Second Sight, Part 3/9: This Is Your Idea Of Fun?
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Part 3: This Is Your Idea Of Fun?
I can't get rid of you
I don't know what to do
I don't even know who is growing on who
'Cos everywhere I go you're there
Can't get you out of my hair
Can't pretend that I don't care - it's not fair
(Growing On Me, The Darkness)
Shuuhei chuckled a lot when he heard that the one-time-maybe thing had turned into a real job. Really chuckled. It got to the point that when Renji was getting ready the following week to head out to lower Seireitei, Shuuhei peered into Renji's bedroom, leaned against his doorframe, and chuckled again.
"Fuck off, Hisagi," Renji finally snapped while putting his jacket on.
"Never said a word," Shuuhei assured, crossing his arms. "His project?"
Renji snarled. "Christ. Why do I still tell you these things?"
"Because you're in awe of my wisdom and I'm your best friend," Shuuhei explained lightly. Renji narrowed his eyes at him.
"I need better friends."
Shuuhei chuckled. Again. "Yeah, maybe you should ask Ichigo."
Now that's ridiculous. "Are you kidding me? The guy's irritating as hell."
"Sounds like a good match for you."
Renji just left.
That day was the first time Ichigo drew him. Renji discovered that experience was totally different from getting photographed. For one thing, Ichigo wore glasses. For another, it felt like Ichigo was doing a case study on him, and knowing he was the guy's final project thingy, Renji figured that was exactly what he was doing. It didn't really make the scrutiny any easier, but if Renji used to be self-conscious about getting looked at so intensely, well, he must have lost that at some point.
That time he drove straight to Ichigo's place, which was somehow less troublesome than getting to the bar. The green, huge-ass building was quite distinguishable. After calling Ichigo for further instructions, he took the elevator to the fifteenth floor and knocked on the third door to the right.
Ichigo answered and led him right into the living room, not bothering to chat. The silence irked Renji. It was a job and all, but he'd never thought-especially not after Ichigo had basically said his degree depended on Renji-that they would maintain some kind of employer-employee atmosphere. Not that he wanted them to be friends, but… well.
The distance was suddenly broken by Ichigo punching Renji's arm, proving that the silence wasn't at all related to work ethics, it was just that Ichigo liked to pretend to be serious when it came to drawing or whatever they were doing that day.
"What the hell?" Renji asked, shoving Ichigo back.
"You were out of it. You need to focus here." Yeah, like that was an excuse to punch someone.
"Fine, I'm focused." He started shucking off his jacket to prove he meant business, and Ichigo took one look at his simple V neckline sweater and made a funny face at his collarbones. "Are you going to take more pictures of me?" Renji asked. Now who isn't focused?
Ichigo averted his stare to somewhere on Renji's right, and when Renji turned to see what was there, he noticed a weirdly large closet next to the bed. "I'll probably take a few, but I want to draw you." Not sketch? That's new. He was about to ask, but Ichigo wasn't finished. "So, I need you to change clothes."
What? "What?"
Ichigo pointed at the closet, looking unimpressed, like it was the most usual request ever. "You heard me."
"How'd you leap between drawing and changing clothes?"
"Well," Ichigo started, sounding almost exasperated, "I won't paint you, and I figured that if it's gonna be black and white anyway, we might as well go for classic clothes."
Renji had to hand it to him, it almost made sense. He doubted his own baggy jeans would be very classic. "Like what, suspenders and a vest?"
Ichigo snorted, and walked around his bed to open the closet. Renji followed. Holy crap.
There was a whole section filled with… well, Renji simply categorized them as costumes. Yes, a couple of gray vests, but also top hats, giant frockcoats and scarves, leather breeches and boots, ascot ties, and… Renji cleared his throat. He was pretty sure that was a harness-as in, bondage harness-not meant for public wear no matter which century you lived in. He raised an eyebrow and stared at Ichigo. "What's this pervy shit, then?"
Ichigo groaned, immediately looking at the harness. "Urahara sent those once he found out I'm interested in photographing people. Said the old stuff would make things interesting so people might give my shit a second look."
Renji snorted. "I'm beginning to like this Urahara guy."
"Fuck that, don't." Ichigo sounded the most horrified he'd ever heard him. Renji just laughed.
"What do you want me to wear? And if you say that harness-"
"No, no, for fuck's sake." Renji just looked as Ichigo started pulling stuff out. A short brown scarf, a black winter coat with a gray lining that would probably reach Renji's knees, and finally burgundy trousers. He took them as Ichigo handed them over, tempted to just toss them on the bed and contemplate whether they would even fit him.
Ichigo made a sudden noise and dove back to the closet, picking out a belt the same color as the scarf, and an honest-to-god fedora hat thing with straps instead of a band. Ichigo smirked at the items like his ability to find shit in his own closet was amazing, and then gave them to Renji too.
There was one item obviously missing. Renji cleared his throat. Ichigo looked at him in confusion for a moment before saying offhandedly, "Oh, your sweater will be fine. I doubt white would clash with anything, which obviously worried you."
"Dickhead," Renji muttered, and then dropped everything he'd been holding and started opening his fly. Ichigo looked away from him and shut the closet abruptly. Renji hadn't foreseen that reaction, and was a bit amused.
He was wondering what else he could do to make Ichigo feel awkward when Ichigo said, "Come in when you're ready," and sidestepped Renji into the studio.
He wondered if Ichigo had any other dress up parties planned, because this thing was weird to get into. The pants were a little tighter than Renji usually liked to wear, and the coat was just heavy. He fumbled a bit with the scarf and belt, and the hat was too entertaining to twirl between his fingers to actually put on. Renji always had that problem with hats.
The moment he stepped into the studio, Ichigo cursed, called him a moron, and came right up to him. Apparently the sweater was supposed to be tucked into the pants, the scarf was supposed to look fluffier or some shit and go under the collar of his shirt, and "Hats go on your head, Renji, but I guess you wouldn't know considering you don't have any use for your head anyway".
After that speech, Ichigo had no qualms about fixing all the problems he'd named himself. For a guy who wouldn't look at Renji in his underwear, he was all too willing to pull at his shirt and touch his chest with that weirdly nice-feeling scarf. At least he let Renji tuck the shirt in all on his own.
Once they were done, Ichigo shoved Renji in front of the mirror in the studio. Well. Am I supposed to be a pimp?
It looked… vintage, and he had a feeling Ichigo could tell him in exactly which era non-pimps wore it, if he asked. In this era, though-"Am I supposed to be a pimp?"
In the mirror, Renji saw Ichigo rolling his eyes and turning to the desk to gather some things. "You're supposed to be interesting," he said over his shoulder.
Right. "Should I unbraid my hair?" Renji couldn't believe he needed permission to keep his braid. He really hadn't been bossed around in six months, and it felt especially fucked up when a scrawny guy he barely knew did it.
"No, it's okay," Ichigo answered.
Good. I wouldn't have done it anyway. Ha.
Renji shook his head and put his hands in the pockets of the oversized coat, examining his reflection again. He guessed he looked kind of cool. He tilted his hat so it covered one eye. Yes, if he were a pimp, he'd be the most amazing of them all.
"You ready?" Ichigo asked, putting next to his canvas a tin container with five pencils, three sticks Renji guessed were charcoal, a weirdly shaped eraser, and some paper towels.
"Will it take a month to finish?" Renji asked, finally turning around to look at the real Ichigo instead of his reflection.
Ichigo smirked up at him from the canvas. "I'm the fastest in my class."
He snorted. "You say that to all the guys?"
Ichigo's response wasn't to curse or scowl, it was to take off his shirt. Renji stared, confused at both the action and the fact that he was right-under all that, the kid was ripped. Apparently under the T-shirt he wore a white tank, and Renji was a bit impressed by his biceps. He had nothing on Renji, obviously, but it was still remarkable for an art student.
"Charcoal is messy," Ichigo said before Renji even asked. Oh, well, yes, that makes sense. Rukia had once tried to get Renji to open up to the whole Chappy obsession by making him draw that damn bunny on her wall, and all it had resulted in was dirty hands, dirtier shirts, and one ugly-ass bunny.
"And I don't say that to all the guys," Ichigo added as an afterthought.
Renji nodded, and watched when Ichigo wiped his hands on his clothes before taking something from the magical never-running-out-of-room desk. A pair of eyeglasses with pink frames. Renji just… laughed, he couldn't help it. They didn't look particularly terrible or anything, but they just looked bizarrely gay on Ichigo.
Before Renji could comment, Ichigo grabbed one of the charcoal sticks from the container and pierced him with a look that meant 'say anything about the glasses and get stabbed'. When Renji didn't say anything, Ichigo instructed, "Stand in front of the wall."
Renji did as he was told under Ichigo's observing eyes. He really hoped Ichigo was true to his word about being fast, because after four weeks of morphing into a couch potato he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand for many hours. Plus it was getting hot, probably because of the coat. He wondered how pimps did it.
Before he even settled into a position-pose-he already heard the scratch of charcoal on the textured paper. To his honest surprise, Ichigo really was fast. His eyes snapped from the canvas to Renji and back quickly enough to get what he wanted without making Renji more than mildly uncomfortable.
He tried following Ichigo's movements-his right hand flying with the charcoal stick and his left one clutching the eraser and kneading it distractedly-but the canvas stand was in the way and in the end Renji ended up just watching his face.
Ichigo was worrying his lower lip and his eyes were narrowed and incredibly concentrated, that spark of determination shining in him again, like he'd gone off on a quest or something, not standing in his house and drawing someone. It was enough to keep Renji entertained for a while.
He tried standing still, but with Ichigo looking so engrossed, he was getting impatient to do something too. It must have been half an hour or more, because Renji was bored enough to get weirdly excited whenever Ichigo looked at him and not the canvas.
Fuck it. Renji pulled his right hand out of his pocket and ran it over the rim of his hat, putting more weight on his left leg than the right. If Ichigo was upset because of the shift, he didn't say it. If anything, he just seemed surprised when he next looked at Renji, like he hadn't even noticed. Renji wondered if he'd listen to him.
"I thought it'd be more glamorous. I could fall asleep," he complained. Ichigo stopped biting his lip, which made Renji think he was going to say something, but in the end Ichigo put the stick down and measured something with both his hands. For a full minute that was the only sign that he had even heard Renji. And that was irritating.
Finally, Ichigo looked up. "Want music?"
Renji raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected Ichigo to actually allow him to move. "Sure. But if your taste sucks I'm gonna tell you."
"Didn't anybody ever tell you not to piss off the person whose place you're at?" Ichigo snorted, and gestured with his head toward the desk. Renji took the hint and went over there, looking for any kind of-oh, speakers for an iPod. They were standing on some stack, and Renji swore it hadn't been there ten minutes ago.
"Maybe you should have been told not to piss off Renji Abarai," he threw back.
"Yeah, I'm terrified," Ichigo said, and Renji could almost hear him smirking. He clicked his tongue and turned the iPod on, picking the first song that he saw. He fully expected punk rock crap to play, but instead he heard pianos and violins, a weird instrumental piece by a band he'd never heard of. It wasn't especially soothing-if anything it was creepy and jarring-but Renji understood how it might get Ichigo in the mood considering jarring was his art.
Well, it might keep Renji occupied for another hour. He nodded and went back to the wall. Ichigo didn't look at him again, instead staring at the canvas and apparently working hard with the paper towel.
"Are you erasing everything?" Renji asked, irked by the thought.
"No, moron," Ichigo replied without looking up. "Refining. I'm blending the vine charcoal to finish the sketch before I start drawing with the compressed charcoal pencils."
Before Renji could say anything, Ichigo dropped the paper towel to the floor and switched to his finger by the looks of it. A few moments later he took a step back, wiped his hands on the tank and removed his glasses. He stared at the canvas and then at Renji, and by the smirk Renji knew he was pleased with his sketch.
"I didn't think you'd be so fun to draw."
Renji barked a laugh. "This is your idea of fun? You looked like you were shitting bricks over it."
"Bitch. You'll see." He placed the glasses back on his nose and fished in the equipment container until he pulled out a pencil. To Renji it looked identical to the other four, but he didn't ask. For a few minutes. Being this bored, he felt like he had to ask things even if he didn't really want to know.
Ichigo indulged him for the most part. He explained that there are harder and softer pencils, that the hard ones are actually lighter, and that the soft ones created the contrast and the black he needed for the coat, hat and outlines. Then he just started saying odd things like how he should have started with something simpler like the tattoos on Renji's collarbones, or that he'd have to touch his face at some point because he had awesome bones or something. He said all of that while drawing and frowning, so Renji guessed he wasn't really aware of speaking. It was still weird.
At some point he stopped talking and crouched in front of the canvas, mostly disappearing from view. Renji huffed and stared out the window. It was completely dark, so he must have been there for three hours or so. This time it didn't affect their session-the lights were on and Renji probably wouldn't have noticed the sunset, even though he was facing it. He'd been looking at Ichigo rather than the window.
The current song was a bit louder and faster-paced than the previous ones, this time having a deep-voiced male lead murmuring things into the room. A female singer chimed in at what Renji imagined was the chorus, and he ended up tapping his foot to the rhythm only to be yelled at by Ichigo to not distract him.
Renji didn't even yell anything in response, though he really wanted to. Something about breaking those damn pencils and smothering Ichigo with a paper towel. Instead he just said, "Fuck that," and sat down on the leather couch, groaning at the much needed back support. He spread his legs and leaned back, the leather worn out enough to not make squeaky sounds. It was comfy.
He grinned when Ichigo hissed, and just couldn't stop himself. "Did I ruin the drawing?"
"No, I've already finished the detail in the trousers, but you're still an asshole."
Renji laughed, taking off his hat and running his fingers over the rim again. "Does that mean you're nearly done?"
"I need to blend the charcoal to soften the shadows under the hat, then add the details and highlights to your braid, and then another dark layer on the hat and coat." He worked while he was speaking, switching pencils and erasers at the blink of an eye and swapping at random with new paper towels.
"How much time will that take?"
Ichigo huffed again. "I take it you're in a hurry to get home?"
Renji was sure Ichigo didn't sound hurt, just annoyed, but he still felt a tiny bit shitty. "Yeah, but I also wanna see it already."
Ichigo's eyes snapped up to him just for a moment, and this time Renji knew it wasn't for the drawing, it was because of what he'd said. "Fifteen minutes, tops."
On the comfy couch time went by much faster. Ichigo was paying all of his attention to the canvas, and while it had annoyed Renji a bit at first, by then he just leaned back and listened to the indistinguishable music, pulling at the straps on the hat. He should make Ichigo draw him only seated in the future.
The future. The thought was… well, to schedule drawing sessions with an artist made him feel like a real art model. It was new, but it wasn't all that bad. The apartment was nice, the couch was comfy, and even the music was acceptable. Plus, Ichigo. He was still annoying, but Renji liked that about him. It sounded creepy, but Ichigo being annoying and bitching at him was the only thing that didn't make this experience emasculating.
He wasn't sure how much time had gone by-three songs, maybe-when he heard the clatter of the tin container being put back on the desk. He cracked his eyes open and saw Ichigo wiping his hands furiously on the already dirtied tank and staring back at him. Being stared at without his knowledge should have felt worse than that.
Renji only raised an eyebrow. "You're done?"
Ichigo frowned and looked at the canvas again, once with the glasses and once without them, like he'd done while drawing. Renji wondered how he didn't get any charcoal on the lenses. Must be magical like the desk.
"Go ahead," he said, before he crashed on the couch next to Renji. Really crashed, with a long-suffering grunt and his eyes closing like he was exhausted. Renji realized it must have been way more taxing for Ichigo than it had been for him.
He didn't need to be told twice. He jumped to his feet, took a second to admire the way the coat floated around him, all amazing-ness, and then went around the canvas stand.
And holy shit, there he was, standing there with his hands in his pockets, his knee bent and his hat tilted to cover one of his eyes. It was so indescribably odd to look at a drawn version of himself staring back at him with one dark eye. The amount of detail was amazing for just a few charcoal pencils and an eraser-the creases in the pants shadowed, the lining of his coat looking so much like the actual material Renji was tempted to touch it. Shit, even his braid looked like a lot of work had been put into it. Still, the most remarkable thing was his face. Other then being a spitting image of him, it was also almost like you could tell what he was thinking.
"Man," he said, not even sure how to continue.
"I know, I know. Praise me for I am a superior being." Ichigo sounded so sarcastic Renji could just imagine him waving his hands in exaggerated self-importance.
"I wouldn't go that far, but this looks great," he said, honestly.
"Don't even breathe on you the wrong way. If you smear it I'm gonna make you stand there for a few more hours, I don't even care if it turns into a sleepover."
Renji did not want to test that theory. He stepped back as stealthily as he could until he felt the desk hitting the backs of his thighs, and then carefully went around the stand and back to the couch.
After some thought, he plopped next to Ichigo.
Ichigo still looked tired, but his eyes were open and fixed on Renji. His legs were folded against his chest like he was this close to cuddling up into himself and falling asleep. The thought made Renji chuckle, but he figured that if Ichigo could relax, why couldn't he?
He spread his legs again and sank into the couch, finally pulling off his hair tie and starting to unbraid his hair. He was a startled by a noise next to him, and turned his head to find Ichigo staring wide-eyed at his hair, of all things.
Did he just gasp over my hair? Renji did them both a favor and catalogued it in his head as a manly grunt of being overworked.
He finished and spread his hair on his shoulders, then put his arms on the backrest and stared ahead. They'd done good work, it might not hurt chilling out afterwards. It wasn't like he'd do anything different if he were at home. Well, he'd probably wear something less ridiculous.
He was brought out of his thoughts by a slight touch, and smacked Ichigo's hand away in a split second out of instinct. "Dude, did you just try to stroke my hair?"
Ichigo shrugged, not looking very remorseful about reaching out and touching another guy's hair without permission. Renji got his fair share of looks thanks to his hair-more often than not followed by the question of which color he'd used when he'd dyed it-but people messing with it made him feel kind of girly.
"It's very red," Ichigo pointed out, most helpfully. Renji wondered if spending all his energy on drawing made him stupider.
"Do you always touch red things?" Renji asked. He wasn't that upset, to be honest, he just made a mental note to talk to Ichigo about boundaries. Not that you're an expert, his brain supplied.
"It distracted me, shut up already," Ichigo muttered, turning around to glare at the wall. Renji was pretty sure he was pouting.
"Let's say it was to celebrate," Renji attempted. He didn't know why he was trying to pacify Ichigo when he wasn't trying to annoy him. Whatever. It was a celebration.
Ichigo started smiling, which was all the thanks Renji knew he was going to get. He slipped his hand from the backrest and socked Ichigo's shoulder in a friendly way. In turn, Ichigo kicked Renji's thigh with his foot, still on the couch.
Renji nodded. Definitely manly.
He was about to go for a fist bump to seal the deal when Ichigo let out a heavy breath, and Renji somehow knew the calm-hanging-out moment was over. Just as well. Ichigo wasn't fit to be his friend, as he'd explained to Shuuhei.
"Will you manage to find your car?" Ichigo asked, smirking.
Renji laughed. "I'll manage going down the elevator, yeah." Hands on his knees, he finally got to his feet.
Ichigo looked up at him, a sort-of smile on his lips. "So no more praise?"
Rolling his eyes, Renji walked over to pat Ichigo's head, twice. He was surprised the spiky hair didn't cut into him or something. "Very decent, Ichigo."
Ichigo promptly shook his head to get rid of Renji's hand, his eyes suddenly taunting. "You mean pretty."
"Oh, shut the hell up." Renji shucked the giant coat and tossed it on Ichigo's face, leaving the studio to change back into his normal clothes.
Ichigo never followed him, but when Renji opened the front door he heard him yell from the studio, "See you next week! Don't forget your cash, moron!"
Bitch.
*
Ichigo was so fucking pleased with the stupid drawing that he could have jerked off and possibly sang and danced through the night. If Ichigo did that sort of thing.
He was pleased with it enough to fall asleep on the couch with the lights on for fifteen minutes, before he woke himself up and went to find a spray can of varnish. If that drawing got smudged they were having a motherfucking sleepover, he didn't care if Renji was already in his car.
He was so ridiculously pleased with it that the next day he was still pleased with it. He woke up contented, he thought about the drawing during his afternoon class, he stored it with extra care, he made an oath to his soul to present it in his final college exhibition, and then he was filled with the urge to send someone a retarded text message, so he went with Renji.
He guessed they were kind of cool. They had sort of hung out the previous day, and Renji was a pretty awesome art model. It was new for both of them, and Ichigo hadn't been lying when he'd said he hadn't known it'd be fun to draw Renji. He had known he would look hot in those vintage clothes, but damn, he hadn't counted on him posing well.
He remembered something about Renji being a bodyguard, so he guessed he must have been trained to stand still and all that, but how he still maintained that fierce expression and air about him, and how he helped transform it into this kickass drawing, Ichigo didn't know.
So yeah, they worked together well enough to not get too bored and to get great drawings out of the arrangement. The session was definitely something to tell Urahara about that morning.
It wasn't really a friendship, they'd only met like four times, but Ichigo was fairly confident Renji was a guy worth texting. He was also the only one who would know what the hell Ichigo was talking about, so that was a plus too.
He went for a subtle, 'Dude, it's still awesome', and then tried to ignore his phone before he'd regret sending stupid shit to Renji. The problem was that avoiding Renji, the guy he'd only met four times, was just not happening. Ichigo's wall was full of post-it notes that reminded him of Renji, his iPod made him think of Renji's surly comments, and when he turned on his laptop there Renji was, the same way he'd been staring at him from the Photoshop window ever since the previous week.
That guy was getting under Ichigo's skin incredibly fast, he'd give him that. Then his cell phone buzzed, and Ichigo all but leaped to reach it.
'obvsly, shithead, we worked on it for 50 hrs.' And he could hear that sentence ringing loud and clear in Renji's voice (only without the abbreviations, those were weird for grown men to use), which was weird given they'd only met four times, but whatever, Renji answered and things were cool. Not that he'd doubted they would be, of course. Ichigo had never been accused of having insecurities-being awkward, yes, but not in the coy way that made girls want to snuggle with him, which was fine by him anyway.
'Stop whining like a bitch and get ready for next week', he sent back, not even having to imagine Renji's reaction given Renji was glaring at him already from the picture on his laptop.
'fuck that, u wanna draw me again?'
He wasn't sure exactly how the first part of the message related to the second part, but to be honest, he didn't really care because if he wanted to draw Renji, he was going to draw Renji.
'Yeah. No costumes, promise', he typed, not really meaning it. It depended on his mood, really. Though after seeing a glimpse of the tattoos Renji had on his fucking collarbones, Ichigo had a pretty clear idea of what to draw next. He had been right-charcoals were perfect for Renji.
Another buzz interrupted his thoughts. 'i wont let u dress me up neway'.
Ichigo snorted, and didn't really think before sending, 'You make it sound so gayer than it is'.
About a minute passed, during which Ichigo did not obsess about what he'd sent, before he got a short reply: 'hater'.
And Ichigo just laughed for a moment, because what the fuck, how'd it come to that? 'STFU', he sent back, sinking into his couch.
He didn't really expect Renji to reply, so he went back to his Photoshop and tried to finish his Digital Arts assignment, due in two days. The problem was that all he wanted was to draw Renji again. Ichigo always got attached to his projects, and it used to be completely normal, but his project being a person made it all feel a bit less normal and creepier.
The other problem was that he couldn't exactly draw a person on demand, and even though he'd probably manage setting up meetings with Renji more than once a week, he really wouldn't be able to afford it.
His phone buzzed in his lap, surprising him for a moment. He was even more surprised by the text message itself.
'what r u doing?' Renji asked, like it was casual or something. For a moment Ichigo considered yelling at Renji for interrupting him, but, well. I started it.
'HW. You?'
The reply came weirdly fast. 'lame. i'm @ party. roommate made me'.
Well, being drunk explained the abbreviations. Ichigo probably should have asked why Renji was at a party at ten p.m., or why he was texting Ichigo while partying, or why he'd called him lame, but before he knew it, he’d sent, 'gay for each other roommates?', and it was scary how much it concerned Ichigo.
Apparently it didn't really concern Renji, because there wasn't a dramatic pause or anything. 'NOYB man'. Which was kind of true, it really was none of his business, but he was pretty sure not being flat-out denied was amazingly good.
Because, okay, the attraction might have been mostly replaced by artistic fascination like he'd thought it would, but Renji was still fucking hot so it was pretty important to know if they batted for the same team.
Yet Renji gave no clue. 'You suck' was all Ichigo had to say about that.
'g2g', Renji replied, which Ichigo thought was nice of him since he could have just not answered and tormented Ichigo for the rest of the night. Not that answering him did much good, since now Ichigo's curiosity was piqued, again, and he just stared at his phone like an idiot. Because Renji just randomly asked him what he was doing.
This arrangement with Renji was not going as planned, but whatever it was morphing into, Ichigo was always up for a challenge.
*
Renji may have started texting Ichigo regularly. It didn't feel as odd as it should have, and Ichigo was the one that had started it, anyway. Renji still didn't consider them friends friends, but Ichigo was insane and kind of hilarious.
He was pretty sure Ichigo wasn't aware of it, being all mad and serious, but sometimes he'd go for a motivational speech or tell a completely serious story and just crack Renji up.
Of course, there was the intentionally stupid shit, like the text Renji'd received that morning.
'Dude, weirdest shit ever. You & me riding a giant snake'.
Yes, Renji definitely started that day brighter than usual. He thought his reply was distinctly appropriate, too. 'WTF? Are you high?'
He probably would have preferred Ichigo being high to the reply he did get. 'No man it was a dream. You wore a pink fluffy coat.'
Seriously, what the fuck. '?? GTFO, I don't wanna be in your sex dreams'.
After a few minutes of silence, Renji decided it was time to get out of bed. As usual, he kind of rolled over until his feet hit the floor, and then stood up and opened the window. Renji's room had always been mostly empty. His childhood had taught him that things came and went sometimes unbearably easily, and so he only held on to the things that really mattered, like food, warm clothes, and his friends.
Instead of mementos flooding his room, there were weights, a few magazines, burger wrappers and other crap, exactly two pictures, and his cheap laptop. It had been fine when he'd had a job and spent most of his time outside anyway, but after he lost it it was kind of depressing, so he unofficially moved into the living room.
Of course, he still went out of the house every once in a while, and still slept in his bedroom to not disturb Shuuhei too much. He shuffled across the room to his closet and changed to go for his run, when he heard a text message coming in. He grinned and went back to grab his phone.
'As if I want you in my sex dreams'.
Like he said, the kid was funny.
Renji put on a loose shirt before typing back, 'you're trying to seduce me over the phone'. Because it was true, and he could imagine Ichigo spluttering over his phone like a schoolgirl trying to come up with an answer to that.
In the meantime, he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then checked if Shuuhei was still asleep. His roommate wasn't even in his bedroom, so Renji guessed he hadn't come home from the party last night.
Almost a week ago Renji had actually lifted himself from the couch to go to the party Shuuhei had insisted would be incredible beyond belief. Shuuhei was friends with a guy who was deep inside the Vaizard Group, the city's biggest club-owners network, so he always got in the craziest parties Seireitei had to offer, and sometimes he took Renji with him. Lately it was more like kidnapped Renji with him, but at the last party Renji had gotten so much shit for texting Ichigo instead of doing more shots that last night he’d just refused to go with Shuuhei.
He didn't really regret staying at the apartment. Actually, it was probably good he hadn't gone out, because if he'd been drunk while reading about Ichigo dreaming about himself and Renji on a giant serpent, who knows what might have happened.
He went back to his bedroom to find his shoes when he remembered to check his phone, and saw that Ichigo had already replied. 'Am not'. It was incredibly witty, and gave Renji so much room for ribbing he wasn't even sure what to say, so he decided to let it go for now.
He sent a quick, 'whatever, see you tomorrow', put on his shoes, and left the apartment. He had a whole day to figure out how to torture Ichigo, anyway.
*
"When we first met I thought you said you'd paint me," Renji whined like a bitch, and Ichigo didn't even glare at him as he set up the clean textured paper on a canvas on the canvas stand. The whole process was kind of unnecessary, and most of his class just put their paper on a desk and sat down to work, but Ichigo had never been able to sit still when he drew, and screw smudge danger.
"I'm gonna stick to charcoal for now," he told Renji as firmly as he could.
"But that way you're mostly just gonna draw my tattoos." It sounded more you-are-responsible-for-everything-that-is-wrong-with-the-world than I-know-you're-insanely-attracted-to-my-tattoos-and-will-probably-never-get-laid, and Ichigo thanked all fuck for that because he might have blushed if it hadn't sounded neutral.
Saying no shit, Sherlock would have conveyed his thoughts on what Renji'd said, but he decided to go for something that wouldn't reveal too much of how he felt about Renji's tattoos. He cleared his throat, fascinated with the vine charcoal he'd used a million times. "As I've said, your tattoos are very artsy."
Renji chuckled from the couch. "You can just say they're amazing."
Ichigo would have been happy to tell Renji to get over himself because they weren't that awesome, even though they really fucking were, but that wouldn't have lead very well to his next question. He took a deep breath. "Out of pure artistic interest-"
"Yeah, I have more," Renji answered, causing Ichigo to snap his head up and stare at Renji. The bastard seemed smug, like he knew exactly what that information would do to Ichigo. Which was wreak havoc in his mind. But there was no way Renji could have really known that, right?
Not that it mattered, because Renji had more tattoos. Out of pure artistic interest, Ichigo asked, "Can I see?"
Out of pure asshole-ness, Renji said, "No."
"Indulge me?" Ichigo pretended it didn't sound like a plea. Being stealthy about wanting to draw Renji naked was much easier when they were just texting each other.
"No," Renji repeated. He even crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised an eyebrow, like he was challenging Ichigo to take his shirt off himself or something. Which he totally could have, by the way.
"You're being stupid." He really did just want to see the extent of the tattoos and to figure out for himself if they were worth drawing, it wasn't like he was going to jump Renji the moment he took off his clothes. Ichigo wasn't really desperate.
Only that he was. "Look, we said I wouldn't dress you up, but I can't think of a reason for you to be afraid to-"
"For fuck's sake, fine, you relentless prick."
Ichigo was fully prepared for a victory cheer, but he figured it could wait until after Renji finished standing up, glaring at him, throwing his obscenely colorful jacket on the couch, and then lifting his T-shirt over his head and tossing it away too and oh, fuck. "Oh, fuck," he said aloud before thinking.
He figured it was probably a good response to the revelation that, yes, Renji had tattoos all over his torso, yes, they were incredible, much like his torso actually, and yes, that probably all fit into Ichigo's style.
The awkward part was that he was forced to actually resist the urge to touch him. He'd drilled it into his head to be hyperaware of that particular urge ever since the hair incident the other day, but it was fucking hard, and the way he was looking at Renji was probably leaving a mark anyway.
It felt alright to stare, though, given the fact it really was out of artistic interest. The first thing he did wasn't to appreciate Renji's body per se, but to admire the beautiful, complicated lines his tribal tattoos made. It was… controlled chaos. No, it was intentional, not chaotic at all. It was a tamed beast.
The attractive symmetry was interrupted by a barely-noticeable mass right under Renji's shoulder, and this time Ichigo really couldn't resist taking a closer look. He walked up to Renji and stared at the skin right under his shoulder, differently textured under the ink…
It suddenly hit him. It was scar tissue.
Renji backed away from him a bit, letting on he was uncomfortable, but Ichigo didn't feel like apologizing or backing off. He looked up into Renji's eyes, and tried to find a subtle way to ask.
"That's a scar," he said, trying not to kick himself. He figured it might get Renji to explain without too much coaxing from him.
"You know, you can't tell from lookin' at you, but you really are a prodigy."
No such luck. Ichigo frowned, but he really wasn't going to let it go. Renji was full of surprises, and if 'interesting' was what Ichigo was going for, well, his taste in picking strangers to model for him kicked serious ass.
"It looks like…" He worried his lower lip. He was aware that he talked a lot when he drew, most of the time cursing, and sometimes in crisis cool monologues came to him, but normally? Ichigo was pretty shitty with words.
Sometimes he thought that was why he'd become an artist. No real need to talk or interact with anyone. No need to try and get his message across. The ones who were able to get it got it, and those who couldn't were lame in his book anyway. He sensed that about Renji now, when the redhead gave him a hard look and crossed his arms-which were muscled and tattooed and amazing-again.
Ichigo had known there was something under the overbearing friendliness, and, like after the first time Ichigo had taken Renji's pictures, all he wanted to do was jab at it. "Is it-?"
"It's from a bullet," Renji finally helped.
Ichigo raised his eyebrows in surprise. Renji was looking back at him, so it must have not been the scar that bothered him, but rather talking about it. On the off chance he was wrong, Ichigo decided to push. "From your old job?"
"Nah, that's the one on my back."
Ichigo swallowed. There were two scars to upset the symmetry, and Ichigo was so thrilled by the idea it was embarrassing. It was too hard to avoid turning Renji around and inspecting his back immediately.
He went back to looking at the scar under his shoulder, wondering how much it had hurt and knowing by the density of the tissue that it had happened a long time ago, which raised the questions of when and how and did it hurt, but Renji interrupted him.
"Don't look at it like it's fascinating, god."
And suddenly it struck Ichigo how fucked up it was to just stand there and stare at the scar. He immediately looked up, hoping Renji could tell he was sincere when he said, "I'm sorry, man."
He knew that trying to explain might fuck it up even more, but it would be better than just coming off as a total freak. "I saw plenty of scars when I was growing up, but yours… break the pattern of the tattoos, fuck up my symmetry. I… like that." He was an artsy freak.
Renji's eyes widened a bit, softer than before. Then again, Ichigo was shit at guessing this stuff, so Renji might as well have been getting ready to throw a punch.
"You like my scars?" Renji asked, but it sounded more like he was insulting Ichigo than feeling awkward, which, given the circumstances, was very good.
"You know what, Renji? You took off your shirt, so deal with it." It probably would have sounded more impressive if he were able to step back from Renji's body. Well, he guessed many things would have been easier to do if he were able to do that, things like concentrating and shutting up.
"Fine," Renji said, sounding resigned. "I'll try getting shot more often."
Ichigo snorted. Sarcasm was definitely better than anger. "I hear swords can give you pretty cool scars, too."
Renji was smirking now. "You ever see any of those?"
Right, I didn't explain. Moron. "My dad runs a private clinic next to our house, so when I went there I saw some pretty ugly shit."
"Must have been almost as traumatic as getting shot," Renji said, taunting him now, and Ichigo felt better for some reason.
"Did I say I liked your scar? I meant that it's hideous."
Renji didn't look like he believed him, and even unfolded his arms to tone down the back off vibe. "Just shut up and draw me like you were begging to."
Ichigo huffed, and didn't look at Renji's now exposed chest so determinedly he almost believed he wasn't interested in it. "I don't beg. Stand in front of the window."
"Right."
Renji walked by him, and Ichigo turned around to make sure he did as he was told, but then he saw Renji's back and he could pretty much hear the conversation that would take place if he opened his mouth ("Dude, your back." "What about it?" "It's awesome." "I know." "Can I paint more tattoos on you?" "No." "Can I at least pin you down on your stomach and fuck you into next week?") so he bit his lip to make sure it stayed shut.
But seriously, Renji's back was awesome. The tattoos were more elaborate there, fucking masterpieces-straight, jagged lines that were connected by thinner strokes and sprouted shorter lines. Somehow they fitted together in a perfectly symmetrical pattern, running down each of Renji's shoulder blades, until only two lines remained on either side of his spine, spiking twice like the zigzag tattoos on his neck, only these were pointing toward the small of Renji's back and his ass and Renji's back was awesome and that was as far as Ichigo was willing to take it.
With any other person he'd just stare at the scapular muscles, but with Renji he was closer to gazing and probably weeping, because those muscles were as toned as his damn abs and biceps and Ichigo had no idea how a person could work the fuck out like that. The tattoos looked so well on them it was like Renji was born with the ink, and the light from the window caused just the right amount of shadows and highlights, and yeah, Ichigo could have wept. If Ichigo did that sort of thing.
He tore his eyes away and grabbed from under his desk a knee-high, rectangular plastic block that looked like a brick more than anything. He then approached Renji, trying not to look at him even though he knew Renji was staring at him-or maybe the block, Renji was for some reason fascinated with his desk and stuff near it-and carefully moved the canvas stand farther from the window so Renji would have room to settle down.
"What's that?" Renji asked when Ichigo kicked the block until it was perfectly placed in the middle of the square of sunlight on the floor.
"I want you to sit on that and face the window," he said, settling behind the canvas stand and picking out a vine stick. Only then did he allow himself to look at Renji again. His back was still incredible. He was looking back at Ichigo over his shoulder, seeming a bit confused.
"You want to draw my back?" he asked, like he didn't tattoo his back just to make Ichigo want to draw it and possibly spend hours touching it.
"Yes. Oh, and put your hands on the edges of the block so the light would hit your upper arms too."
Renji looked conflicted then, and Ichigo didn't know if it was because of the following orders thing, sitting down, or the idea of having to stare out a window for the following few hours. Ichigo put some music on, hoping it would solve at least some of those problems.
Renji still cursed him a bit for being a bossy fuck, but Renji was supposed to do that, and to be challenging and brisk and annoying and aggressive and-Renji turned his back to him fully and Ichigo stopped thinking again.
That one was fun.
On that night, after Renji had put his shirt back on and left, letting Ichigo stare at his own drawing and possibly be more pleased with it than he had been with the last one, Ichigo finally came up with a tentative motif for his project.
Red. He even hung the word up in a Post-it note, using his fountain pen. He thought the fancy people would admire such a bold name for a collection of mostly black and white (so far), and to him it just made perfect sense. He'd been taught in one of his early classes with Professor Zangetsu that red symbolized strong emotions. The color of blood and fire represented life and vitality and all the things that Renji made him think about and somehow represented.
Ichigo spent the next half hour googling what red symbolized, and came up with a list, all the words hung up in Post-it notes by then: energy, passion, love, lust, strength, heat, aggression, danger, fire, blood, violence, courage, sin.
Finally, he looked back at his drawing and figured, yeah, I can work with that.
*
'I have an awesome idea.'
'best of luck, man'.
'It involves you.'
'the project thingy or drinks?'
'How about both?'
'as long as you're paying'.
When Ichigo sent back, 'Yeah, whatever,' Renji was finally able to call him a friend. It would have been rude not to, considering Ichigo indeed bought both of them a beer, and Renji ended up drinking some of Ichigo's too.
It turned out to be kind of fun to hang out with Ichigo. Renji had somehow been talked into driving to the lower Seireitei bar again ("Fuck no." "I said I'd pay for the drinks, you useless idiot." "Fine, but your idea better be worth it."), and by the time he'd found his way, Ichigo had already been inside and making beer mat houses.
Renji called him an idiot, Ichigo said he was just jealous of his houses, which was ridiculous, since Renji was the unofficial king of doing useful things while drunk, like winning pub quizzes and finding his way home and having sex and making the best beer mat houses ever. No one ever doubted that fact (Ikkaku said it was a stupid title because functioning defeated the purpose of getting hammered and Shuuhei said it was pathetic and they were all just jealous of his houses), so Renji went unchallenged for years.
Until, of course, he engaged in a suspenseful house battle with Ichigo. Since he had already decided in his head that they were friends, it wasn't that weird of an activity-if anything Ichigo was a more entertaining friend than Ikkaku and Shuuhei.
There were the cheap shots like Ichigo blowing air over Renji's stack to gain an advantage, but Renji retaliated by insulting him and kicking him under the table, so they were even.
Ichigo was leading four to three, but to be honest, Renji wasn't exactly clear on how the scoring went when it came to beer mat houses, so he accepted "mine smells more like beer" when Ichigo suggested it earned him a point.
It was only on the last round that Ichigo actually told him his awesome idea. By then Renji was drunk on all of their beers, so when Ichigo explained something about red and symbolism, Renji thought it was probably the best idea ever, and insulted Ichigo.
They ended with a tie, which was great because there was no way Renji was paying Ichigo the billion bucks he had demanded for his imminent victory. Both because his pride wouldn't let him, and because he didn't have that kind of money.
For the past month and a half, Shuuhei had never once complained that Renji wasn't pulling his weight when it came to food and bills, because Shuuhei was that kind of guy (and also had a good job). It didn't matter whether he complained or not, though; Renji was not going to let that continue. Between not wanting to rely on Shuuhei and not wanting to make Ichigo his main source of income-because seriously, no-Renji had started looking for a real job.
He didn't let it concern him that night, though. It had been a pretty great one overall, and unexpectedly it didn't become that much worse when he was forced to hang out at Ichigo's apartment until he felt sober enough to drive home.
They both bitched for a while, even when they were inside the house and Ichigo let him eat a precise fifth of his sandwich and gave him a glass of water. Ichigo had sworn up and down he was going to sleep and was perfectly happy to let Renji stare at a wall for hours without anything to do, but in the end they watched weird TV together and laughed at inappropriate moments because British accents were hilarious when they were drunk. It was completely different than hanging out with Shuuhei.
Renji liked Shuuhei a lot, but Ichigo was… well, he was his kind of dumb, and he was nice to impersonate British actors with, which meant the world to on-a-binge Renji. He was having fun for the first time since getting fired or quitting, and it was really important for Ichigo to know that, so Renji insulted him.
He went home and fell asleep, and if Shuuhei chuckled when Renji told him he'd gone out drinking with Ichigo, Renji let it slide.
*
Bonus the "weird instrumental piece by a band he'd never heard of": Fratres For Violin and Piano (Arvo Part Remix), Beats Antique.
*
NEXT
Part 3: This Is Your Idea Of Fun?
I can't get rid of you
I don't know what to do
I don't even know who is growing on who
'Cos everywhere I go you're there
Can't get you out of my hair
Can't pretend that I don't care - it's not fair
(Growing On Me, The Darkness)
Shuuhei chuckled a lot when he heard that the one-time-maybe thing had turned into a real job. Really chuckled. It got to the point that when Renji was getting ready the following week to head out to lower Seireitei, Shuuhei peered into Renji's bedroom, leaned against his doorframe, and chuckled again.
"Fuck off, Hisagi," Renji finally snapped while putting his jacket on.
"Never said a word," Shuuhei assured, crossing his arms. "His project?"
Renji snarled. "Christ. Why do I still tell you these things?"
"Because you're in awe of my wisdom and I'm your best friend," Shuuhei explained lightly. Renji narrowed his eyes at him.
"I need better friends."
Shuuhei chuckled. Again. "Yeah, maybe you should ask Ichigo."
Now that's ridiculous. "Are you kidding me? The guy's irritating as hell."
"Sounds like a good match for you."
Renji just left.
That day was the first time Ichigo drew him. Renji discovered that experience was totally different from getting photographed. For one thing, Ichigo wore glasses. For another, it felt like Ichigo was doing a case study on him, and knowing he was the guy's final project thingy, Renji figured that was exactly what he was doing. It didn't really make the scrutiny any easier, but if Renji used to be self-conscious about getting looked at so intensely, well, he must have lost that at some point.
That time he drove straight to Ichigo's place, which was somehow less troublesome than getting to the bar. The green, huge-ass building was quite distinguishable. After calling Ichigo for further instructions, he took the elevator to the fifteenth floor and knocked on the third door to the right.
Ichigo answered and led him right into the living room, not bothering to chat. The silence irked Renji. It was a job and all, but he'd never thought-especially not after Ichigo had basically said his degree depended on Renji-that they would maintain some kind of employer-employee atmosphere. Not that he wanted them to be friends, but… well.
The distance was suddenly broken by Ichigo punching Renji's arm, proving that the silence wasn't at all related to work ethics, it was just that Ichigo liked to pretend to be serious when it came to drawing or whatever they were doing that day.
"What the hell?" Renji asked, shoving Ichigo back.
"You were out of it. You need to focus here." Yeah, like that was an excuse to punch someone.
"Fine, I'm focused." He started shucking off his jacket to prove he meant business, and Ichigo took one look at his simple V neckline sweater and made a funny face at his collarbones. "Are you going to take more pictures of me?" Renji asked. Now who isn't focused?
Ichigo averted his stare to somewhere on Renji's right, and when Renji turned to see what was there, he noticed a weirdly large closet next to the bed. "I'll probably take a few, but I want to draw you." Not sketch? That's new. He was about to ask, but Ichigo wasn't finished. "So, I need you to change clothes."
What? "What?"
Ichigo pointed at the closet, looking unimpressed, like it was the most usual request ever. "You heard me."
"How'd you leap between drawing and changing clothes?"
"Well," Ichigo started, sounding almost exasperated, "I won't paint you, and I figured that if it's gonna be black and white anyway, we might as well go for classic clothes."
Renji had to hand it to him, it almost made sense. He doubted his own baggy jeans would be very classic. "Like what, suspenders and a vest?"
Ichigo snorted, and walked around his bed to open the closet. Renji followed. Holy crap.
There was a whole section filled with… well, Renji simply categorized them as costumes. Yes, a couple of gray vests, but also top hats, giant frockcoats and scarves, leather breeches and boots, ascot ties, and… Renji cleared his throat. He was pretty sure that was a harness-as in, bondage harness-not meant for public wear no matter which century you lived in. He raised an eyebrow and stared at Ichigo. "What's this pervy shit, then?"
Ichigo groaned, immediately looking at the harness. "Urahara sent those once he found out I'm interested in photographing people. Said the old stuff would make things interesting so people might give my shit a second look."
Renji snorted. "I'm beginning to like this Urahara guy."
"Fuck that, don't." Ichigo sounded the most horrified he'd ever heard him. Renji just laughed.
"What do you want me to wear? And if you say that harness-"
"No, no, for fuck's sake." Renji just looked as Ichigo started pulling stuff out. A short brown scarf, a black winter coat with a gray lining that would probably reach Renji's knees, and finally burgundy trousers. He took them as Ichigo handed them over, tempted to just toss them on the bed and contemplate whether they would even fit him.
Ichigo made a sudden noise and dove back to the closet, picking out a belt the same color as the scarf, and an honest-to-god fedora hat thing with straps instead of a band. Ichigo smirked at the items like his ability to find shit in his own closet was amazing, and then gave them to Renji too.
There was one item obviously missing. Renji cleared his throat. Ichigo looked at him in confusion for a moment before saying offhandedly, "Oh, your sweater will be fine. I doubt white would clash with anything, which obviously worried you."
"Dickhead," Renji muttered, and then dropped everything he'd been holding and started opening his fly. Ichigo looked away from him and shut the closet abruptly. Renji hadn't foreseen that reaction, and was a bit amused.
He was wondering what else he could do to make Ichigo feel awkward when Ichigo said, "Come in when you're ready," and sidestepped Renji into the studio.
He wondered if Ichigo had any other dress up parties planned, because this thing was weird to get into. The pants were a little tighter than Renji usually liked to wear, and the coat was just heavy. He fumbled a bit with the scarf and belt, and the hat was too entertaining to twirl between his fingers to actually put on. Renji always had that problem with hats.
The moment he stepped into the studio, Ichigo cursed, called him a moron, and came right up to him. Apparently the sweater was supposed to be tucked into the pants, the scarf was supposed to look fluffier or some shit and go under the collar of his shirt, and "Hats go on your head, Renji, but I guess you wouldn't know considering you don't have any use for your head anyway".
After that speech, Ichigo had no qualms about fixing all the problems he'd named himself. For a guy who wouldn't look at Renji in his underwear, he was all too willing to pull at his shirt and touch his chest with that weirdly nice-feeling scarf. At least he let Renji tuck the shirt in all on his own.
Once they were done, Ichigo shoved Renji in front of the mirror in the studio. Well. Am I supposed to be a pimp?
It looked… vintage, and he had a feeling Ichigo could tell him in exactly which era non-pimps wore it, if he asked. In this era, though-"Am I supposed to be a pimp?"
In the mirror, Renji saw Ichigo rolling his eyes and turning to the desk to gather some things. "You're supposed to be interesting," he said over his shoulder.
Right. "Should I unbraid my hair?" Renji couldn't believe he needed permission to keep his braid. He really hadn't been bossed around in six months, and it felt especially fucked up when a scrawny guy he barely knew did it.
"No, it's okay," Ichigo answered.
Good. I wouldn't have done it anyway. Ha.
Renji shook his head and put his hands in the pockets of the oversized coat, examining his reflection again. He guessed he looked kind of cool. He tilted his hat so it covered one eye. Yes, if he were a pimp, he'd be the most amazing of them all.
"You ready?" Ichigo asked, putting next to his canvas a tin container with five pencils, three sticks Renji guessed were charcoal, a weirdly shaped eraser, and some paper towels.
"Will it take a month to finish?" Renji asked, finally turning around to look at the real Ichigo instead of his reflection.
Ichigo smirked up at him from the canvas. "I'm the fastest in my class."
He snorted. "You say that to all the guys?"
Ichigo's response wasn't to curse or scowl, it was to take off his shirt. Renji stared, confused at both the action and the fact that he was right-under all that, the kid was ripped. Apparently under the T-shirt he wore a white tank, and Renji was a bit impressed by his biceps. He had nothing on Renji, obviously, but it was still remarkable for an art student.
"Charcoal is messy," Ichigo said before Renji even asked. Oh, well, yes, that makes sense. Rukia had once tried to get Renji to open up to the whole Chappy obsession by making him draw that damn bunny on her wall, and all it had resulted in was dirty hands, dirtier shirts, and one ugly-ass bunny.
"And I don't say that to all the guys," Ichigo added as an afterthought.
Renji nodded, and watched when Ichigo wiped his hands on his clothes before taking something from the magical never-running-out-of-room desk. A pair of eyeglasses with pink frames. Renji just… laughed, he couldn't help it. They didn't look particularly terrible or anything, but they just looked bizarrely gay on Ichigo.
Before Renji could comment, Ichigo grabbed one of the charcoal sticks from the container and pierced him with a look that meant 'say anything about the glasses and get stabbed'. When Renji didn't say anything, Ichigo instructed, "Stand in front of the wall."
Renji did as he was told under Ichigo's observing eyes. He really hoped Ichigo was true to his word about being fast, because after four weeks of morphing into a couch potato he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand for many hours. Plus it was getting hot, probably because of the coat. He wondered how pimps did it.
Before he even settled into a position-pose-he already heard the scratch of charcoal on the textured paper. To his honest surprise, Ichigo really was fast. His eyes snapped from the canvas to Renji and back quickly enough to get what he wanted without making Renji more than mildly uncomfortable.
He tried following Ichigo's movements-his right hand flying with the charcoal stick and his left one clutching the eraser and kneading it distractedly-but the canvas stand was in the way and in the end Renji ended up just watching his face.
Ichigo was worrying his lower lip and his eyes were narrowed and incredibly concentrated, that spark of determination shining in him again, like he'd gone off on a quest or something, not standing in his house and drawing someone. It was enough to keep Renji entertained for a while.
He tried standing still, but with Ichigo looking so engrossed, he was getting impatient to do something too. It must have been half an hour or more, because Renji was bored enough to get weirdly excited whenever Ichigo looked at him and not the canvas.
Fuck it. Renji pulled his right hand out of his pocket and ran it over the rim of his hat, putting more weight on his left leg than the right. If Ichigo was upset because of the shift, he didn't say it. If anything, he just seemed surprised when he next looked at Renji, like he hadn't even noticed. Renji wondered if he'd listen to him.
"I thought it'd be more glamorous. I could fall asleep," he complained. Ichigo stopped biting his lip, which made Renji think he was going to say something, but in the end Ichigo put the stick down and measured something with both his hands. For a full minute that was the only sign that he had even heard Renji. And that was irritating.
Finally, Ichigo looked up. "Want music?"
Renji raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected Ichigo to actually allow him to move. "Sure. But if your taste sucks I'm gonna tell you."
"Didn't anybody ever tell you not to piss off the person whose place you're at?" Ichigo snorted, and gestured with his head toward the desk. Renji took the hint and went over there, looking for any kind of-oh, speakers for an iPod. They were standing on some stack, and Renji swore it hadn't been there ten minutes ago.
"Maybe you should have been told not to piss off Renji Abarai," he threw back.
"Yeah, I'm terrified," Ichigo said, and Renji could almost hear him smirking. He clicked his tongue and turned the iPod on, picking the first song that he saw. He fully expected punk rock crap to play, but instead he heard pianos and violins, a weird instrumental piece by a band he'd never heard of. It wasn't especially soothing-if anything it was creepy and jarring-but Renji understood how it might get Ichigo in the mood considering jarring was his art.
Well, it might keep Renji occupied for another hour. He nodded and went back to the wall. Ichigo didn't look at him again, instead staring at the canvas and apparently working hard with the paper towel.
"Are you erasing everything?" Renji asked, irked by the thought.
"No, moron," Ichigo replied without looking up. "Refining. I'm blending the vine charcoal to finish the sketch before I start drawing with the compressed charcoal pencils."
Before Renji could say anything, Ichigo dropped the paper towel to the floor and switched to his finger by the looks of it. A few moments later he took a step back, wiped his hands on the tank and removed his glasses. He stared at the canvas and then at Renji, and by the smirk Renji knew he was pleased with his sketch.
"I didn't think you'd be so fun to draw."
Renji barked a laugh. "This is your idea of fun? You looked like you were shitting bricks over it."
"Bitch. You'll see." He placed the glasses back on his nose and fished in the equipment container until he pulled out a pencil. To Renji it looked identical to the other four, but he didn't ask. For a few minutes. Being this bored, he felt like he had to ask things even if he didn't really want to know.
Ichigo indulged him for the most part. He explained that there are harder and softer pencils, that the hard ones are actually lighter, and that the soft ones created the contrast and the black he needed for the coat, hat and outlines. Then he just started saying odd things like how he should have started with something simpler like the tattoos on Renji's collarbones, or that he'd have to touch his face at some point because he had awesome bones or something. He said all of that while drawing and frowning, so Renji guessed he wasn't really aware of speaking. It was still weird.
At some point he stopped talking and crouched in front of the canvas, mostly disappearing from view. Renji huffed and stared out the window. It was completely dark, so he must have been there for three hours or so. This time it didn't affect their session-the lights were on and Renji probably wouldn't have noticed the sunset, even though he was facing it. He'd been looking at Ichigo rather than the window.
The current song was a bit louder and faster-paced than the previous ones, this time having a deep-voiced male lead murmuring things into the room. A female singer chimed in at what Renji imagined was the chorus, and he ended up tapping his foot to the rhythm only to be yelled at by Ichigo to not distract him.
Renji didn't even yell anything in response, though he really wanted to. Something about breaking those damn pencils and smothering Ichigo with a paper towel. Instead he just said, "Fuck that," and sat down on the leather couch, groaning at the much needed back support. He spread his legs and leaned back, the leather worn out enough to not make squeaky sounds. It was comfy.
He grinned when Ichigo hissed, and just couldn't stop himself. "Did I ruin the drawing?"
"No, I've already finished the detail in the trousers, but you're still an asshole."
Renji laughed, taking off his hat and running his fingers over the rim again. "Does that mean you're nearly done?"
"I need to blend the charcoal to soften the shadows under the hat, then add the details and highlights to your braid, and then another dark layer on the hat and coat." He worked while he was speaking, switching pencils and erasers at the blink of an eye and swapping at random with new paper towels.
"How much time will that take?"
Ichigo huffed again. "I take it you're in a hurry to get home?"
Renji was sure Ichigo didn't sound hurt, just annoyed, but he still felt a tiny bit shitty. "Yeah, but I also wanna see it already."
Ichigo's eyes snapped up to him just for a moment, and this time Renji knew it wasn't for the drawing, it was because of what he'd said. "Fifteen minutes, tops."
On the comfy couch time went by much faster. Ichigo was paying all of his attention to the canvas, and while it had annoyed Renji a bit at first, by then he just leaned back and listened to the indistinguishable music, pulling at the straps on the hat. He should make Ichigo draw him only seated in the future.
The future. The thought was… well, to schedule drawing sessions with an artist made him feel like a real art model. It was new, but it wasn't all that bad. The apartment was nice, the couch was comfy, and even the music was acceptable. Plus, Ichigo. He was still annoying, but Renji liked that about him. It sounded creepy, but Ichigo being annoying and bitching at him was the only thing that didn't make this experience emasculating.
He wasn't sure how much time had gone by-three songs, maybe-when he heard the clatter of the tin container being put back on the desk. He cracked his eyes open and saw Ichigo wiping his hands furiously on the already dirtied tank and staring back at him. Being stared at without his knowledge should have felt worse than that.
Renji only raised an eyebrow. "You're done?"
Ichigo frowned and looked at the canvas again, once with the glasses and once without them, like he'd done while drawing. Renji wondered how he didn't get any charcoal on the lenses. Must be magical like the desk.
"Go ahead," he said, before he crashed on the couch next to Renji. Really crashed, with a long-suffering grunt and his eyes closing like he was exhausted. Renji realized it must have been way more taxing for Ichigo than it had been for him.
He didn't need to be told twice. He jumped to his feet, took a second to admire the way the coat floated around him, all amazing-ness, and then went around the canvas stand.
And holy shit, there he was, standing there with his hands in his pockets, his knee bent and his hat tilted to cover one of his eyes. It was so indescribably odd to look at a drawn version of himself staring back at him with one dark eye. The amount of detail was amazing for just a few charcoal pencils and an eraser-the creases in the pants shadowed, the lining of his coat looking so much like the actual material Renji was tempted to touch it. Shit, even his braid looked like a lot of work had been put into it. Still, the most remarkable thing was his face. Other then being a spitting image of him, it was also almost like you could tell what he was thinking.
"Man," he said, not even sure how to continue.
"I know, I know. Praise me for I am a superior being." Ichigo sounded so sarcastic Renji could just imagine him waving his hands in exaggerated self-importance.
"I wouldn't go that far, but this looks great," he said, honestly.
"Don't even breathe on you the wrong way. If you smear it I'm gonna make you stand there for a few more hours, I don't even care if it turns into a sleepover."
Renji did not want to test that theory. He stepped back as stealthily as he could until he felt the desk hitting the backs of his thighs, and then carefully went around the stand and back to the couch.
After some thought, he plopped next to Ichigo.
Ichigo still looked tired, but his eyes were open and fixed on Renji. His legs were folded against his chest like he was this close to cuddling up into himself and falling asleep. The thought made Renji chuckle, but he figured that if Ichigo could relax, why couldn't he?
He spread his legs again and sank into the couch, finally pulling off his hair tie and starting to unbraid his hair. He was a startled by a noise next to him, and turned his head to find Ichigo staring wide-eyed at his hair, of all things.
Did he just gasp over my hair? Renji did them both a favor and catalogued it in his head as a manly grunt of being overworked.
He finished and spread his hair on his shoulders, then put his arms on the backrest and stared ahead. They'd done good work, it might not hurt chilling out afterwards. It wasn't like he'd do anything different if he were at home. Well, he'd probably wear something less ridiculous.
He was brought out of his thoughts by a slight touch, and smacked Ichigo's hand away in a split second out of instinct. "Dude, did you just try to stroke my hair?"
Ichigo shrugged, not looking very remorseful about reaching out and touching another guy's hair without permission. Renji got his fair share of looks thanks to his hair-more often than not followed by the question of which color he'd used when he'd dyed it-but people messing with it made him feel kind of girly.
"It's very red," Ichigo pointed out, most helpfully. Renji wondered if spending all his energy on drawing made him stupider.
"Do you always touch red things?" Renji asked. He wasn't that upset, to be honest, he just made a mental note to talk to Ichigo about boundaries. Not that you're an expert, his brain supplied.
"It distracted me, shut up already," Ichigo muttered, turning around to glare at the wall. Renji was pretty sure he was pouting.
"Let's say it was to celebrate," Renji attempted. He didn't know why he was trying to pacify Ichigo when he wasn't trying to annoy him. Whatever. It was a celebration.
Ichigo started smiling, which was all the thanks Renji knew he was going to get. He slipped his hand from the backrest and socked Ichigo's shoulder in a friendly way. In turn, Ichigo kicked Renji's thigh with his foot, still on the couch.
Renji nodded. Definitely manly.
He was about to go for a fist bump to seal the deal when Ichigo let out a heavy breath, and Renji somehow knew the calm-hanging-out moment was over. Just as well. Ichigo wasn't fit to be his friend, as he'd explained to Shuuhei.
"Will you manage to find your car?" Ichigo asked, smirking.
Renji laughed. "I'll manage going down the elevator, yeah." Hands on his knees, he finally got to his feet.
Ichigo looked up at him, a sort-of smile on his lips. "So no more praise?"
Rolling his eyes, Renji walked over to pat Ichigo's head, twice. He was surprised the spiky hair didn't cut into him or something. "Very decent, Ichigo."
Ichigo promptly shook his head to get rid of Renji's hand, his eyes suddenly taunting. "You mean pretty."
"Oh, shut the hell up." Renji shucked the giant coat and tossed it on Ichigo's face, leaving the studio to change back into his normal clothes.
Ichigo never followed him, but when Renji opened the front door he heard him yell from the studio, "See you next week! Don't forget your cash, moron!"
Bitch.
*
Ichigo was so fucking pleased with the stupid drawing that he could have jerked off and possibly sang and danced through the night. If Ichigo did that sort of thing.
He was pleased with it enough to fall asleep on the couch with the lights on for fifteen minutes, before he woke himself up and went to find a spray can of varnish. If that drawing got smudged they were having a motherfucking sleepover, he didn't care if Renji was already in his car.
He was so ridiculously pleased with it that the next day he was still pleased with it. He woke up contented, he thought about the drawing during his afternoon class, he stored it with extra care, he made an oath to his soul to present it in his final college exhibition, and then he was filled with the urge to send someone a retarded text message, so he went with Renji.
He guessed they were kind of cool. They had sort of hung out the previous day, and Renji was a pretty awesome art model. It was new for both of them, and Ichigo hadn't been lying when he'd said he hadn't known it'd be fun to draw Renji. He had known he would look hot in those vintage clothes, but damn, he hadn't counted on him posing well.
He remembered something about Renji being a bodyguard, so he guessed he must have been trained to stand still and all that, but how he still maintained that fierce expression and air about him, and how he helped transform it into this kickass drawing, Ichigo didn't know.
So yeah, they worked together well enough to not get too bored and to get great drawings out of the arrangement. The session was definitely something to tell Urahara about that morning.
It wasn't really a friendship, they'd only met like four times, but Ichigo was fairly confident Renji was a guy worth texting. He was also the only one who would know what the hell Ichigo was talking about, so that was a plus too.
He went for a subtle, 'Dude, it's still awesome', and then tried to ignore his phone before he'd regret sending stupid shit to Renji. The problem was that avoiding Renji, the guy he'd only met four times, was just not happening. Ichigo's wall was full of post-it notes that reminded him of Renji, his iPod made him think of Renji's surly comments, and when he turned on his laptop there Renji was, the same way he'd been staring at him from the Photoshop window ever since the previous week.
That guy was getting under Ichigo's skin incredibly fast, he'd give him that. Then his cell phone buzzed, and Ichigo all but leaped to reach it.
'obvsly, shithead, we worked on it for 50 hrs.' And he could hear that sentence ringing loud and clear in Renji's voice (only without the abbreviations, those were weird for grown men to use), which was weird given they'd only met four times, but whatever, Renji answered and things were cool. Not that he'd doubted they would be, of course. Ichigo had never been accused of having insecurities-being awkward, yes, but not in the coy way that made girls want to snuggle with him, which was fine by him anyway.
'Stop whining like a bitch and get ready for next week', he sent back, not even having to imagine Renji's reaction given Renji was glaring at him already from the picture on his laptop.
'fuck that, u wanna draw me again?'
He wasn't sure exactly how the first part of the message related to the second part, but to be honest, he didn't really care because if he wanted to draw Renji, he was going to draw Renji.
'Yeah. No costumes, promise', he typed, not really meaning it. It depended on his mood, really. Though after seeing a glimpse of the tattoos Renji had on his fucking collarbones, Ichigo had a pretty clear idea of what to draw next. He had been right-charcoals were perfect for Renji.
Another buzz interrupted his thoughts. 'i wont let u dress me up neway'.
Ichigo snorted, and didn't really think before sending, 'You make it sound so gayer than it is'.
About a minute passed, during which Ichigo did not obsess about what he'd sent, before he got a short reply: 'hater'.
And Ichigo just laughed for a moment, because what the fuck, how'd it come to that? 'STFU', he sent back, sinking into his couch.
He didn't really expect Renji to reply, so he went back to his Photoshop and tried to finish his Digital Arts assignment, due in two days. The problem was that all he wanted was to draw Renji again. Ichigo always got attached to his projects, and it used to be completely normal, but his project being a person made it all feel a bit less normal and creepier.
The other problem was that he couldn't exactly draw a person on demand, and even though he'd probably manage setting up meetings with Renji more than once a week, he really wouldn't be able to afford it.
His phone buzzed in his lap, surprising him for a moment. He was even more surprised by the text message itself.
'what r u doing?' Renji asked, like it was casual or something. For a moment Ichigo considered yelling at Renji for interrupting him, but, well. I started it.
'HW. You?'
The reply came weirdly fast. 'lame. i'm @ party. roommate made me'.
Well, being drunk explained the abbreviations. Ichigo probably should have asked why Renji was at a party at ten p.m., or why he was texting Ichigo while partying, or why he'd called him lame, but before he knew it, he’d sent, 'gay for each other roommates?', and it was scary how much it concerned Ichigo.
Apparently it didn't really concern Renji, because there wasn't a dramatic pause or anything. 'NOYB man'. Which was kind of true, it really was none of his business, but he was pretty sure not being flat-out denied was amazingly good.
Because, okay, the attraction might have been mostly replaced by artistic fascination like he'd thought it would, but Renji was still fucking hot so it was pretty important to know if they batted for the same team.
Yet Renji gave no clue. 'You suck' was all Ichigo had to say about that.
'g2g', Renji replied, which Ichigo thought was nice of him since he could have just not answered and tormented Ichigo for the rest of the night. Not that answering him did much good, since now Ichigo's curiosity was piqued, again, and he just stared at his phone like an idiot. Because Renji just randomly asked him what he was doing.
This arrangement with Renji was not going as planned, but whatever it was morphing into, Ichigo was always up for a challenge.
*
Renji may have started texting Ichigo regularly. It didn't feel as odd as it should have, and Ichigo was the one that had started it, anyway. Renji still didn't consider them friends friends, but Ichigo was insane and kind of hilarious.
He was pretty sure Ichigo wasn't aware of it, being all mad and serious, but sometimes he'd go for a motivational speech or tell a completely serious story and just crack Renji up.
Of course, there was the intentionally stupid shit, like the text Renji'd received that morning.
'Dude, weirdest shit ever. You & me riding a giant snake'.
Yes, Renji definitely started that day brighter than usual. He thought his reply was distinctly appropriate, too. 'WTF? Are you high?'
He probably would have preferred Ichigo being high to the reply he did get. 'No man it was a dream. You wore a pink fluffy coat.'
Seriously, what the fuck. '?? GTFO, I don't wanna be in your sex dreams'.
After a few minutes of silence, Renji decided it was time to get out of bed. As usual, he kind of rolled over until his feet hit the floor, and then stood up and opened the window. Renji's room had always been mostly empty. His childhood had taught him that things came and went sometimes unbearably easily, and so he only held on to the things that really mattered, like food, warm clothes, and his friends.
Instead of mementos flooding his room, there were weights, a few magazines, burger wrappers and other crap, exactly two pictures, and his cheap laptop. It had been fine when he'd had a job and spent most of his time outside anyway, but after he lost it it was kind of depressing, so he unofficially moved into the living room.
Of course, he still went out of the house every once in a while, and still slept in his bedroom to not disturb Shuuhei too much. He shuffled across the room to his closet and changed to go for his run, when he heard a text message coming in. He grinned and went back to grab his phone.
'As if I want you in my sex dreams'.
Like he said, the kid was funny.
Renji put on a loose shirt before typing back, 'you're trying to seduce me over the phone'. Because it was true, and he could imagine Ichigo spluttering over his phone like a schoolgirl trying to come up with an answer to that.
In the meantime, he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then checked if Shuuhei was still asleep. His roommate wasn't even in his bedroom, so Renji guessed he hadn't come home from the party last night.
Almost a week ago Renji had actually lifted himself from the couch to go to the party Shuuhei had insisted would be incredible beyond belief. Shuuhei was friends with a guy who was deep inside the Vaizard Group, the city's biggest club-owners network, so he always got in the craziest parties Seireitei had to offer, and sometimes he took Renji with him. Lately it was more like kidnapped Renji with him, but at the last party Renji had gotten so much shit for texting Ichigo instead of doing more shots that last night he’d just refused to go with Shuuhei.
He didn't really regret staying at the apartment. Actually, it was probably good he hadn't gone out, because if he'd been drunk while reading about Ichigo dreaming about himself and Renji on a giant serpent, who knows what might have happened.
He went back to his bedroom to find his shoes when he remembered to check his phone, and saw that Ichigo had already replied. 'Am not'. It was incredibly witty, and gave Renji so much room for ribbing he wasn't even sure what to say, so he decided to let it go for now.
He sent a quick, 'whatever, see you tomorrow', put on his shoes, and left the apartment. He had a whole day to figure out how to torture Ichigo, anyway.
*
"When we first met I thought you said you'd paint me," Renji whined like a bitch, and Ichigo didn't even glare at him as he set up the clean textured paper on a canvas on the canvas stand. The whole process was kind of unnecessary, and most of his class just put their paper on a desk and sat down to work, but Ichigo had never been able to sit still when he drew, and screw smudge danger.
"I'm gonna stick to charcoal for now," he told Renji as firmly as he could.
"But that way you're mostly just gonna draw my tattoos." It sounded more you-are-responsible-for-everything-that-is-wrong-with-the-world than I-know-you're-insanely-attracted-to-my-tattoos-and-will-probably-never-get-laid, and Ichigo thanked all fuck for that because he might have blushed if it hadn't sounded neutral.
Saying no shit, Sherlock would have conveyed his thoughts on what Renji'd said, but he decided to go for something that wouldn't reveal too much of how he felt about Renji's tattoos. He cleared his throat, fascinated with the vine charcoal he'd used a million times. "As I've said, your tattoos are very artsy."
Renji chuckled from the couch. "You can just say they're amazing."
Ichigo would have been happy to tell Renji to get over himself because they weren't that awesome, even though they really fucking were, but that wouldn't have lead very well to his next question. He took a deep breath. "Out of pure artistic interest-"
"Yeah, I have more," Renji answered, causing Ichigo to snap his head up and stare at Renji. The bastard seemed smug, like he knew exactly what that information would do to Ichigo. Which was wreak havoc in his mind. But there was no way Renji could have really known that, right?
Not that it mattered, because Renji had more tattoos. Out of pure artistic interest, Ichigo asked, "Can I see?"
Out of pure asshole-ness, Renji said, "No."
"Indulge me?" Ichigo pretended it didn't sound like a plea. Being stealthy about wanting to draw Renji naked was much easier when they were just texting each other.
"No," Renji repeated. He even crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised an eyebrow, like he was challenging Ichigo to take his shirt off himself or something. Which he totally could have, by the way.
"You're being stupid." He really did just want to see the extent of the tattoos and to figure out for himself if they were worth drawing, it wasn't like he was going to jump Renji the moment he took off his clothes. Ichigo wasn't really desperate.
Only that he was. "Look, we said I wouldn't dress you up, but I can't think of a reason for you to be afraid to-"
"For fuck's sake, fine, you relentless prick."
Ichigo was fully prepared for a victory cheer, but he figured it could wait until after Renji finished standing up, glaring at him, throwing his obscenely colorful jacket on the couch, and then lifting his T-shirt over his head and tossing it away too and oh, fuck. "Oh, fuck," he said aloud before thinking.
He figured it was probably a good response to the revelation that, yes, Renji had tattoos all over his torso, yes, they were incredible, much like his torso actually, and yes, that probably all fit into Ichigo's style.
The awkward part was that he was forced to actually resist the urge to touch him. He'd drilled it into his head to be hyperaware of that particular urge ever since the hair incident the other day, but it was fucking hard, and the way he was looking at Renji was probably leaving a mark anyway.
It felt alright to stare, though, given the fact it really was out of artistic interest. The first thing he did wasn't to appreciate Renji's body per se, but to admire the beautiful, complicated lines his tribal tattoos made. It was… controlled chaos. No, it was intentional, not chaotic at all. It was a tamed beast.
The attractive symmetry was interrupted by a barely-noticeable mass right under Renji's shoulder, and this time Ichigo really couldn't resist taking a closer look. He walked up to Renji and stared at the skin right under his shoulder, differently textured under the ink…
It suddenly hit him. It was scar tissue.
Renji backed away from him a bit, letting on he was uncomfortable, but Ichigo didn't feel like apologizing or backing off. He looked up into Renji's eyes, and tried to find a subtle way to ask.
"That's a scar," he said, trying not to kick himself. He figured it might get Renji to explain without too much coaxing from him.
"You know, you can't tell from lookin' at you, but you really are a prodigy."
No such luck. Ichigo frowned, but he really wasn't going to let it go. Renji was full of surprises, and if 'interesting' was what Ichigo was going for, well, his taste in picking strangers to model for him kicked serious ass.
"It looks like…" He worried his lower lip. He was aware that he talked a lot when he drew, most of the time cursing, and sometimes in crisis cool monologues came to him, but normally? Ichigo was pretty shitty with words.
Sometimes he thought that was why he'd become an artist. No real need to talk or interact with anyone. No need to try and get his message across. The ones who were able to get it got it, and those who couldn't were lame in his book anyway. He sensed that about Renji now, when the redhead gave him a hard look and crossed his arms-which were muscled and tattooed and amazing-again.
Ichigo had known there was something under the overbearing friendliness, and, like after the first time Ichigo had taken Renji's pictures, all he wanted to do was jab at it. "Is it-?"
"It's from a bullet," Renji finally helped.
Ichigo raised his eyebrows in surprise. Renji was looking back at him, so it must have not been the scar that bothered him, but rather talking about it. On the off chance he was wrong, Ichigo decided to push. "From your old job?"
"Nah, that's the one on my back."
Ichigo swallowed. There were two scars to upset the symmetry, and Ichigo was so thrilled by the idea it was embarrassing. It was too hard to avoid turning Renji around and inspecting his back immediately.
He went back to looking at the scar under his shoulder, wondering how much it had hurt and knowing by the density of the tissue that it had happened a long time ago, which raised the questions of when and how and did it hurt, but Renji interrupted him.
"Don't look at it like it's fascinating, god."
And suddenly it struck Ichigo how fucked up it was to just stand there and stare at the scar. He immediately looked up, hoping Renji could tell he was sincere when he said, "I'm sorry, man."
He knew that trying to explain might fuck it up even more, but it would be better than just coming off as a total freak. "I saw plenty of scars when I was growing up, but yours… break the pattern of the tattoos, fuck up my symmetry. I… like that." He was an artsy freak.
Renji's eyes widened a bit, softer than before. Then again, Ichigo was shit at guessing this stuff, so Renji might as well have been getting ready to throw a punch.
"You like my scars?" Renji asked, but it sounded more like he was insulting Ichigo than feeling awkward, which, given the circumstances, was very good.
"You know what, Renji? You took off your shirt, so deal with it." It probably would have sounded more impressive if he were able to step back from Renji's body. Well, he guessed many things would have been easier to do if he were able to do that, things like concentrating and shutting up.
"Fine," Renji said, sounding resigned. "I'll try getting shot more often."
Ichigo snorted. Sarcasm was definitely better than anger. "I hear swords can give you pretty cool scars, too."
Renji was smirking now. "You ever see any of those?"
Right, I didn't explain. Moron. "My dad runs a private clinic next to our house, so when I went there I saw some pretty ugly shit."
"Must have been almost as traumatic as getting shot," Renji said, taunting him now, and Ichigo felt better for some reason.
"Did I say I liked your scar? I meant that it's hideous."
Renji didn't look like he believed him, and even unfolded his arms to tone down the back off vibe. "Just shut up and draw me like you were begging to."
Ichigo huffed, and didn't look at Renji's now exposed chest so determinedly he almost believed he wasn't interested in it. "I don't beg. Stand in front of the window."
"Right."
Renji walked by him, and Ichigo turned around to make sure he did as he was told, but then he saw Renji's back and he could pretty much hear the conversation that would take place if he opened his mouth ("Dude, your back." "What about it?" "It's awesome." "I know." "Can I paint more tattoos on you?" "No." "Can I at least pin you down on your stomach and fuck you into next week?") so he bit his lip to make sure it stayed shut.
But seriously, Renji's back was awesome. The tattoos were more elaborate there, fucking masterpieces-straight, jagged lines that were connected by thinner strokes and sprouted shorter lines. Somehow they fitted together in a perfectly symmetrical pattern, running down each of Renji's shoulder blades, until only two lines remained on either side of his spine, spiking twice like the zigzag tattoos on his neck, only these were pointing toward the small of Renji's back and his ass and Renji's back was awesome and that was as far as Ichigo was willing to take it.
With any other person he'd just stare at the scapular muscles, but with Renji he was closer to gazing and probably weeping, because those muscles were as toned as his damn abs and biceps and Ichigo had no idea how a person could work the fuck out like that. The tattoos looked so well on them it was like Renji was born with the ink, and the light from the window caused just the right amount of shadows and highlights, and yeah, Ichigo could have wept. If Ichigo did that sort of thing.
He tore his eyes away and grabbed from under his desk a knee-high, rectangular plastic block that looked like a brick more than anything. He then approached Renji, trying not to look at him even though he knew Renji was staring at him-or maybe the block, Renji was for some reason fascinated with his desk and stuff near it-and carefully moved the canvas stand farther from the window so Renji would have room to settle down.
"What's that?" Renji asked when Ichigo kicked the block until it was perfectly placed in the middle of the square of sunlight on the floor.
"I want you to sit on that and face the window," he said, settling behind the canvas stand and picking out a vine stick. Only then did he allow himself to look at Renji again. His back was still incredible. He was looking back at Ichigo over his shoulder, seeming a bit confused.
"You want to draw my back?" he asked, like he didn't tattoo his back just to make Ichigo want to draw it and possibly spend hours touching it.
"Yes. Oh, and put your hands on the edges of the block so the light would hit your upper arms too."
Renji looked conflicted then, and Ichigo didn't know if it was because of the following orders thing, sitting down, or the idea of having to stare out a window for the following few hours. Ichigo put some music on, hoping it would solve at least some of those problems.
Renji still cursed him a bit for being a bossy fuck, but Renji was supposed to do that, and to be challenging and brisk and annoying and aggressive and-Renji turned his back to him fully and Ichigo stopped thinking again.
That one was fun.
On that night, after Renji had put his shirt back on and left, letting Ichigo stare at his own drawing and possibly be more pleased with it than he had been with the last one, Ichigo finally came up with a tentative motif for his project.
Red. He even hung the word up in a Post-it note, using his fountain pen. He thought the fancy people would admire such a bold name for a collection of mostly black and white (so far), and to him it just made perfect sense. He'd been taught in one of his early classes with Professor Zangetsu that red symbolized strong emotions. The color of blood and fire represented life and vitality and all the things that Renji made him think about and somehow represented.
Ichigo spent the next half hour googling what red symbolized, and came up with a list, all the words hung up in Post-it notes by then: energy, passion, love, lust, strength, heat, aggression, danger, fire, blood, violence, courage, sin.
Finally, he looked back at his drawing and figured, yeah, I can work with that.
*
'I have an awesome idea.'
'best of luck, man'.
'It involves you.'
'the project thingy or drinks?'
'How about both?'
'as long as you're paying'.
When Ichigo sent back, 'Yeah, whatever,' Renji was finally able to call him a friend. It would have been rude not to, considering Ichigo indeed bought both of them a beer, and Renji ended up drinking some of Ichigo's too.
It turned out to be kind of fun to hang out with Ichigo. Renji had somehow been talked into driving to the lower Seireitei bar again ("Fuck no." "I said I'd pay for the drinks, you useless idiot." "Fine, but your idea better be worth it."), and by the time he'd found his way, Ichigo had already been inside and making beer mat houses.
Renji called him an idiot, Ichigo said he was just jealous of his houses, which was ridiculous, since Renji was the unofficial king of doing useful things while drunk, like winning pub quizzes and finding his way home and having sex and making the best beer mat houses ever. No one ever doubted that fact (Ikkaku said it was a stupid title because functioning defeated the purpose of getting hammered and Shuuhei said it was pathetic and they were all just jealous of his houses), so Renji went unchallenged for years.
Until, of course, he engaged in a suspenseful house battle with Ichigo. Since he had already decided in his head that they were friends, it wasn't that weird of an activity-if anything Ichigo was a more entertaining friend than Ikkaku and Shuuhei.
There were the cheap shots like Ichigo blowing air over Renji's stack to gain an advantage, but Renji retaliated by insulting him and kicking him under the table, so they were even.
Ichigo was leading four to three, but to be honest, Renji wasn't exactly clear on how the scoring went when it came to beer mat houses, so he accepted "mine smells more like beer" when Ichigo suggested it earned him a point.
It was only on the last round that Ichigo actually told him his awesome idea. By then Renji was drunk on all of their beers, so when Ichigo explained something about red and symbolism, Renji thought it was probably the best idea ever, and insulted Ichigo.
They ended with a tie, which was great because there was no way Renji was paying Ichigo the billion bucks he had demanded for his imminent victory. Both because his pride wouldn't let him, and because he didn't have that kind of money.
For the past month and a half, Shuuhei had never once complained that Renji wasn't pulling his weight when it came to food and bills, because Shuuhei was that kind of guy (and also had a good job). It didn't matter whether he complained or not, though; Renji was not going to let that continue. Between not wanting to rely on Shuuhei and not wanting to make Ichigo his main source of income-because seriously, no-Renji had started looking for a real job.
He didn't let it concern him that night, though. It had been a pretty great one overall, and unexpectedly it didn't become that much worse when he was forced to hang out at Ichigo's apartment until he felt sober enough to drive home.
They both bitched for a while, even when they were inside the house and Ichigo let him eat a precise fifth of his sandwich and gave him a glass of water. Ichigo had sworn up and down he was going to sleep and was perfectly happy to let Renji stare at a wall for hours without anything to do, but in the end they watched weird TV together and laughed at inappropriate moments because British accents were hilarious when they were drunk. It was completely different than hanging out with Shuuhei.
Renji liked Shuuhei a lot, but Ichigo was… well, he was his kind of dumb, and he was nice to impersonate British actors with, which meant the world to on-a-binge Renji. He was having fun for the first time since getting fired or quitting, and it was really important for Ichigo to know that, so Renji insulted him.
He went home and fell asleep, and if Shuuhei chuckled when Renji told him he'd gone out drinking with Ichigo, Renji let it slide.
*
Bonus the "weird instrumental piece by a band he'd never heard of": Fratres For Violin and Piano (Arvo Part Remix), Beats Antique.
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