Work Text:
Trains, Kazunari has learned, are not conducive to good art.
He probably shouldn’t be drawing here in the first place, honestly; he doesn’t have any notes for the next poster—Tsuzuru isn’t even finished with the script yet—and all of his assignments are finished. (Now it’s just a matter of getting his diploma and stepping into the terrifying world of post-college life.) But ever since Sky Gallery’s run ended, he’s been practically consumed by the need to keep drawing with every ounce of free time he has. Even on particularly bumpy rides to the next stop on their tour.
So now, because Kazunari couldn’t wait two hours to get off the train and into their hotel room, his sketch of the train car around him is ruined. Wonderful!
“Aw, it’s okay, Kazu~” Misumi watches Kazunari erase the not-so-straight lines of his sketch in an attempt to salvage it. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Rationally speaking, Misumi’s right. It doesn’t have to be perfect. No one’s gonna see it, he’s not putting it up in a gallery somewhere, so what does it matter if the lines are a little bit more curved than he intended?
Well, it matters to Kazunari. It matters to the part of his brain that insists that he has to keep presenting the absolute best image of himself, even when no one’s looking. (Even when the only people who are looking are Summer Troupe, who know all his best and worst parts already.)
“Yeah, it does,” Kazunari grumbles, erasing a little bit harder. (Oh, he wore a hole into the paper. At least it’s just an old notebook rather than one of his good sketchbooks.)
Misumi giggles. “You sound like Tsuzu~”
“Wow, Sumi, that hurts!” Kazu nudges Misumi with his shoulder, not actually offended but, you know, it’s the principle of it all. “I know what a decent sleep schedule is at least.”
“He’s getting better,” Sumi mumbles, sparing a fond glance at the window Tsuzuru’s currently sleeping against. “But that’s not what I meant! You guys worry too much.” He snatches the notebook and the pencil out of Kazu’s hands, resting it on his suitcase. “Let me try!”
Kazunari can’t say no to Misumi—plus, it is just an old notebook—so he doesn’t try to take them back, opting to watch Sumi sketch something out instead. Misumi doesn’t seem to care about the rules, about composition or proportions or anything like that—well, of course he doesn’t, Sumi doesn’t go to school for art, and Kazu doesn’t know what kind of art classes he took in high school, if anything. He’s just drawing whatever comes to mind, it seems, taking a look around the train car every minute or so, but not stopping to erase whenever a line gets a little too long or lays a little too thick on the page.
Well, that is the difference between Kazunari and Misumi; Misumi doesn’t really seem to care about what people think. He’s constantly marching to the beat of his own drum, happy to welcome anyone who wants to keep him company but not being too fussed about anyone else.
(Kazunari remembers Misumi’s father; okay, actually, maybe Misumi does care. Or used to care, anyway.)
The final product won’t be technically-sound or anything like that, that much is both obvious and expected. And it’s definitely not perfect, even outside of that. But Kazunari still likes it.
“Ta-da!” Misumi shoves the notebook back into Kazunari’s hands. “What do you think, Kazu?”
As expected, it’s not perfect; some lines are too thick or too thin, and the focal points are all wrong. But, again, Kazunari still likes it.
“Looks good, Sumi!” Kazu tells him.
Misumi frowns. (Frowns?) “Really? You can tell me if you don’t like it, you know.”
“I do like it, Sumi!” Oh, no, is this one of those situations where Kazu said the wrong thing and now Sumi’s going to hate him—
Misumi points at the Super Mister Triangle just off-center in his drawing. “His eyes aren’t right.”
Kazu nudges him. “That doesn’t make it bad, Sumi.” It’s weird that he went into this worrying about his own art and now he has to reassure Misumi that his drawing is still good.
“Then why would yours be bad?”
Oh. That’s what Sumi was getting at, huh? That people will still like his art—still like him—even if it’s not perfect, even if he messes up along the way?
Well, that’s kinda a flawed analogy, right? Since it’s Sumi and all. Sumi’s special.
(So is Tsuzuroon. The three of them make up their own special corner of Mankai, in whatever form it ultimately ends up taking. Which, if Sumi ever makes a move, will probably—hopefully—end up being more romantic than anything else.)
(Well, okay, sure, Tsuzuroon or Kazunari can step up instead, but Tsuzuru’s dealing with enough of a shift that Kazu doubts he can chance yet another personal life shake-up, assuming that’s even what he wants. And Kazu? Well. Maybe Kazu has a bit of growing left to do, needs a bit more time to become a little more sure of himself before he’s ready to step up.)
(Okay, Kazu might be kind of a hypocrite.)
“Kazuuu, you’re spacing out,” Misumi mumbles, leaning all of his weight against Kazunari’s side. Right, Sumi asked a question, didn’t he? What answer is he looking for?
“...Cause it’s yours?”
Misumi beams; when Misumi’s happy, the whole world lights up with him, and wow does the train car look so much brighter now. “So your drawings are bound to be even better! Everything Kazu does is nice.”
It’s not an uncommon sentiment, not in the slightest. (Misumi always says he thinks Kazu’s art is nice.) But today, maybe because Misumi wanted to encourage him, maybe just because he needed to hear it after the exhibit and the interview, the words hit a little bit harder.
Kazunari turns the page, starting a new sketch—not out of obligation, just because he wants to. And this time, he only uses his eraser if he really needs it.