Boy With a Basket of Bread
Title: Boy With a Basket of Bread
Pairing: ohmiya
Summary: Nino goes to the infamous painter's studio against his better judgment. He finds more than he bargained for.
Notes: Inspired by stories I was told about the painter Caravaggio during an art class in Rome, hence the strangely medieval Roman setting.
Nino's feet patter on the sanded cobblestones that make up the road outside his home. The sun is not yet quite risen and there are very few people on the street. All the better. They would frown if they knew where he was going.
He turns left at the cathedral and ducks into a back alley. Two glances over his shoulder assure him that no one has been watching, not that anything would really come of a witness other than some gossip in the local shops which would probably make its way back to his mother. That part would be hard to deal with but he could, should it come to that.
A short rap on the door and within seconds, the reassuring face of Sho opens it, giving him a nod of recognition. He slips in past the older man and waits as Sho locks the door behind him. The early sunlight creeps in through a side window, throwing the doorway to the studio into sharp relief. Nino's breath catches in anticipation and he taps his foot, waiting for Sho to finish.
The lock clicks into place and Sho drops the key into a pocket in his jacket before turning towards the impatient boy. He hides a small smirk in the lingering darkness of the hallway and gestures with a hand for Nino to follow him. Nino's feet pad after Sho without hesitation.
The studio has more windows than the rest of the house, almost all of them facing east, so even in the early morning hours like this the artist is still able to create. Nino isn't sure if the house had been designed that way but he wouldn't be surprised.
No one is inside when Sho enters and Nino feels a little disappointed for reasons he doesn't try to understand. He sets his small bundle in one of the corners, out of the way, and turns back to Sho, questions in his eyes. The older man shrugs.
"I thought he was awake but maybe not. I'll go check. You wait here."
Nino nods at Sho's words and watches silently as he turns and exits. Soon the sound of Sho's footfalls disappear and Nino is truly alone. His eyes travel from one corner of the room to the other, trying to absorb it, make it a part of him.
It is huge, bigger than all three rooms of Nino's house combined. Windows cover the east wall, poorly crafted in an attempt to bring in more light at the price of design. Somehow they fit the mood of the place, though, and don't seem odd. Indoors, there isn't much. Painting supplies sit piled in a corner and another section of the room has chests full of odd clothes and funny accessories. He takes a step towards the chest, a glinting piece of gold laughing at him from the edge.
"It's not real, you know," a voice calls from behind him and Nino spins around, embarrassed and surprised.
"I wasn't going to steal--"
His voice dies in his throat when he finally catches a glimpse of the man he'd heard so many rumors about. Ohno the Casanova. Ohno the Ladykiller. Ohno the Dog. This was that man?
He looks sleepy, if anything. His hair is disheveled and he's clothed in only a long white tunic that hangs beyond his knees. His eyes aren't threatening or intimidating, simply curious, and Nino feels a warmth in his cheeks that is usually reserved for awkward daydreams.
"Well, come over here and let me look closer at you," he says, ignoring the way Nino tries to hide his face behind his hands. Part of Nino wonders why he was so eager to make it here this morning. He knows that he'll be the talk of the town if this ever gets around. He inhales and takes a few steps forward.
He'd been at the market two days earlier when a hand tugged at his shoulder and pulled him behind the fruit vender's stall. Nino doesn't recognize the man that would introduce himself as Aiba but he certainly knows his associate, Sho, who turns up two seconds later.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" Nino asks as politely as possible, thoughts running like mad through his head. The greatest of all is that he's so impossibly happy his mother sent him to the market alone this morning.
"Are you aware of who we work for, boy?" Sho asks and Aiba frowns at his hyper civility. Nino nods once.
"Well, congratulations!" Aiba's face breaks into a grin as he claps a hand on Nino's shoulder. "Our master must have liked something he saw because he sent us out here to find you. He wants you to be his next model."
"Me?" Nino's stomach drops in a mixture of fear, curiosity and pride. "But I thought he only painted women."
Aiba shrugs and Sho doesn't offer any other information.
"All we know," Aiba finally throws out, "is that he told us to tell you that he wants you in the studio as soon as possible. He must be inspired or something."
Two factions war within Nino. He knows that it's social suicide to be an Ohno model, the man being as famous for his twisted love affairs as for his stunning artwork but he is also curious as to why he, of all people, had interested the infamous painter. His gut makes a decision before his mind catches up.
"I'm supposed to open the shop Thursdays," he murmurs quickly, an eye towards the bustle of the market. "I can be there at dawn."
"We'll be waiting," Aiba smiles and he and Sho disappear into the crowd as curiously as they came. Nino's stomach churns and he wonders what he has done to himself.
His stomach feels much the same now as he looks everywhere but the painter as he closes the distance between them. He can feel Ohno's eyes studying him up and down as he walks and he doesn't know how he feels about it. His mind wants to be uncomfortable but his heart flies into a beat he hasn't felt since childhood.
"You're as pretty as I remember," Ohno mutters and Nino looks up, surprised, meeting the artist's eyes. There is something in their depths that Nino can't place but it makes his neck heat.
"Why do you want to paint me?" Nino asks timidly, one last step bringing him directly in front of Ohno. He smells of paint and lavender and the back of Nino's mind stores that information for future daydreams.
"I'm good," Ohno shrugs, never moving his eyes away from Nino's, "and I only want to paint the best models. You will be the best."
"But I'm not a girl," Nino feels the need to point out, as if it weren't obvious and Ohno chuckles, a boyish sound that feels like sunshine.
"No, you're not," Ohno agrees and reaches forward to brush a hair out of Nino's eyes. Instinct tells Nino to flinch away but he ignores it, staring mystified at the painter. Ohno simply cocks his head to the side and smiles warmly. Nino stops breathing for a moment.
"Stay there," Ohno says and rushes over towards his prop corner, pulling things out at random and frowning at his inability to find what he wants. Nino watches only vaguely, mind replaying the image of Ohno's face concentrating on his own. Ohno finally reappears with a cape in his hand and an apologetic expression.
"I couldn't find what I wanted," he explains and holds out the cape, "but could you put this on? And try and look heroic or something."
Nino shakes himself out of his daze and nods, placing the fabric around his shoulders and watching as Ohno walks over to his paints, pulling out some paper and a pencil. He sits near to Nino, an intense look of concentration as he starts sketching Nino's form.
"Should I be doing something more than this?" Nino asks, feeling silly standing there. Ohno doesn't answer, simply shaking his head and scribbling more furiously. Nino decides to focus on the way Ohno's nose scrunches up as he thinks about his work.
It takes an hour or so and the sun is much higher in the sky when Ohno sets the paper down. Nino takes that as a sign and lets his shoulders fall, the cape tumbling off of them in the action. Ohno doesn't say anything and Nino doesn't want to break the strange silence.
"When can you come back?" Ohno finally asks and Nino blinks, surprised.
"You want me to come back?" he questions, not quite sure he heard that right. All he did was stand with a cape on, never mind the fact that he was male to begin with. Something is clearly very wrong here.
But Ohno simply nods and asks again.
"I guess I could come back tomorrow morning," Nino thinks aloud. "I open shop for the next few days. I can just get up early and head over. No one would miss me for a few hours."
"That would be great," Ohno smiles and Nino doesn't know what to make of this at all. He feels his head nod and his feet carry him out the door and back home. But for the rest of the day, all he thinks of is that smile.
-------
"Can you talk while you paint?" Nino asks two days later, holding a sword awkwardly in his right hand and turned more towards the wall than the painter in the studio's corner. He doesn't get an answer immediately and Nino figures that that in itself is an answer to the question but he hears a voice a minute or so later.
"Not very well," Ohno admits, tongue sticking out slightly as he adds some red to Nino's shoes. "But I can try. Why? Are you bored already?"
"Oh, no," Nino replies quickly. "I'm not bored." He pauses, wonders how bold he feels. "Just a little curious, I suppose."
Another minute passes.
"Alright then," Ohno concedes. "Ask me whatever you feel."
Nino thinks about it for a little while, not quite sure what to use his free pass on. The sun rises higher in the window and he is reminded of how little time he has in each of these meetings.
"Why me?"
Ohno answers almost immediately.
"I told you, because you're the best."
Nino sighs; although he doesn't know why, part of him wants a different answer.
"But there's nothing special about me. I'm just an ordinary person. I'm just... me."
Ohno fills in the black of Nino's hair and smiles to himself as he gives the face a small mole on its chin.
"And I was the son of a banker growing up. It doesn't matter. Sometimes a person has something and you have something." Ohno pauses and looks up, a curious expression on his face. "What do you actually do? I've never asked."
Nino has to think of the answer to that for a minute before words can form. He'd lost the power of speech for a few seconds in Ohno's eyes.
"I'm the baker's son," he shrugs. "Nothing special."
"I always wanted to be a baker," Ohno confides in him, a small conspiratorial smile on his face. "Still kind of do. Maybe I'll retire someday and run the bakery with you."
Ohno smiles and returns back to the painting, adding strong accents of blue to Nino's cape. Nino doesn't respond, too many images fighting for dominance in his head. He finally settles on a picture of he and Ohno, side by side, apron-clad and taking rolls out of the oven in the warm light of the morning.
Ohno changes the picture just slightly, so that he can capture the sheer warmth of Nino's grin.
-------
"Do you want to see it?" Ohno asks and Nino doesn't think he does. The painting had apparently been finished the night before, Ohno had explained when he got there this morning. He just needed to do a little more contrast and that could be done without the model.
Nino almost says no but Ohno pulls the painting out before Nino can manage words. He is impressed by the clean lines of the sword Painting Nino holds, by the sharp background full of bursts of color, and the deep hues used in the outfit Ohno had forced him into. He is blown away by the clear loving effort put into the reflection of his own face.
"It's wonderful," he breathes and Ohno smiles the kind of smile children wear for an approving parent. The picture is set down against the wall, watching the two of them beat around the bush.
Nino feels the awkwardness of the situation push down around him but Ohno seems to not notice it, still glancing down at the painting. 'This is the end,' Nino thinks and lets out a small sigh.
The sound snaps Ohno out of his reverie. He turns to Nino, an odd look in his eye, and in that moment Nino doesn't know his own name, let alone what Ohno intends.
Lips meet lips and Nino is surprised. His heart jumps into his throat but his mind pushes back down at it. He stumbles backward and Ohno doesn't stop him.
Thoughts come back to Nino slowly, jumbled, and Ohno waits patiently, watching Nino's face for signs of emotion. After a minute or so, Nino opens his mouth.
"Why?" Nino asks, a small syllable that he feels will change his life. Ohno seems unfazed. He smiles.
"I like you," he admits and Nino likes to believe he sees a hint of red on the tips of Ohno's ears.
"You like girls," Nino states, a fact he had always been told, ever since the days Ohno's first works had made their way around the city. 'Isn't he talented, Kazu?' his mother had smiled. 'But you better watch out for your sister. I hear he eats girls for breakfast.'
"They say that, don't they?" Ohno laughs and Nino is confused. A foot steps forward of its own accord and Ohno doesn't miss it, long fingers wrapping around Nino's wrist, pulling him only slightly closer.
"Sometimes people start rumors about themselves," Ohno murmurs and Nino is only just close enough to hear. "Do you know why they do that?"
Nino shakes his head, mind filled with the scent of lavender and oil paints.
"I paint mostly for the church," Ohno states and Nino nods in agreement. "What is the one thing the church would hate more than a painter that had a lot of affairs?"
The wheels turn slowly in Nino's brain, mainly because it is so clouded with hope, but he finally thinks he knows what Ohno is hinting at.
"A painter that has affairs with men?" He asks timidly and Ohno rewards him with a peck on the tip of his nose.
"Just one man," he admits, slightly apprehensive himself, "if he would like to."
Nino is dumbfounded. Ohno watches him with optimistic eyes and, despite his inner confusion, that is all Nino needs. He closes the small gap between them and lands his lips awkwardly on Ohno's. Tongues and hopes meet. Nino is late to work.
-------
Nino isn't always the model anymore. Sometimes Ohno paints Sho or Aiba and sometimes Ohno brings a girl he found in the market. His paintings need varying subjects and he claims that it would get suspicious if suddenly all his saints were sporting feline smiles and adorable moles. Nino rewards him with a kiss on the cheek and a fresh loaf of bread. They are his two favorite things.
After work at the bakery, while slipping his mother some story about a girl across town, Nino sneaks into the studio as the last rays of sunshine cast shadows on the ceiling. Ohno always waits there, sometimes painting, sometimes simply sitting.
"You're pretty."
"You're talented."
"We make a good team."
Nino smiles wider than he thinks he ever has and slips into Ohno's arms, content to spend another night with the city's most infamous artist. His smile widens even more when Ohno promises to make Nino as notorious as he is, sure it will increase bakery business.
And twenty years later, when the strange reclusive artist steps down from his profession to help his lifelong friend with a small bakery in the heart of the city, the women gossip and buy more bread and Nino smiles, knowing that Ohno had been right.
~
I promise I'm working on Agent 22 but writer's block had me writing this. Hopefully chapter 5 of the other will be out soon. Hope you enjoy~!
Pairing: ohmiya
Summary: Nino goes to the infamous painter's studio against his better judgment. He finds more than he bargained for.
Notes: Inspired by stories I was told about the painter Caravaggio during an art class in Rome, hence the strangely medieval Roman setting.
Nino's feet patter on the sanded cobblestones that make up the road outside his home. The sun is not yet quite risen and there are very few people on the street. All the better. They would frown if they knew where he was going.
He turns left at the cathedral and ducks into a back alley. Two glances over his shoulder assure him that no one has been watching, not that anything would really come of a witness other than some gossip in the local shops which would probably make its way back to his mother. That part would be hard to deal with but he could, should it come to that.
A short rap on the door and within seconds, the reassuring face of Sho opens it, giving him a nod of recognition. He slips in past the older man and waits as Sho locks the door behind him. The early sunlight creeps in through a side window, throwing the doorway to the studio into sharp relief. Nino's breath catches in anticipation and he taps his foot, waiting for Sho to finish.
The lock clicks into place and Sho drops the key into a pocket in his jacket before turning towards the impatient boy. He hides a small smirk in the lingering darkness of the hallway and gestures with a hand for Nino to follow him. Nino's feet pad after Sho without hesitation.
The studio has more windows than the rest of the house, almost all of them facing east, so even in the early morning hours like this the artist is still able to create. Nino isn't sure if the house had been designed that way but he wouldn't be surprised.
No one is inside when Sho enters and Nino feels a little disappointed for reasons he doesn't try to understand. He sets his small bundle in one of the corners, out of the way, and turns back to Sho, questions in his eyes. The older man shrugs.
"I thought he was awake but maybe not. I'll go check. You wait here."
Nino nods at Sho's words and watches silently as he turns and exits. Soon the sound of Sho's footfalls disappear and Nino is truly alone. His eyes travel from one corner of the room to the other, trying to absorb it, make it a part of him.
It is huge, bigger than all three rooms of Nino's house combined. Windows cover the east wall, poorly crafted in an attempt to bring in more light at the price of design. Somehow they fit the mood of the place, though, and don't seem odd. Indoors, there isn't much. Painting supplies sit piled in a corner and another section of the room has chests full of odd clothes and funny accessories. He takes a step towards the chest, a glinting piece of gold laughing at him from the edge.
"It's not real, you know," a voice calls from behind him and Nino spins around, embarrassed and surprised.
"I wasn't going to steal--"
His voice dies in his throat when he finally catches a glimpse of the man he'd heard so many rumors about. Ohno the Casanova. Ohno the Ladykiller. Ohno the Dog. This was that man?
He looks sleepy, if anything. His hair is disheveled and he's clothed in only a long white tunic that hangs beyond his knees. His eyes aren't threatening or intimidating, simply curious, and Nino feels a warmth in his cheeks that is usually reserved for awkward daydreams.
"Well, come over here and let me look closer at you," he says, ignoring the way Nino tries to hide his face behind his hands. Part of Nino wonders why he was so eager to make it here this morning. He knows that he'll be the talk of the town if this ever gets around. He inhales and takes a few steps forward.
He'd been at the market two days earlier when a hand tugged at his shoulder and pulled him behind the fruit vender's stall. Nino doesn't recognize the man that would introduce himself as Aiba but he certainly knows his associate, Sho, who turns up two seconds later.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" Nino asks as politely as possible, thoughts running like mad through his head. The greatest of all is that he's so impossibly happy his mother sent him to the market alone this morning.
"Are you aware of who we work for, boy?" Sho asks and Aiba frowns at his hyper civility. Nino nods once.
"Well, congratulations!" Aiba's face breaks into a grin as he claps a hand on Nino's shoulder. "Our master must have liked something he saw because he sent us out here to find you. He wants you to be his next model."
"Me?" Nino's stomach drops in a mixture of fear, curiosity and pride. "But I thought he only painted women."
Aiba shrugs and Sho doesn't offer any other information.
"All we know," Aiba finally throws out, "is that he told us to tell you that he wants you in the studio as soon as possible. He must be inspired or something."
Two factions war within Nino. He knows that it's social suicide to be an Ohno model, the man being as famous for his twisted love affairs as for his stunning artwork but he is also curious as to why he, of all people, had interested the infamous painter. His gut makes a decision before his mind catches up.
"I'm supposed to open the shop Thursdays," he murmurs quickly, an eye towards the bustle of the market. "I can be there at dawn."
"We'll be waiting," Aiba smiles and he and Sho disappear into the crowd as curiously as they came. Nino's stomach churns and he wonders what he has done to himself.
His stomach feels much the same now as he looks everywhere but the painter as he closes the distance between them. He can feel Ohno's eyes studying him up and down as he walks and he doesn't know how he feels about it. His mind wants to be uncomfortable but his heart flies into a beat he hasn't felt since childhood.
"You're as pretty as I remember," Ohno mutters and Nino looks up, surprised, meeting the artist's eyes. There is something in their depths that Nino can't place but it makes his neck heat.
"Why do you want to paint me?" Nino asks timidly, one last step bringing him directly in front of Ohno. He smells of paint and lavender and the back of Nino's mind stores that information for future daydreams.
"I'm good," Ohno shrugs, never moving his eyes away from Nino's, "and I only want to paint the best models. You will be the best."
"But I'm not a girl," Nino feels the need to point out, as if it weren't obvious and Ohno chuckles, a boyish sound that feels like sunshine.
"No, you're not," Ohno agrees and reaches forward to brush a hair out of Nino's eyes. Instinct tells Nino to flinch away but he ignores it, staring mystified at the painter. Ohno simply cocks his head to the side and smiles warmly. Nino stops breathing for a moment.
"Stay there," Ohno says and rushes over towards his prop corner, pulling things out at random and frowning at his inability to find what he wants. Nino watches only vaguely, mind replaying the image of Ohno's face concentrating on his own. Ohno finally reappears with a cape in his hand and an apologetic expression.
"I couldn't find what I wanted," he explains and holds out the cape, "but could you put this on? And try and look heroic or something."
Nino shakes himself out of his daze and nods, placing the fabric around his shoulders and watching as Ohno walks over to his paints, pulling out some paper and a pencil. He sits near to Nino, an intense look of concentration as he starts sketching Nino's form.
"Should I be doing something more than this?" Nino asks, feeling silly standing there. Ohno doesn't answer, simply shaking his head and scribbling more furiously. Nino decides to focus on the way Ohno's nose scrunches up as he thinks about his work.
It takes an hour or so and the sun is much higher in the sky when Ohno sets the paper down. Nino takes that as a sign and lets his shoulders fall, the cape tumbling off of them in the action. Ohno doesn't say anything and Nino doesn't want to break the strange silence.
"When can you come back?" Ohno finally asks and Nino blinks, surprised.
"You want me to come back?" he questions, not quite sure he heard that right. All he did was stand with a cape on, never mind the fact that he was male to begin with. Something is clearly very wrong here.
But Ohno simply nods and asks again.
"I guess I could come back tomorrow morning," Nino thinks aloud. "I open shop for the next few days. I can just get up early and head over. No one would miss me for a few hours."
"That would be great," Ohno smiles and Nino doesn't know what to make of this at all. He feels his head nod and his feet carry him out the door and back home. But for the rest of the day, all he thinks of is that smile.
-------
"Can you talk while you paint?" Nino asks two days later, holding a sword awkwardly in his right hand and turned more towards the wall than the painter in the studio's corner. He doesn't get an answer immediately and Nino figures that that in itself is an answer to the question but he hears a voice a minute or so later.
"Not very well," Ohno admits, tongue sticking out slightly as he adds some red to Nino's shoes. "But I can try. Why? Are you bored already?"
"Oh, no," Nino replies quickly. "I'm not bored." He pauses, wonders how bold he feels. "Just a little curious, I suppose."
Another minute passes.
"Alright then," Ohno concedes. "Ask me whatever you feel."
Nino thinks about it for a little while, not quite sure what to use his free pass on. The sun rises higher in the window and he is reminded of how little time he has in each of these meetings.
"Why me?"
Ohno answers almost immediately.
"I told you, because you're the best."
Nino sighs; although he doesn't know why, part of him wants a different answer.
"But there's nothing special about me. I'm just an ordinary person. I'm just... me."
Ohno fills in the black of Nino's hair and smiles to himself as he gives the face a small mole on its chin.
"And I was the son of a banker growing up. It doesn't matter. Sometimes a person has something and you have something." Ohno pauses and looks up, a curious expression on his face. "What do you actually do? I've never asked."
Nino has to think of the answer to that for a minute before words can form. He'd lost the power of speech for a few seconds in Ohno's eyes.
"I'm the baker's son," he shrugs. "Nothing special."
"I always wanted to be a baker," Ohno confides in him, a small conspiratorial smile on his face. "Still kind of do. Maybe I'll retire someday and run the bakery with you."
Ohno smiles and returns back to the painting, adding strong accents of blue to Nino's cape. Nino doesn't respond, too many images fighting for dominance in his head. He finally settles on a picture of he and Ohno, side by side, apron-clad and taking rolls out of the oven in the warm light of the morning.
Ohno changes the picture just slightly, so that he can capture the sheer warmth of Nino's grin.
-------
"Do you want to see it?" Ohno asks and Nino doesn't think he does. The painting had apparently been finished the night before, Ohno had explained when he got there this morning. He just needed to do a little more contrast and that could be done without the model.
Nino almost says no but Ohno pulls the painting out before Nino can manage words. He is impressed by the clean lines of the sword Painting Nino holds, by the sharp background full of bursts of color, and the deep hues used in the outfit Ohno had forced him into. He is blown away by the clear loving effort put into the reflection of his own face.
"It's wonderful," he breathes and Ohno smiles the kind of smile children wear for an approving parent. The picture is set down against the wall, watching the two of them beat around the bush.
Nino feels the awkwardness of the situation push down around him but Ohno seems to not notice it, still glancing down at the painting. 'This is the end,' Nino thinks and lets out a small sigh.
The sound snaps Ohno out of his reverie. He turns to Nino, an odd look in his eye, and in that moment Nino doesn't know his own name, let alone what Ohno intends.
Lips meet lips and Nino is surprised. His heart jumps into his throat but his mind pushes back down at it. He stumbles backward and Ohno doesn't stop him.
Thoughts come back to Nino slowly, jumbled, and Ohno waits patiently, watching Nino's face for signs of emotion. After a minute or so, Nino opens his mouth.
"Why?" Nino asks, a small syllable that he feels will change his life. Ohno seems unfazed. He smiles.
"I like you," he admits and Nino likes to believe he sees a hint of red on the tips of Ohno's ears.
"You like girls," Nino states, a fact he had always been told, ever since the days Ohno's first works had made their way around the city. 'Isn't he talented, Kazu?' his mother had smiled. 'But you better watch out for your sister. I hear he eats girls for breakfast.'
"They say that, don't they?" Ohno laughs and Nino is confused. A foot steps forward of its own accord and Ohno doesn't miss it, long fingers wrapping around Nino's wrist, pulling him only slightly closer.
"Sometimes people start rumors about themselves," Ohno murmurs and Nino is only just close enough to hear. "Do you know why they do that?"
Nino shakes his head, mind filled with the scent of lavender and oil paints.
"I paint mostly for the church," Ohno states and Nino nods in agreement. "What is the one thing the church would hate more than a painter that had a lot of affairs?"
The wheels turn slowly in Nino's brain, mainly because it is so clouded with hope, but he finally thinks he knows what Ohno is hinting at.
"A painter that has affairs with men?" He asks timidly and Ohno rewards him with a peck on the tip of his nose.
"Just one man," he admits, slightly apprehensive himself, "if he would like to."
Nino is dumbfounded. Ohno watches him with optimistic eyes and, despite his inner confusion, that is all Nino needs. He closes the small gap between them and lands his lips awkwardly on Ohno's. Tongues and hopes meet. Nino is late to work.
-------
Nino isn't always the model anymore. Sometimes Ohno paints Sho or Aiba and sometimes Ohno brings a girl he found in the market. His paintings need varying subjects and he claims that it would get suspicious if suddenly all his saints were sporting feline smiles and adorable moles. Nino rewards him with a kiss on the cheek and a fresh loaf of bread. They are his two favorite things.
After work at the bakery, while slipping his mother some story about a girl across town, Nino sneaks into the studio as the last rays of sunshine cast shadows on the ceiling. Ohno always waits there, sometimes painting, sometimes simply sitting.
"You're pretty."
"You're talented."
"We make a good team."
Nino smiles wider than he thinks he ever has and slips into Ohno's arms, content to spend another night with the city's most infamous artist. His smile widens even more when Ohno promises to make Nino as notorious as he is, sure it will increase bakery business.
And twenty years later, when the strange reclusive artist steps down from his profession to help his lifelong friend with a small bakery in the heart of the city, the women gossip and buy more bread and Nino smiles, knowing that Ohno had been right.
~
I promise I'm working on Agent 22 but writer's block had me writing this. Hopefully chapter 5 of the other will be out soon. Hope you enjoy~!