Obliviousness
A quick drabble written during breaks at work for the Arashi AU Anonmeme.
Will cross post as I have time, and once I make sure most the glaring errors are gone.
Title: Obliviousness
Pairing: Juntoshi
Prompt:Ohno is this gifted graffiti artist who keeps leaving "works of art" on Jun's coffee shop building. Jun should be annoyed but he is in a way flattered, especially when the "art" is about him.
Summary: In which Jun fails to see the obvious
Owning a coffee shop across from the art college meant that one had a lot of business, which was something that Jun liked, as lot, as owner. Nino liked it since the more business they got, the more that he got paid (Jun still was not sure how they had come to that arrangement, but Nino had designed and created a lot of the drinks on the menu, and Jun could only use them IF he received a certain percent of the profits. The problem was, that Nino’s creations were the more popular items on the menu, so he was stuck with him, at least for a while)
The more significant problem was as of late, Jun seemed to be the target or harassment, if you could call it harassment. Having the outside of your establishment tagged by one of the more famous graffiti artists in the city should in theory be flattering. It brought a lot of fame to this shop, and a lot more people came to see the works of art before they were removed and painted over AGAIN, but there was not much that Jun could do about that. The graffiti was against the codes for the neighborhood (an older historical neighborhood that Jun had to go through a lot of trouble in order to get the permits to even open a coffee shop, though it had been worth it) but the neighborhood didn’t like the art as much as he did. But worse than that it was aesthetically displeasing in the neighborhood and glaringly wrong on the walls of the building, and the windows, though the art students seemed to like the juxtaposition of the old and new, and other art student things.
“Tagged again, I see?” A man asked softly as he settled down into a chair at the coffee bar, near where Jun was glaring at the window, his eyebrows prominent and drawn together in a way that everyone present could identify as irritation.
“If you do that for much longer, your face will freeze like that, Jun-pon” Nino cackled from across the room and Jun turned to glare at him, his gaze softening slightly as Aiba and Sho, friends of Nino and regulars of the café, waved at him.
“Yes, again.” Jun sighed, looking at the man, Ohno, a professor at the art school with a sigh.
“I don’t know why he is doing this to me.” Jun’s voice was low and Ohno placed a brief hand on his shoulder.
“All art is created for a reason, MatsuJun.” Ohno used the nickname that he had picked up from Aiba and Sho, one that Jun was not certain that he liked, but it was Ohno, and he had a soft spot for the art teacher. “Perhaps the artist has a message for you, after all, if is rare for so many pieces to be created in the same place.” Ohno slipped away before Jun could reply, joining Nino, Sho and Aiba at the table as Jun continued to glare at the graffiti.
What he is trying to tell me, huh?
Jun sat a long time that day, and the next, looking at the graffiti on his wall, and the students that wandered by to look, and the press, and the art classes. Ohno even brought his class by, and while Jun could hear them, he wasn’t really listening to them. What message could the artist, if one could even call him that, be trying to tell him with a fish, a giant flashy fish with, as Nino called them, bushy eyebrows, like yours, Jun-pon (though Jun liked to think that they were distinguished, and not bushy at all, prominent perhaps, but that was alright). And how, the next time it happened, a fisherman, sitting on clouds holding a fishing pole could possibly be linked. It was sweet, Jun perhaps though, that the artist had a message for him at all, but why him? Why all the time? And what in the world were they trying to say.
When Jun had asked Ohno about it, he had just smiled, and told Jun that art has a different meaning for each person, and it was important what he himself got out of it, and Ohno had perhaps looked a little sad as Jun once again painted over the graffiti,Ohno’s hand lingering on the art there.
“The artist put his heart into this. It is a shame that it keeps getting brushed aside.” He sounded almost sad, and Jun had paused, looking at him.
“I took pictures of it, since the beginning, and I have been studying them, but I am still not sure what they mean. I can see that he cares a lot about his craft, the art is beautiful, but…. I don’t know what they are supposed to tell me.”
“No artist likes to fail.” Ohno had muttered before shuffling off, and Jun found it hard to concentrate all afternoon after that. When he talked with Nino about it later, Nino just hit Jun on the shoulder, shaking his head and calling the other a moron, and telling him to try harder, as he must be blind not to notice. But Jun could not see.
And so he took to staying later at the shop, sometimes spending the night there, trying to catch the culprit in action, and he never could. Sometimes Nino stayed with him, his DS the only sounds, sometimes Ohno, whom he had grown closer to during all of this, oddly, and more often than not the pair would doze off, asleep in the chairs, and no new graffiti would appear on those nights.
It was only nights that Jun was away, engaged in social obligations that he could not get out of, that his café was marked.
Except this time, the fish with the prominent eyebrows was back, surrounded by what could only be described as an homage to the sound of music. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, Bright copper kettles (for coffee in this case), Brown paper packages tied up with strings. And then there was the fisherman, watching the fish with almost sad and longing expression. The fisherman was on one side of a schism, everything else was on another. And the fish, he wasn’t even looking at the fisherman.
It was kind of depressing really. And Jun did not like making people sad, especially people who were, in some weird way he decided, trying to make him happy. Jun was starting to see a theme, which had been the fish and the fisherman, and some sort of synergy between them, but this had broken it, and it hurt.
“I really don’t like this one, Ohno-kun.” Jun sighed, the lights in the shop were out, and they were waiting, as was their habit, for the graffiti artist to strike. “It is so sad, now. The life and vibrancy of the art is gone.”
Ohno nodded, musing over Jun’s words for a moment, and staring at the cup in his hands. “Perhaps he is giving up, convinced that you cannot see what is in front of you.”
“I don’t want him to give up.” Jun’s voice was soft. “It might be troublesome, to have to paint over it each and every time to comply with the neighbor hood standards, but I liked the art, and the relationship between the fish and the fisherman, but that seems to be gone now. They are so distant.” Jun’s voice was soft, and Ohno had to lean closer to hear him.
“The fish cannot seem to see the fisherman due to everything else that is around him.” Ohno agreed, placing the cup on the table, his hand brushing briefly across Jun’s arm. “I should go, I am getting a little too old to sleep in these chairs again tonight.” Ohno chuckled, his eyes crinkling and he shuffled towards the door.
“Night, MatsuJun.” Ohno was gone for several minutes before Jun looked down, only to realize that the other man had left his sketchpad.
“I don’t understand him sometimes.” Jun mumbled to himself, picking up the empty cups and the sketchbook and sliding over to the kitchen to wash them. He tried to set the notebook down nicely on the counter, but since his hands were full of cups, the notebook slipped out of his arm, falling the remainder of the distance to the counter with a thud. As it landed the book feel open, revealing the art inside, but at that point Jun was gone and in the kitchen, washing their dishes and getting ready to close for the night.
“I will never catch him, it seems.” Jun sighed, humming to himself as he washed their cups, them moved out to the counter. His steps slowed as he passed the notebook, and his distinguished eyebrows arched in surprise. “This is what he has been playing at all this time?” Jun mumbled, moving to lock the door to the place, and settling down with a pen to let Ohno know just exactly what Jun thought of his art on Jun’s café.
Once, there was a coffee shop owner, who was the target of vandalism, the walls of his café always graffitied and then painted over by the shop owner, and the cycle never seemed to end. Until one day, art began to appear on the windows of the shop, a chubby cheeked spacy fisherman tangled in his fishing line, wrapped up with a sparkling fish with very distinguished eyebrows. More often than not you would find an art professor in the café, doodling in a notebook, and drinking coffee that the owner would bring to him, when he could not tear his barista away from the barista’s two best friends, or his video games, but it was lucky for the owner that his artist liked coffee any way that Jun made it.
Will cross post as I have time, and once I make sure most the glaring errors are gone.
Title: Obliviousness
Pairing: Juntoshi
Prompt:Ohno is this gifted graffiti artist who keeps leaving "works of art" on Jun's coffee shop building. Jun should be annoyed but he is in a way flattered, especially when the "art" is about him.
Summary: In which Jun fails to see the obvious
Owning a coffee shop across from the art college meant that one had a lot of business, which was something that Jun liked, as lot, as owner. Nino liked it since the more business they got, the more that he got paid (Jun still was not sure how they had come to that arrangement, but Nino had designed and created a lot of the drinks on the menu, and Jun could only use them IF he received a certain percent of the profits. The problem was, that Nino’s creations were the more popular items on the menu, so he was stuck with him, at least for a while)
The more significant problem was as of late, Jun seemed to be the target or harassment, if you could call it harassment. Having the outside of your establishment tagged by one of the more famous graffiti artists in the city should in theory be flattering. It brought a lot of fame to this shop, and a lot more people came to see the works of art before they were removed and painted over AGAIN, but there was not much that Jun could do about that. The graffiti was against the codes for the neighborhood (an older historical neighborhood that Jun had to go through a lot of trouble in order to get the permits to even open a coffee shop, though it had been worth it) but the neighborhood didn’t like the art as much as he did. But worse than that it was aesthetically displeasing in the neighborhood and glaringly wrong on the walls of the building, and the windows, though the art students seemed to like the juxtaposition of the old and new, and other art student things.
“Tagged again, I see?” A man asked softly as he settled down into a chair at the coffee bar, near where Jun was glaring at the window, his eyebrows prominent and drawn together in a way that everyone present could identify as irritation.
“If you do that for much longer, your face will freeze like that, Jun-pon” Nino cackled from across the room and Jun turned to glare at him, his gaze softening slightly as Aiba and Sho, friends of Nino and regulars of the café, waved at him.
“Yes, again.” Jun sighed, looking at the man, Ohno, a professor at the art school with a sigh.
“I don’t know why he is doing this to me.” Jun’s voice was low and Ohno placed a brief hand on his shoulder.
“All art is created for a reason, MatsuJun.” Ohno used the nickname that he had picked up from Aiba and Sho, one that Jun was not certain that he liked, but it was Ohno, and he had a soft spot for the art teacher. “Perhaps the artist has a message for you, after all, if is rare for so many pieces to be created in the same place.” Ohno slipped away before Jun could reply, joining Nino, Sho and Aiba at the table as Jun continued to glare at the graffiti.
What he is trying to tell me, huh?
Jun sat a long time that day, and the next, looking at the graffiti on his wall, and the students that wandered by to look, and the press, and the art classes. Ohno even brought his class by, and while Jun could hear them, he wasn’t really listening to them. What message could the artist, if one could even call him that, be trying to tell him with a fish, a giant flashy fish with, as Nino called them, bushy eyebrows, like yours, Jun-pon (though Jun liked to think that they were distinguished, and not bushy at all, prominent perhaps, but that was alright). And how, the next time it happened, a fisherman, sitting on clouds holding a fishing pole could possibly be linked. It was sweet, Jun perhaps though, that the artist had a message for him at all, but why him? Why all the time? And what in the world were they trying to say.
When Jun had asked Ohno about it, he had just smiled, and told Jun that art has a different meaning for each person, and it was important what he himself got out of it, and Ohno had perhaps looked a little sad as Jun once again painted over the graffiti,Ohno’s hand lingering on the art there.
“The artist put his heart into this. It is a shame that it keeps getting brushed aside.” He sounded almost sad, and Jun had paused, looking at him.
“I took pictures of it, since the beginning, and I have been studying them, but I am still not sure what they mean. I can see that he cares a lot about his craft, the art is beautiful, but…. I don’t know what they are supposed to tell me.”
“No artist likes to fail.” Ohno had muttered before shuffling off, and Jun found it hard to concentrate all afternoon after that. When he talked with Nino about it later, Nino just hit Jun on the shoulder, shaking his head and calling the other a moron, and telling him to try harder, as he must be blind not to notice. But Jun could not see.
And so he took to staying later at the shop, sometimes spending the night there, trying to catch the culprit in action, and he never could. Sometimes Nino stayed with him, his DS the only sounds, sometimes Ohno, whom he had grown closer to during all of this, oddly, and more often than not the pair would doze off, asleep in the chairs, and no new graffiti would appear on those nights.
It was only nights that Jun was away, engaged in social obligations that he could not get out of, that his café was marked.
Except this time, the fish with the prominent eyebrows was back, surrounded by what could only be described as an homage to the sound of music. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, Bright copper kettles (for coffee in this case), Brown paper packages tied up with strings. And then there was the fisherman, watching the fish with almost sad and longing expression. The fisherman was on one side of a schism, everything else was on another. And the fish, he wasn’t even looking at the fisherman.
It was kind of depressing really. And Jun did not like making people sad, especially people who were, in some weird way he decided, trying to make him happy. Jun was starting to see a theme, which had been the fish and the fisherman, and some sort of synergy between them, but this had broken it, and it hurt.
“I really don’t like this one, Ohno-kun.” Jun sighed, the lights in the shop were out, and they were waiting, as was their habit, for the graffiti artist to strike. “It is so sad, now. The life and vibrancy of the art is gone.”
Ohno nodded, musing over Jun’s words for a moment, and staring at the cup in his hands. “Perhaps he is giving up, convinced that you cannot see what is in front of you.”
“I don’t want him to give up.” Jun’s voice was soft. “It might be troublesome, to have to paint over it each and every time to comply with the neighbor hood standards, but I liked the art, and the relationship between the fish and the fisherman, but that seems to be gone now. They are so distant.” Jun’s voice was soft, and Ohno had to lean closer to hear him.
“The fish cannot seem to see the fisherman due to everything else that is around him.” Ohno agreed, placing the cup on the table, his hand brushing briefly across Jun’s arm. “I should go, I am getting a little too old to sleep in these chairs again tonight.” Ohno chuckled, his eyes crinkling and he shuffled towards the door.
“Night, MatsuJun.” Ohno was gone for several minutes before Jun looked down, only to realize that the other man had left his sketchpad.
“I don’t understand him sometimes.” Jun mumbled to himself, picking up the empty cups and the sketchbook and sliding over to the kitchen to wash them. He tried to set the notebook down nicely on the counter, but since his hands were full of cups, the notebook slipped out of his arm, falling the remainder of the distance to the counter with a thud. As it landed the book feel open, revealing the art inside, but at that point Jun was gone and in the kitchen, washing their dishes and getting ready to close for the night.
“I will never catch him, it seems.” Jun sighed, humming to himself as he washed their cups, them moved out to the counter. His steps slowed as he passed the notebook, and his distinguished eyebrows arched in surprise. “This is what he has been playing at all this time?” Jun mumbled, moving to lock the door to the place, and settling down with a pen to let Ohno know just exactly what Jun thought of his art on Jun’s café.
Once, there was a coffee shop owner, who was the target of vandalism, the walls of his café always graffitied and then painted over by the shop owner, and the cycle never seemed to end. Until one day, art began to appear on the windows of the shop, a chubby cheeked spacy fisherman tangled in his fishing line, wrapped up with a sparkling fish with very distinguished eyebrows. More often than not you would find an art professor in the café, doodling in a notebook, and drinking coffee that the owner would bring to him, when he could not tear his barista away from the barista’s two best friends, or his video games, but it was lucky for the owner that his artist liked coffee any way that Jun made it.