Chapter Text
Scaramouche was a coffee person. He'd drink coffee out of the same sixteen-ounce aluminum mug every day, the one his mother gave him on his thirteenth birthday. He would sit down and have a cup when he woke up, he would bring it to school with a leaky lid cover, and then he would have his last cup with a side of his algebra textbook.
Scaramouche never loved his mother enough to go through so much trouble, but the cup grew on him. The finish wore down where he would place his lips to take a drink, and you could almost see his handprint through the dull wear. He would drink coffee three times a day for years.
The time he almost quit was a month into his first job. He was seventeen working at a local Starbucks. He felt his affinity towards coffee would extend into a love for his job, and maybe he would even be devoted enough to make big money. His love shriveled up and died, however, as the redundant smell of coffee grounds for hours at a time nauseated him. His breaks when he would be kissing his aluminum cup were spent over the toilet instead, attempting to throw up an empty stomach to make the feeling go away. Too bad, he never quit. His job nor his addiction. He didn't even realize it was killing him. He would chug a cup of coffee just to hurl it into the toilet after, and he would use his job to supply his means.
Scaramouche was a pitiful man.
//
Kunikuzushi took a sip out of his coffee as he worked on his assignment. Writing bored him out of his mind. He'd rather be literally anywhere else, doing anything else, than narrate the life of a boring man for words on end.
He brought his hands down from his keyboard in defeat, staring at the screen harshly and thinking absent-mindedly about how to erase the assignment from existence. He conclusively decides he's going to take a different class, far from anything like creative writing.
Maybe I should go for Philosophy or something, he supposes internally then sighs out loud. He glanced around. If he were being honest, Kunikuzushi felt out of place sitting in the cafe. It's not as if he's dressed any differently, or if he wasn't normally here on his days off. The AC, perhaps, felt too chilly for his short-sleeved tee. Or, on the off-chance, his coworker called in sick and he's caught a trace virus in the air.
Or maybe it's because there's a new customer in the building. It's a small cafe Kunikuzushi is in almost every day, full of only regulars, yet the blonde ponytail in the distance is an unfamiliar presence.
Kunikuzushi almost talked up the boy next to him, but his phone started blaring an embarrassing tune and he quickly picked it up, murmuring apologies. So much for shaking off nerves. Kunikuzushi just decided to pack up his things as well.
There's an art exhibit today, isn't there? Kunikuzushi contemplated going. It was a small one, it was going to be held in the Fine Arts branch of his college. As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he considered inviting Thoma. Though, he seemed busy with his phone call earlier.
Too bad for him, Kunikuzushi doesn't have a life, so he starts ringing Thoma.
…
"...The numb–," He hung up. He wasn't expecting a response anyways. He could always ask his ex, but they haven't talked in years. He doesn't have anyone to really hang out with.
Kunikuzushi is kind of lonely. Maybe he can be part of the exhibit, titled "The Lonely Boy With No One to go on Friendly Dates With. "
Yeah, he's going to go alone.
//
Kunikuzushi was standing in front of a naked man. He was beautiful, for starters. His floor-length brunette hair fell past those pale shoulders like a waterfall violently clashing against the water it formed, and his eyes were averted in a modest gaze as if he couldn't look up without compromising his peace. It was as if he felt truly vulnerable, despite the lighting of the room also averting its focus from the model's presence. Kunikuzushi almost laughed at the painting, even the room didn't wish to look at him. He wondered if the model was afraid, almost fearful, of his own nudity.
Kunikuzushi glanced to his side, only slightly taken aback by a familiar hairstyle assaulting his gaze. He was more focused on the figure behind it, a perfectly chiseled statue with the same model as the painting he just saw.
The uncontrolled nature of the painting reflected nothing of the idol in front of it. The placement of it naturally made Kunikuzushi feel a little stupid for not seeing it earlier. It was in front of the painting, almost providing the same presence gold has next to iron.
The idol had shorter hair and was only represented in white, it was easy to mistake that this and the painting hadn't shared the same muse. The only similarity between this and the painting was its nuts looked the exact same. Joking, of course. Kunikuzushi couldn't tell if it was the pose, the exaggerated scaling, or maybe the stark difference in medium to represent the same model. Still, the statue had an air of confidence that the painting did not have. It had its hair cut up to its shoulders, and looked right at the people below it, but it lacked something. Perhaps all statues lack life. Kunikuzushi couldn't tell, it was the first one of a human being he's seen.
Kunikuzushi stared at the sculpture for three seconds. He wasn't conscious of how long he's been at the entire shrine-like set-up until a voice from under his nose spoke up.
"You've been viewing these pieces for a while," observed the blonde man. "Do you like them?"
"Eh, so-so," Kunikuzushi replied dryly.
"And what's so-so?" The stranger inquired, looking straight at him. His eyes looked familiar, but Kunikuzushi thought nothing of it. He glanced back at the painting to answer his question.
"This ass seems bipolar," Kunikuzushi replied in a very stylish way.
He fucking wished he could say that. This could've been the artist, innocently trying to gain insight on how to create more fluid and fleshed-out expressions. He certainly didn't need to do all of that, though.
"He's beautiful," Kunikuzushi replied simply. He's beautiful, sure, but he cut his hair like those manic pixie girls who bleached half their hair to look like their musical icon.
"Is this statue him as well?" Until now, they were standing in place, but Kunikuzushi started a slow pace to get a good front view of the idol. Honestly, he couldn't care less about this model's ascension to mental illness, but he feels the need to talk lightly, so as to not scare this cutie he's trying to bag.
"It should be, yes." The stranger continued making direct eye contact with Kunikuzushi, and he suddenly felt a breeze of scrutiny blow past his face, reflexively averting his own eyes. "The painting is quite old, by a couple years now. Its slight degradation is due to a negligent varnishing process." He was closer to the statue, so he only needed to turn his body towards Kunikuzushi. The man spoke slightly, sullen at the dulling of a perfectly good painting.
"What's your name?"
"Kuni…" He trailed off when he met the blue eyes of the man with the painting in view. When he made eye contact with the statue, it was in monochrome, but…
"Kuzushi." He finished.
"Kuni Kuzushi? Dropping your last name so fast?" The man shifted with an expression near lifeless to look at the statue in front of the two, as if it pained him to even look at it. An artist's maternal gaze , Kunikuzushi supposes.
"No, sorry, it's one name," Kunikuzushi corrected shamefully. The man glanced towards him fleetingly, only to say his name and look back. "Albedo, then."
Kunikuzushi's gaze, on the other hand, lingered enough to realize where he'd seen Albedo's hair before.
"Did you follow me from the cafe?"
"Yes." Those bright blue eyes glared shamelessly at Kunikuzushi once again. "How's that blondie doing now, the one you were with?"
It seems Albedo is an observational stalker. Kunikuzushi seemed to better understand his own nerves from earlier. "He's going to a convention with his friend," Those words allowed the topic to fizzle, with Albedo staring at him even after he finished speaking. Constant waves of scrutiny, he thinks.
"I have nothing to do and nowhere to be, would you like to walk through this exhibit with me?" Kunikuzushi haphazardly proposed, looking anywhere but at him. Albedo may be weird and unsettling, but Kunikuzushi has no desire to be alive anyways. "Of course," He trailed off.
"Did you not like the painting?" Albedo brought up the subject from just a few minutes ago as they start walking away.
"He was beautiful," Kunikuzushi confessed, loud and clear, "but I have no interest in nude models."
//
His impromptu date with Albedo went well, it ended with a kiss on the cheek and a number exchange.
In all honesty, Kunikuzushi was never one for a tender or long-lasting relationship, so he kind of wished they never had to see each other ever again. He regretted taking it slow the moment the kiss was planted on his cheek and not his lips.
Should've just bedded him, he thought. His phone vibrated just then, it was Albedo. The door clicked open as he read the message.
"My place on tuesday, around 15?" Followed by the address to an apartment two streets away. Huh, guess I still can. Thoma placed down a plastic bag of various sundries.
"How did the convention go?"
He didn't answer, walking towards the bathroom to strip and brush his teeth. He hasn't had dinner yet.
Kunikuzushi looked away as his roommate gave out and collapsed on the floor, mere feet away from his bed.
He texted Albedo back. "i'll be there."
He took one of Thoma's blankets to drape over the man, careful not to graze his tender spots and headed down to the cafeteria.
"I'll get you something to eat."
"Don't bother…"
He did anyways.
//
Kunikuzushi, approaching the steps to the slightly run-down apartment, tucked one of his earbuds in his shirt to prepare to punch in the code Albedo sent him.
Taking in the new environment, he chose the stairs instead of the elevator, especially since it was only the third floor. In the stairwell, there were windows to let in the sky that was on the path to being shrouded in clouds. It should be greying soon, Kunikuzushi predicted, a habit to decipher what natural lighting would occur after another.
He knocked twice on Apt 327, Albedo's apartment. They were followed up with sounds of a chain being fumbled with and the safety above the doorknob messily being unlocked.
When the door opened, Kunikuzushi was met with the smell of cigarette smoke and paint mediums. I expected as much, he was the artist. Albedo welcomed him in, "It's a little earlier than I expected, sit down and I'll get you some water." Kunikuzushi takes a seat and his gaze lingers only a little over Albedo preparing the glasses, then he starts checking out his apartment.
For starters, it's cold and the place was cluttered with canvases and old paint rags, but the trash looks like it's been taken out just this morning. Albedo seemed to have cleaned everywhere else for his guest, his furniture dusted and no snack wrappers to be seen anywhere out of the trash in the kitchen, so why not the paper towels on the floor, used for painting? They were all well-worn, so it seemed to be a collection accumulated over a while.
Overall, Albedo's apartment is small. It's more like a studio apartment, having no rooms besides the bathroom, but it has all the necessities. Storage drawers, a bed, kitchen, bathroom—it's clearly liveable, but cramped. With canvases at every corner, his painting supplies appear to be on the verge of collapse. His multiple painting palettes were stacked on top of one another where one could bump into the corner and suffice to make it all crash down. There were meaningless props ranging from dried bouquets of flowers to antique telephones. The actual paint tubes are hidden from where Kunikuzushi's sitting, but there seems to be a lot of tubes on the floor as well, ranging in sizes anywhere from five milliliters to 100. What's also hidden from his view is the painting on the easel, and Albedo watching him check out his apartment.
Albedo sets down the glasses of iced water. "Taking it all in?"
"Says you," Kunikuzushi is only slightly flustered, happy to take a drink and then take out his earbuds fully. Setting his phone on the table with the wires wrapped around its width, he takes in just a bit more of his surroundings. The window with a fan in front of it was open, seeming to be Albedo's usual smoking spot. There were big bottles of some kind of paint solution on the floor, half-finished paintings next to where the paints were stored, and an assortment of brushes ready to tip over at the slightest miscalculation.
Kunikuzushi looks back to the man in front of him, "Why'd you want me here today?"
Albedo smiled curtly at him, then he grabbed both of their glasses and walked towards the open window. Kunikuzushi, with complete loyalty to his glass of water, followed him. Albedo set his own glass on the window frame, handed Kunikuzushi's back, and gestured him to sit on the bed beside him. Albedo picked up a used pack of cigarettes and fingered two sticks out of the box, offering both to Kunikuzushi who took him up on it.
"Put both of them in your mouth." Albedo started to talk as he lit them, "I wish to paint you, Kunikuzushi."
He nearly dropped the cigarettes gaping at those words.
Once he finished lighting them, Albedo snatched one up for himself as he cycled the canvas panel on his smaller easel for a fresh one.
Then and there, Albedo laid down the teal base color for his first painting of Kunikuzushi.