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silverfoxflowerTitle: stranger things have happened (just never to us)
Author:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
silverfoxflower
Fandom: Genkaku Picasso
Genre: Slash
Word Count: ~1700
Pairing: Sugiura/Hikari
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None. Really.
Notes: Fills the 'Pictures' square of my![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=3)
kink_bingo.
Summary: Hikari accidentally bumps into Kotone and ends up sketching her yaoi fantasies. Too bad they are of him and Sugiura.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Just because Kotone had bumped into him in the hallway that morning, spilling a handful of attendance sheets all over the floor, stammering apologies and pressing herself into his body for approximately eight awkward seconds, Hikari was now in hell.
“Wow!” Chiaki peeked through her fingers, torn between laughing and blushing. “That girl has quite an imagination!”
Hikari just hissed, the back of his neck to his jawline and up to his cheeks flushed a deep, bloody red. His right hand flew over his sketchbook, completely out of his control as it drew strong arms and flexing abdomens. Wet kisses. Adoring gazes. The thumb of his left hand was in his teeth, gnawed on mercilessly in his distress. Meanwhile, the teacher droned on about algebra and his classmates whispered amongst themselves, unaware that Hikari was reluctantly sketching porn.
“She’s not even in distress!” Hikari snapped as quietly as possible. This would be the worst, the worst time to draw attention to himself. “Why am I drawing her … fantasies?”
Chiaki giggled, and Hikari barely suppressed the urge to flick her off of his shoulder. “Well … this is a sort of darkness in her heart, I guess …”
So far the picture on the sketchbook was vague. Two boys tangled in each other, kissing. Their limbs were slender and hairless. Hikari hoped to God they would be wearing pants.
“So anatomically incorrect.” Hikari muttered to himself, disgusted. Boys were boys, even if they were gay, at least they should look male. Brooding, he sketched short, dark hair on the boy on the bottom, and gave him round glasses that made his eyes look adorably large.
“Hey!” Chiaki whispered excitedly. “I think that’s you!”
Hikari’s eyes widened as he began to see past the annoying stylistic choices. Of course it would be him. Of course Kotone would imagine him kissing another boy. Because that’s how Hikari’s life worked.
“Hey Picasso, what’re you sketching?” Sugiura leaned forward lazily.
Hikari jumped back so hard that his desk rattled, and the entire class turned to look at him. Normally, he would have brushed it off, put down his head and ignored everyone. Today, his mouth opened wordlessly and he cradled his sketchbook to his chest like a mother defending her newborn against wolves.
Across the room, he met Kotone’s eyes for a short second. Something in her gaze made Hikari’s heart sink with an almost audible glub glub.
“Alright class, calm down. Hikari,” The teacher gave him a long-suffering glare. “At least try to pretend you are taking notes.”
After the whispering had died down, Hikari opened his sketchbook with a cringe. The second he set his pencil to paper, he was drawing again, thick, confident lines as the boy on top of “him” took shape. Shoulder-length dark hair, a casual, lopsided smile.
“Psst, Picasso.” Sugiura didn’t lean this time, but he did try to catch Hikari’s eye. “You’re not drawing anything dirty in there, are you?”
Yeah, you. Pinning me to the bed and smothering me with your mouth. Hikari savagely ignored his friend, trying to finish the picture as fast as possible without looking at it too much, lest the image render him blind. His left thumb began to bleed a little, rust on his tongue. He carried on nibbling it savagely.
He drew a hand, “Sugiura's” broad and manly hand, cradling his cheek. One thumb was pressed against “Hikari’s” bottom lip, and “he” looked up with fierce adoration, eyes wide with love.
Hikari felt a burning in the back of his throat not unlike the urge to vomit.
“Ooh, I thought his other hand was going somewhere naughty for a second,” Chiaki cooed, swinging her tiny legs against Hikari’s shoulder. “But it’s sweet, how your fingers are entwined …”
“Stop enjoying this!” Hikari hissed, shading his “own” bottom lip, making it look soft and kissable.
Chiaki just smiled sadly, thinking of how a lover would make Hikari’s eyes shine and his smile brighten, just like the “Hikari” in the picture. Even though it was Kotone’s fantasy, Hikari’s talent still shone through, and it was easy to read lingering glance, the soft touch and the gentle smiles in the sketch. Too detailed for a high-school girl casually fantasizing about two classmates she didn’t know well.
It would make sense that these were Hikari’s true feelings, peeking through his stubborn denial. Chiaki brightened, leaning her chin on her folded fingers.
“What are you thinking about?” Hikari asked suspiciously.
“How sad I am that I’m dead.” She told him truthfully. “If I was alive you wouldn’t be this lonely.”
“I’m going to pretend I never heard that.” Hikari muttered, finishing his picture with an annoyed flourish. Even when drawing something that was going right to the combustible trash, he drew it right goddammit.
The lunch bell rang, and Hikari breathed a sigh of relief as he snapped shut his sketchbook and slid it into his backpack.
“Picasso! Come have lunch with me!” Akane had slid next to him, bumping her hip against his desk. She asked him this every day, and more often than not managed to drag him along with her. Although Sugiura usually invited himself along as well, forestalling any opportunity Akane may have had to put the moves on Hikari.
“Come sit with me outside, Hikari. I made you a bento.” Jeanne shortly followed behind. Her face and voice were casually friendly, although her cheeks were flushed. Gaining courage from being allowed to dress and act like a girl, Jeanne had begun making more and more blatant overtures upon Hikari, all of which he was still oblivious to.
“Actually,” Hikari began walking away, distracted. “I’m going to the rooftop-“ As he wound around the desks, the strap of his messenger bag caught on a chair and suddenly Hikari found himself yanked backwards, hitting the ground with a loud smack. A beat, and there was pain, oh so much pain crawling from the back of his head, down to his shoulders.
“Hikari! Are you alright?” Jeanne was at his side, helping him up. She was unsurprisingly strong, but all Hikari could think of as his head buzzed painfully was that her carefully manicured nails were nothing like Sugiura’s.
Obviously, he had a concussion.
“Ow!” He cradled the back of his head. “Yeah, sure. Probably a concussion, but, great.” Hikari looked around, sighing at the sprawl of his belongings on the floor. Jeanne had already bent over, picking up his pens and notebooks.
“H-here!” Akane suddenly shoved Hikari’s sketchbook at him. She was flushed and seemed to avoid his eyes as she leaned down to tug a protesting Jeanne away.
Hikari was left by himself, with an aching head, suspecting exactly why Akane had left so fast. Groaning, he shoved the rest of his things on his bag haphazardly.
“I think she saw.” Chiaki stage-whispered.
“Thank you for that.” Hikari muttered. He got to his feet, brushing off his pants and skulking out of the room. At least, with all the rumors floating around about him already, the fact that he drew yaoi would hopefully be a small sensation.
Outside the door, Hikari froze as he saw the familiar line of Sugiura’s body. He was leaning against the wall, talking animatedly with Akane, probably asking her to eat lunch with him. Before either could see him, Hikari ducked out of the room and fairly sprinted to the boy’s bathroom. Half of him almost anticipated Sugiura’s voice, calling him back with a half-laughing tone.
Hey Picasso, You’re not drawing anything dirty in there, are you?
“Okay,” He breathed angrily as he slammed into a stall, talking more to himself than to Chiaki. “This drawing’s done all the damage it’s going to.” He opened his sketchbook and savagely tore out the picture he had drawn this morning.
Right now, Akane was probably blabbing to Sugiura all about how much of a freak Hikari was. Which was just great. Just imagining the look of shock and disgust on Sugiura’s face made Hikari grit his teeth and tear the paper in his hand to shreds. Then, with an empty, numb feeling, he tossed them into the toilet and flushed.
It’s okay, Sugiura was never really his friend anyway. He just followed Akane around like a brain-damaged puppy. Hikari didn’t know why he felt the need to kick the bathroom door on the way out.
Chiaki trailed behind worriedly, but Hikari didn’t say a word as he trudged to the staircase.
“Hey!” It was Sugiura’s voice, ringing from down the hall.
Hikari just kept walking, a small increase in the speed of his steps the only indicator that he had heard Sugiura at all.
“Hey, Picasso!” Sugiura’s voice grew louder. He jogged down the hallway, weaving around a pair of girls by the lockers, a boy carrying a grey box. “Wait up!”
“Hikari,” Chiaki warned, right before Sugiura’s arm shot out and he grabbed Hikari’s shoulder, spinning him around.
“What, you deaf or something?” Sugiura panted lightly.
There was a familiar flicker of emotion that ran through Hikari’s face when he saw Sugiura, before he twisted it into a scowl. “You want something?” He asked, trying to conceal the tremor in his voice.
“Yeah,” Sugiura threw him a weird look. “To have lunch.”
There was that emotion again. Pure surprise, as if Hikari still couldn’t believe that a popular kid like Sugiura was giving him the time of day, much less tracking him down for lunch. He didn’t know it, but it flashed through his face every time he looked at Sugiura.
“Com’on, Akane told me where you were.” Sugiura went on, unaware of how Hikari flinched when he had said Akane’s name. “She also said that she couldn’t eat with us today.” A confused look crossed Sugiura’s face. “I think she’s mad at me for some reason.”
“She didn’t …” Hikari blurted out, then stopped himself at the patient, expectant look in Sugiura’s eyes. “Nevermind,” He muttered.
Sugiura just threw a smile over his shoulder and began walking to the cafeteria. Hikari followed automatically, quickening his pace to catch up with his friend.
“ … so Picasso, ever gonna tell me what you were drawing in class today?”
Hikari’s negative reply was probably meant to be defensive, but it came out sputtering like a dunked kitten, which was probably why Sugiura laughed.
Chiaki smiled to herself as she withdrew a rectangle of paper from her blazer and unfolded it, comparing the sketched Hikari and Sugiura to the real ones. Still a bit of work to do, but it was good for a beginner.
Author:
silverfoxflower Fandom: Genkaku Picasso
Genre: Slash
Word Count: ~1700
Pairing: Sugiura/Hikari
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None. Really.
Notes: Fills the 'Pictures' square of my
kink_bingo. Summary: Hikari accidentally bumps into Kotone and ends up sketching her yaoi fantasies. Too bad they are of him and Sugiura.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Just because Kotone had bumped into him in the hallway that morning, spilling a handful of attendance sheets all over the floor, stammering apologies and pressing herself into his body for approximately eight awkward seconds, Hikari was now in hell.
“Wow!” Chiaki peeked through her fingers, torn between laughing and blushing. “That girl has quite an imagination!”
Hikari just hissed, the back of his neck to his jawline and up to his cheeks flushed a deep, bloody red. His right hand flew over his sketchbook, completely out of his control as it drew strong arms and flexing abdomens. Wet kisses. Adoring gazes. The thumb of his left hand was in his teeth, gnawed on mercilessly in his distress. Meanwhile, the teacher droned on about algebra and his classmates whispered amongst themselves, unaware that Hikari was reluctantly sketching porn.
“She’s not even in distress!” Hikari snapped as quietly as possible. This would be the worst, the worst time to draw attention to himself. “Why am I drawing her … fantasies?”
Chiaki giggled, and Hikari barely suppressed the urge to flick her off of his shoulder. “Well … this is a sort of darkness in her heart, I guess …”
So far the picture on the sketchbook was vague. Two boys tangled in each other, kissing. Their limbs were slender and hairless. Hikari hoped to God they would be wearing pants.
“So anatomically incorrect.” Hikari muttered to himself, disgusted. Boys were boys, even if they were gay, at least they should look male. Brooding, he sketched short, dark hair on the boy on the bottom, and gave him round glasses that made his eyes look adorably large.
“Hey!” Chiaki whispered excitedly. “I think that’s you!”
Hikari’s eyes widened as he began to see past the annoying stylistic choices. Of course it would be him. Of course Kotone would imagine him kissing another boy. Because that’s how Hikari’s life worked.
“Hey Picasso, what’re you sketching?” Sugiura leaned forward lazily.
Hikari jumped back so hard that his desk rattled, and the entire class turned to look at him. Normally, he would have brushed it off, put down his head and ignored everyone. Today, his mouth opened wordlessly and he cradled his sketchbook to his chest like a mother defending her newborn against wolves.
Across the room, he met Kotone’s eyes for a short second. Something in her gaze made Hikari’s heart sink with an almost audible glub glub.
“Alright class, calm down. Hikari,” The teacher gave him a long-suffering glare. “At least try to pretend you are taking notes.”
After the whispering had died down, Hikari opened his sketchbook with a cringe. The second he set his pencil to paper, he was drawing again, thick, confident lines as the boy on top of “him” took shape. Shoulder-length dark hair, a casual, lopsided smile.
“Psst, Picasso.” Sugiura didn’t lean this time, but he did try to catch Hikari’s eye. “You’re not drawing anything dirty in there, are you?”
Yeah, you. Pinning me to the bed and smothering me with your mouth. Hikari savagely ignored his friend, trying to finish the picture as fast as possible without looking at it too much, lest the image render him blind. His left thumb began to bleed a little, rust on his tongue. He carried on nibbling it savagely.
He drew a hand, “Sugiura's” broad and manly hand, cradling his cheek. One thumb was pressed against “Hikari’s” bottom lip, and “he” looked up with fierce adoration, eyes wide with love.
Hikari felt a burning in the back of his throat not unlike the urge to vomit.
“Ooh, I thought his other hand was going somewhere naughty for a second,” Chiaki cooed, swinging her tiny legs against Hikari’s shoulder. “But it’s sweet, how your fingers are entwined …”
“Stop enjoying this!” Hikari hissed, shading his “own” bottom lip, making it look soft and kissable.
Chiaki just smiled sadly, thinking of how a lover would make Hikari’s eyes shine and his smile brighten, just like the “Hikari” in the picture. Even though it was Kotone’s fantasy, Hikari’s talent still shone through, and it was easy to read lingering glance, the soft touch and the gentle smiles in the sketch. Too detailed for a high-school girl casually fantasizing about two classmates she didn’t know well.
It would make sense that these were Hikari’s true feelings, peeking through his stubborn denial. Chiaki brightened, leaning her chin on her folded fingers.
“What are you thinking about?” Hikari asked suspiciously.
“How sad I am that I’m dead.” She told him truthfully. “If I was alive you wouldn’t be this lonely.”
“I’m going to pretend I never heard that.” Hikari muttered, finishing his picture with an annoyed flourish. Even when drawing something that was going right to the combustible trash, he drew it right goddammit.
The lunch bell rang, and Hikari breathed a sigh of relief as he snapped shut his sketchbook and slid it into his backpack.
“Picasso! Come have lunch with me!” Akane had slid next to him, bumping her hip against his desk. She asked him this every day, and more often than not managed to drag him along with her. Although Sugiura usually invited himself along as well, forestalling any opportunity Akane may have had to put the moves on Hikari.
“Come sit with me outside, Hikari. I made you a bento.” Jeanne shortly followed behind. Her face and voice were casually friendly, although her cheeks were flushed. Gaining courage from being allowed to dress and act like a girl, Jeanne had begun making more and more blatant overtures upon Hikari, all of which he was still oblivious to.
“Actually,” Hikari began walking away, distracted. “I’m going to the rooftop-“ As he wound around the desks, the strap of his messenger bag caught on a chair and suddenly Hikari found himself yanked backwards, hitting the ground with a loud smack. A beat, and there was pain, oh so much pain crawling from the back of his head, down to his shoulders.
“Hikari! Are you alright?” Jeanne was at his side, helping him up. She was unsurprisingly strong, but all Hikari could think of as his head buzzed painfully was that her carefully manicured nails were nothing like Sugiura’s.
Obviously, he had a concussion.
“Ow!” He cradled the back of his head. “Yeah, sure. Probably a concussion, but, great.” Hikari looked around, sighing at the sprawl of his belongings on the floor. Jeanne had already bent over, picking up his pens and notebooks.
“H-here!” Akane suddenly shoved Hikari’s sketchbook at him. She was flushed and seemed to avoid his eyes as she leaned down to tug a protesting Jeanne away.
Hikari was left by himself, with an aching head, suspecting exactly why Akane had left so fast. Groaning, he shoved the rest of his things on his bag haphazardly.
“I think she saw.” Chiaki stage-whispered.
“Thank you for that.” Hikari muttered. He got to his feet, brushing off his pants and skulking out of the room. At least, with all the rumors floating around about him already, the fact that he drew yaoi would hopefully be a small sensation.
Outside the door, Hikari froze as he saw the familiar line of Sugiura’s body. He was leaning against the wall, talking animatedly with Akane, probably asking her to eat lunch with him. Before either could see him, Hikari ducked out of the room and fairly sprinted to the boy’s bathroom. Half of him almost anticipated Sugiura’s voice, calling him back with a half-laughing tone.
Hey Picasso, You’re not drawing anything dirty in there, are you?
“Okay,” He breathed angrily as he slammed into a stall, talking more to himself than to Chiaki. “This drawing’s done all the damage it’s going to.” He opened his sketchbook and savagely tore out the picture he had drawn this morning.
Right now, Akane was probably blabbing to Sugiura all about how much of a freak Hikari was. Which was just great. Just imagining the look of shock and disgust on Sugiura’s face made Hikari grit his teeth and tear the paper in his hand to shreds. Then, with an empty, numb feeling, he tossed them into the toilet and flushed.
It’s okay, Sugiura was never really his friend anyway. He just followed Akane around like a brain-damaged puppy. Hikari didn’t know why he felt the need to kick the bathroom door on the way out.
Chiaki trailed behind worriedly, but Hikari didn’t say a word as he trudged to the staircase.
“Hey!” It was Sugiura’s voice, ringing from down the hall.
Hikari just kept walking, a small increase in the speed of his steps the only indicator that he had heard Sugiura at all.
“Hey, Picasso!” Sugiura’s voice grew louder. He jogged down the hallway, weaving around a pair of girls by the lockers, a boy carrying a grey box. “Wait up!”
“Hikari,” Chiaki warned, right before Sugiura’s arm shot out and he grabbed Hikari’s shoulder, spinning him around.
“What, you deaf or something?” Sugiura panted lightly.
There was a familiar flicker of emotion that ran through Hikari’s face when he saw Sugiura, before he twisted it into a scowl. “You want something?” He asked, trying to conceal the tremor in his voice.
“Yeah,” Sugiura threw him a weird look. “To have lunch.”
There was that emotion again. Pure surprise, as if Hikari still couldn’t believe that a popular kid like Sugiura was giving him the time of day, much less tracking him down for lunch. He didn’t know it, but it flashed through his face every time he looked at Sugiura.
“Com’on, Akane told me where you were.” Sugiura went on, unaware of how Hikari flinched when he had said Akane’s name. “She also said that she couldn’t eat with us today.” A confused look crossed Sugiura’s face. “I think she’s mad at me for some reason.”
“She didn’t …” Hikari blurted out, then stopped himself at the patient, expectant look in Sugiura’s eyes. “Nevermind,” He muttered.
Sugiura just threw a smile over his shoulder and began walking to the cafeteria. Hikari followed automatically, quickening his pace to catch up with his friend.
“ … so Picasso, ever gonna tell me what you were drawing in class today?”
Hikari’s negative reply was probably meant to be defensive, but it came out sputtering like a dunked kitten, which was probably why Sugiura laughed.
Chiaki smiled to herself as she withdrew a rectangle of paper from her blazer and unfolded it, comparing the sketched Hikari and Sugiura to the real ones. Still a bit of work to do, but it was good for a beginner.
