Chapter Text
Steve stops at the door and takes a minute to fish his inhaler from the bottom of his bag. He takes two gulps out of it, before sliding into the classroom as discreetly as someone could with wheezing breath and two left feet. Luckily for him, the teacher isn’t there yet. No student grants him more than half a second of attention. He’s used to it. No one notices him, ever, not unless they have something to ask of him.
This drawing class is the last one of his week, and the one he looks forward to the most. This semester, they are working on disability and illness, which interests Steve greatly – once the students are finished with the thousands of unfunny jokes about him being a perfect model.
He doesn’t really blame them, but being reminded all the time of his inadequacy is exhausting. Steve is small. Like… tiny small. And skinny up to a fault. Always sick... bad back... bad breath... bad health. There’s not much that works properly with him.
But one thing that does work is his hands. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s very good at what he does. Portraits - well, human models in general - are his forte. He’s especially good at capturing the raw soul of his model on canvas. At making the paintings exude his love and respect for them, whatever they look like. But he can’t see it, so he doesn’t understand why people look at him the way they do, in class or when he dares to show his work.
He tries to shake the feeling away. It’s not like he didn’t spend his whole childhood and teenage years being rejected by everyone. He doesn’t fit in, never has and doubts he ever will. He’s been hit one too many times, and built himself a shell as hard as a rock. His ma – God rest her soul – used to call him her little oyster. So hard to open, and hiding the most gorgeous pearl of all, she said. He thinks she was probably the only pearl he had.
His teacher’s arrival forces Steve back to the present.
“So we have finished our work with Mrs. Carter – and if you weren’t done, it’s not my problem anymore. I want all your work on my desk before you leave.”
Mrs. Carter was an old lady, suffering from Alzheimer’s. Steve had loved drawing her, had loved talking with her even more – even if it sometimes was a little disjointed. Steve thinks she was probably a gorgeous woman when she was younger. She still is somehow. Incredibly strong, too, from what he understood. He will miss her. In fact, he’ll probably go and visit her at her nursing home. (Her niece – who was always escorting her - said it was ok. That Mrs. Carter liked him very much as well.)
“Today we’re starting a two-month project with a new model, and I hope you will all be as welcoming with him as you’ve been with her. As with the last project, you get to choose if you’ll do a head-and-shoulder or a full-length portrait. However, I strongly advise against the head portrait here. I’ll be there if you need any help, and will walk among you to see where you are heading or give you advice on your previous works. Now please welcome Mr. Barnes, and start drawing.”
Steve looks up to see a tall, dark haired man entering the classroom. He feels his breath catch a little as the man walks to the model stage. His shoulders are broad, and his hair reaches all the way down to them, falling thickly around his face. His eyes are the most beautiful blue Steve has ever seen; nearly grey, like a stormy sea. It’s not until the man takes off the robe covering his body that Steve realises his left arm stops abruptly below the shoulder. Steve’s eyes follow the webs of scarring radiating from the stump and sprawling down his left side, then go back up to the man’s face. Once again, Steve loses his breath. This time not because the man’s face is a masterpiece, well, not only because of it. His face is perfectly balanced and utterly gorgeous. No. Steve’s breath stops because of the way the man’s eyes are browsing the students in the room, guarded, but with a challenge in them. What type of challenge Steve isn’t entirely sure, but these next few weeks are going to be very interesting.
His eyes roam over the naked body on stage once more. Very interesting indeed. Provided he manages to keep his blood where it’s supposed to be; irrigating his brain instead of running straight down south…