yay, no shift key.