painting the stars!

Kazumi watches Kai paint a picture. It's the way they spend time together, after all.

YTTD; Mishima Kazumi, Satou Kai; Non/Pre-Death Game; Kai uses se/hir; Written for datastate.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: N/A

Art shapes Kazumi’s life, in every form possible.

Being an art teacher, he knows this to be obvious—after all, what good would he be if he knew nothing of art’s many forms? It’s a way of life, a creativity that provides more than entertainment for people; a breath of fresh air from mundanity, a billowing breeze that slips through the window’s opening and into his atelier.

He breathes in, the scent of paint filling this very room. Behind thick glasses, Kazumi watches the canvas beside him carefully, every spot of white covered in color. Blues and yellows, purples and whites. Day and night, a symbolism for many things, he knows. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but anything can mean anything to anyone. The homemaker beside him is quite the enigma as well; certainly, there was meaning to this painting.

Without flinching, Kai hums. It’s something se has picked up from him, presumably. It hadn’t been until his former student had noted, se does that humming thing too, after meeting hir for the first time.

“Are you watching me?” Se inquires, a curious lilt to an otherwise rather flat tone.

Kazumi chuckles. “Should I not? I know of people who work better without one looming over them.”

“It’s not very entertaining,” Kai points out. Hir view on whether or not se is intimidated by his gaze remains unknown. “And do you not have your own painting to tend to? Would you prefer I watch you instead?”

“No, I prefer this, so long as you do not mind,” he sets his paintbrush in the large cup of water, and the tray of paint on the side. He stands from the stool, if only to get a better look at the work in progress.

Another hum. Kai remains at work. “Do as you wish. I suppose I cannot turn you away.”

Se dots the bottom of the canvas with few stars. They’re minimal, like the sky he would see whilst driving home. It’s rather underwhelming, considering the busy nights of where he lives, though he enjoys counting the stars that do show themselves. Surely, he should take a trip to see the breathtaking starry skies from a quieter area sometime…

“...They say the smallest details reveal many things about a person. What do you think of it, Kai?”

The homemaker doesn’t respond for a moment, completely invested in the world of mixing paint and carefully calculating each placement of the stars. Kazumi almost thinks se is forming a constellation, initially. It’s somewhat heartwarming to see this dear friend of his become so engaged with painting—the first time he had brought hir here, se had been almost nervous to do anything at all, opting to only attempt to replicate the vase of flowers that were placed by the window. They were chrysanthemums at the time.

Now, however, even with no reference point, Kai’s hands are busy, and so is hir mind, creating a composition that exists nowhere but hir imagination on this blank canvas. Truly, it warms his heart to see one he cares for break out of their shell.

“Do you tire of asking similar questions?” Se jests in reply. He spots the crack of a smile on hir face, so faint that if he hadn’t been watching, he would have overlooked it.

“Hmhm… not necessarily,” Kazumi simply replies. “You’ve answered somewhat differently every time. I am only curious. Would you be willing to indulge again?”

“...I suppose I am.” Se continues to paint, silence befalling hir temporarily. “I do not believe my stance on the subject has changed much, however. I believe you are right. Only the keenest of eyes may notice those lackluster details, if only to put together as much of them as possible in their head.”

Se clears hir throat, hir hand moving up to the top portion of the canvas—the sun.

“On one hand, it’s dangerous. You may believe you withhold yourself from danger by remaining invulnerable, however, anyone can divulge more than they wish, even without knowing. It’s rather inconvenient.”

Kazumi gets the feeling Kai speaks from hir own experience. Se doesn’t speak of his past very much—rarely, a passing joke about eating poison in exchange for uttering a foul word, or a joke about having high pain tolerance due to walking into an electric fence on many occasions—but it was never anything serious. Though he wonders, he’s in no place to prod unless se wishes to say. It took years for him to feel comfortable bringing up his own past, to accept his reality by himself. If Kai still needs that time, he doesn’t mind.

“...On the other,” se’s voice lowers, less confidence in hir own words. “...I admit it is nice to be known. When one surrounds themself with people who care, these small acts of vulnerability are valuable, too—not in the sense of gaining information about another, but in the sense of trust. It is heartwarming to feel fond of the smallest actions of another, no matter how miniscule.”

Kazumi is quiet for a long moment, as Kai’s words sink into the air. Se continues to paint, blending the sun in with the sky. The sun still remains bright, it’s light spilling all over the canvas, and perhaps even “spilling” into the night sky below it.

Eventually, se speaks once more. “...I’m surprised you ask me this often, Kazumi. You claim my answers change, but I assure you they do not.”

“Ohoho… they do. Have you not noticed?” He smiles, pressing his glasses against the bridge of his nose. “That last bit was not the same as last time.”

“Is it not? Perhaps a slip of the tongue.”

I admit it is nice to be known.

“Perhaps, indeed…” Kazumi reaches to get his paintbrush, swirling it in the cup of water before dragging it across the rim to rid of the excess. Then, he meets hir eyes directly, gesturing to the palette. “May I?”

Kai pauses, hir eyes holding a form of inquisition that cannot be easily read. “Feel free. It is your paint, after all.”

Carefully, Kazumi dabs the brush on the white paint, partially mixed with yellow. “Do you recall when I asked how you felt about making a painting with someone?”

“Surely,” se responds, watching idly. Despite it, the air around hir feels slightly tense, almost defending this piece of art hir own hands have created. “Are you going to paint on the canvas?”

“I would only like to add more stars,” he reasons, wiping the extra glob if paint on the side. “If you wish for me to not, however, I will refrain.”

“Is that all?” Se muses, hir eyebrows furrowing. Despite hir confusion, se seems to take him at his word. “...Then by all means.”

With hir consent, he brings his hand up to the canvas, adding more dots of white against the purple, midnight sky. Though each one is controlled, little by little, the stars look like a wonderful mess, much more like the ones a space lover would ache to see. Kai watches from the side, palette in hand, seemingly in a statue-like state as Kazumi works; he wonders if se is pleased. Certainly, if se were bothered, there would be some notion to it by now. Some form of hesitance, anxiousness—but he never saw it from hir, not this time.

In fact, this time, se surprises him . Se sets his palette down on the wooden table, then stands next to Kazumi, joining him in adding these tiny stars in the sky. Initially, se stays in one spot, working in clusters, before eventually branching out and adding white to any small empty areas. Se even adds in a half moon at one point—not as large as the sun above, but significant enough to put the excess sunlight to good use, allowing the resting of the section to be reasonably lit up. Their hands bump, occasionally, earning a few laughs from the artist. At some point, even his dear, so very dear, friend chuckles.

Having invested himself in the homemaker’s work as well, he isn’t particularly aware of his surroundings. It isn’t until he momentarily takes a step back, twirling the paintbrush between his fingers, and—

“Ah—”

—smearing Kai’s cheek with some paint.

Se stands up straight, caught off guard by the cold sensation of hir cheek. Even then, se seems to brush it off easily.

“It appears the… ‘paint monster’ has gotten me,” se notes, surely messing with him. “Whatever will I do…? A predicament I’ve found myself in, certainly.”

“I apologize…!” Kazumi sets down his paintbrush yet again, pushing up his glasses. “I did not mean to hit you. Are you hurt?” He inquires. Besides the smear of white paint across hir skin, there isn’t anything noticeable—still, it’s good to check, anyhow.

Kai hums. “I am fine; do not worry.” Using the edge of the painter’s smock, se reaches up to hir face and wipes off most of it.

“...Ah, you missed a spot,” he points out, gesturing to the area on his own cheek.

Se moves to that area. “Is it gone?”

“No, no, there’s still…” He trails off. Then, he steps forward, rolling down his sleeve to cover up the tattoos again. He stretches the fabric so his finger is underneath its edge. “May I wipe it?”

There’s another pause. Kai says nothing, opting to a simple nod. The lack of verbal communication confuses Kazumi first, admittedly, but when he slowly raises his hand, se doesn’t back away.

And so, he wipes the fabric across Kai’s skin, his other hand resting under hir chin to ensure he doesn’t press too hard. He is no stranger to hir not being very fond of physical touch, so he’s sure to not overstep—yet however, there’s a moment where his actions pause all together, his eyes caught by dark, night-colored ones. If he squints hard enough, he swears the stars on the canvas have also appeared in hir eyes, just maybe.

“...Do you recall our talk from the other day?” Kai inquires, clearing hir throat. He’s never seen him this anxious, though not in an uncomfortable sense—no, se still seems calm. Perhaps its just him, but he’s certain hir skin felt a little warmer. “About your previous partner. Back in college, if memory serves.”

Kazumi nods. “Yes… It was nothing more than a fling, of course. Why do you ask?”

As bluntly as possible, Kai manages; “How… was it?”

And now he’s confused. “What particularly?”

“Ah…” Se suddenly seems uncertain about continuing. Still, se maintains eye contact. “I was referring to… any part of it. I would assume hearing of it is much different than experiencing it firsthand, so I… suppose I am curious.”

“Hmhm…” Kazumi ponders the question. He supposes the fact the two are standing quite close does not help much, though he’s still meant to be wiping off the paint. Resuming the motions with his thumb, he continues.

“It’s different for everyone. The feeling of love, that is. In a sense, you make your own definition of it, and in another, those you are surrounded by define ‘love’.”

He brushed his thumb over hir cheek once the smear was fully gone, then dropped his arms, rolling the dirty sleeve back up.

“...In my case, it was on impulse; they were lovely, and we got along well. I suppose I do not have a reason for pursuing them in particular… It’s never been at the forefront of my mind, so when the feeling arises, going with it is what works for me.”

“I… see.” Kai inhales, returning hir arms to the stance most comfortable; behind hir back, assumably to fidget with them without being seen. Kazumi had seen this with his students on more occasions than one. He was familiar with it. “Would you…”

Se stops.

“...No. Nevermind that.”

“Kai…” Kazumi eyes hir, not immediately dropping the subject. It’s best to be blunt in these situations, he knows, as opposed to beating around the bush for an answer—if Kai started off direct, he would prefer to continue to be direct. “Do you have any experience?”

Se doesn’t even attempt to lie. “I’d be fooling no one if I said yes. Admittedly, it’s not something I’ve ever considered.”

“Hmhm… Pardon my straightforwardness, however—would you care to try? It does not have to mean anything. If you choose to refuse, that is fine by me, too.”

Of course, at most, Kai seems… mildly bewildered. It isn’t even that Kazumi wishes to pursue something romantic with hir, despite the fact he assumes they would be considered ‘close’ to one another. No, no, he’s… mainly curious. Certainly, se would have to be out of hir right mind to agree.

“...I trust its okay to trust you, yes?” A question se doesn’t intend to be answered, so se keeps talking. “Then… Yes. I do not mind.”

Kazumi nods, unsure of how to go about it. He leans forward yet again, this time closer , with more purpose. Kai’s eyes stare into his, and for a moment, he almost thinks his glasses are about to hit hir—thankfully, they do not.

“...Your eyes do not need to be open, Kai,” Kazumi lightheartedly teases, less than an inch away from hir lips.

“I am aware.” Kai replies, attempting to seem unaffected by the joke. Instead, se retaliates, returning with a hum. “However, I suppose I enjoy looking at faces. I would need my eyes open for this, you see.”

Kazumi clicks his tongue. "Yes, yes—though you were also curious about this, were you?"

“Ah… Yes.” Se nods. “I take it that… it’s simply just–”

And then, se leaned into him, closing the gap before Kazumi gets the chance. This kiss doesn’t last very long—of course, it’s nothing more than the homemaker being somewhat curious, and the artist wondering where se was going with this. A few seconds pass, then se pulls back, more imminently embarrassed than earlier. If it weren’t obvious previously, it definitely was now.

Art shows up in many forms. Sometimes, art is paintings, other times, it’s just words and moments.

Sometimes, it’s both. Art is complicated, but forever, Kazumi will cherish it.

“...Thank you?” Kai’s gratitude feels unsure. It’s not what one usually says after kissing another, but se did admit hir experience was quite lackluster, so he’s in no place to judge.

“Hmhm. I think you are very welcome,” he chuckles, stepping back. His gaze finally draws off Kai, trailing over to the painting that had gone unattended to for a few minutes.

Day and night, the daylight’s sun and the night’s stars and moon. He considers how bare the original night sky was; did Kai consider hir life rather troublesome thus far? Adding in all these stars… Kazumi’s left to assume se’s taken comfort in him, in them, although never been stated outright yet. Whatever the case may be, it’s a lovely feeling. It’s like art.

“...Would you like to create another painting?” Kai inquires, lightly gesturing to the other canvas, the one he was meant to be painting on all this time. “Together, that is. We can always pick it up tomorrow, too.”

Kazumi smiles. “Certainly. As you wish, Kai.”

Published July 6, 2023. (Archived December 28, 2023.)