Chapter Text
College, Yotasuke feels sometimes, is a large scale social experiment. It's where people can be as insane as they want with no real repercussions. 4 month long extra curricular activity? Sure. Deadline is tomorrow? Why not. No paint? Pick some off the floor. Need a canvas? Paint over your old one.
He's wearing a t-shirt now, half of his arms exposed, and Yatora tells him, laughing, "you look kinda naked, man." Yotasuke finds that extremely creepy, but this is college. And he does feel naked.
They're hanging out again. Just the two of them.
Yotasuke watches the other boy making shapes with french fries and sauce. It's making a mess on the table. Yatora is talking because Yotasuke won't. Because Yotasuke is busy recording this moment very carefully in his mind; he wants to go back home and tell his mom none of it.
"It's no fun with just two people," Yaguchi says, hoping to get a reaction out of the introvert, "we should invite Hashida next time."
"No," Yotasuke replies curtly. He said it unthinkingly. No is the first word that comes to mind in regards to Hashida.
Yatora sighs, big and loud. "Why do you hate him so much, dude?" When he looks up, the blond has stopped playing with his food and is looking straight at him. Cat eyes, wide and round, holding a microphone to his face.
This is why he hangs out with this boy, he thinks. If this was his mother, she would say, "I don't know why you're like this," and then turn around and leave. Yaguchi, on the other hand, is always waiting for an opportunity to pounce on him, open him up. He'll devour everything Yotasuke has to offer.
"I don't hate him," the artist speaks up, grateful for the platform his friend has provided, no matter how annoying it is for Yotasuke to hear his own voice. "I just don't like him. Uh, his art. Not, him, as a person, but his, um, is more..."
He wrings his hands in frustration and shuts up.
Yaguchi takes his lame excuse seriously. "Hmm, I have seen some of his art, at least, I didn't think it was bad. It was really good, actually, he's like a pro!"
Yotasuke's brows crease. "But it's so... fake." Then he feels guilty. He's a mean person, but these days he's been getting feelings. "Don't tell him I said that."
"Okay," Yaguchi says it with very trustworthy vibes. "But tell me more about Hashida. You know him better than me." He's trying to get him to talk more, the sneaky bastard.
"Let me finish my burger," he replies, leaving out the "piss off."
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College is, sometimes, like a safe space. When he's alone like this, surrounded by empty canvases. He can breathe freely.
Yatora walks into the atelier, but it's not a surprise. Yotasuke had identified his footsteps a few minutes ago.
"Hey," Yaguchi is cheerful.
Yotasuke just looks at him. The newcomer joins him on the floor. "What's up?"
"Nothing."
They sit in silence. Yotasuke is fine with it until his phone starts ringing. A shrill, painful noise.
He fumbles before picking it up. "Mom," no matter how quiet he wants to be, everything echoes in the empty room. Yaguchi looks away politely to give him some privacy.
His mom is asking when he'll be back home. If he's had lunch yet. He lies that he ate already. He tells her he'll be back when he's done with his work.
The call leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He checks the time.
"Hey, if you're free right now," Yaguchi is speaking in a serious, business-like tone, "do you wanna hang out? I've got nothing else to do."
"You think I'm pathetic, right?" Is what he wants to ask, but Yotasuke gives up on that fight. "Thank you," he mumbles softly.
"Let's have lunch," Yatora smiles.
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College is a pain in the ass sometimes. There's always something or the other happening. Yotasuke doesn't have the luxury to sit still these days.
"It's just awkward," he insists.
"No it's not!" Yaguchi is able to talk in lower case and exclamations at the same time. They're in Geidai, walking the path between two buildings. Hashida had apparently called Yaguchi the other day to let him know about an art exhibition. He asked to bring his friends with him.
"Hashida is the kind of person," Yatora declares, "who always makes sure people are comfortable around him! Even when he's talking about Picasso's sex life!"
"Yes. I know," he rolls his eyes. "But it's awkward between us. Me and him, okay?"
Yaguchi falls silent, but it's screaming "Tell me why! I want to know so bad!" However, he courteously doesn't want to intrude. Yotasuke sighs.
"A long time ago, in school... he was trying to be my friend, so he showed me his sketchbook." He pauses. "I didn't know he was trying to be my friend." He pauses again. "I told him his drawings were all wrong. I pointed out all the wrong stuff."
"That sort of thing... I'm sure he's forgotten about that now. It was long ago, right?"
Yotasuke shakes his head vehemently. "He started crying. A lot. Very loudly. The teacher showed up and everything."
"Oh."
"Afterwards he started acting normal again. But he remembers. I know. He's just pretending."
Yatora nods slowly. "I totally get it. Things will get even more awkward if you apologize now, because it was such a long time ago."
"Right."
"I guess you could try... critiquing some of his new art. Tell him he's good?"
Yotasuke considers the stupid idea. "I haven't seen him paint lately. Since cram school."
"But he's obviously gotten better since then!"
Yotasuke's mouth forms a flat line. "Hmm."
"He was so calm during the exam. He doesn't look like the crying type. You don't look like you cry, either... I'm the only crybaby here."
Yotasuke gives him a strange look. "Everyone cries," he mumbles.
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It was that conversation, Yotasuke knows. It weakened his resolve. He cried in college, infront of his friend. It was the first time his tears spilled out when he wasn't locked in the bathroom.
"I don't like art," he had said. Now things were awkward.
Yotasuke watched from the corner of his eye as Yatora talked cheerfully with his circle of friends. They were literally forming a circle around him. There was a fashionably dressed girl in the group. And another person wearing platform heels. They looked like a guy.
Yatora turned his head. Their eyes met.
Yotasuke got up and stuffed his pencils into his bag before speed walking away.
