Work Text:
School being over on a Saturday meant that any leftover case files from the week had to be looked through before Sunday. It wasn’t really a full night’s worth of work since he’d kept up with it and that would pay off eventually. He didn’t have any extracurriculars on his schedule today so he had planned on heading right home with his laptop and getting his work out of the way early on. He was heading out to his locker, slowing down to a stop outside a room he could hear someone talking in. Eavesdropping wasn’t a very polite thing to do but . . . Was someone talking to themself? He only heard one voice and it was so loud . . . Maybe that wasn’t the right word exactly. He could only hear the voice clearly when he got close to the classroom. Passionate might have been better?
Akechi’s curiosity got the better of him this one time and he stepped into the room, seeing paintings and sculptures hung up on the walls and placed all around desks. Oh. An art room. This was far from his forte. He was going to just walk back out, go on and bike home without anything else distracting him the rest of the night.
“ It’s . . . just outstanding . . . ! “
The loud outburst had Akechi folding his arms, one eyebrow raising up. Was this kid alright? Just talking to himself like this? Akechi supposed he wasn’t one to talk with all the conversations he held with himself inside his head but . . . Those didn’t count. They stayed in his head. Where conversations you had with yourself rightfully belonged.
Akechi thought this kid was definitely not okay, especially watching as he jumped up off of his seat, slipping on some obstacle or another and crashing into the easel holding the painting he must have been so proud of. The older boy winced at that, walking over and kicking the now empty stool out of his way, holding a gloved hand out after a moment.
“ That looked like it really hurt. Are you okay - “
His hand was brushed away rudely, the other student scrambling over to the fallen painting, careful not to touch it’s surface and only the sides as he examined it. A relieved sigh filled the room a moment later and Akechi scoffed, just folding his arms again. What was wrong with this kid . . .
“ What? It doesn’t matter. My project is fine so it’s alright . . . “
That’s what he said, sure, but Akechi could see the pain in his face, clear as day. That fall must have hurt. The painting was really that important? That he didn’t mind getting hurt over it? Was every artist like this with their work? Or was it just this one, so passionate that he literally tripped over himself in excitement.
“ Do you need help standing up? “
The boy pushed blue hair back behind his ear and shook his head, making it just as messy as it was before.
“ No, I’m fine, like I said. I just have to stand this back up - “
He moved to get to his feet and winced, falling back on his heels before stretching his legs out in front of himself. The detective pressed his lips together. Fune, he’d let the kid be stubborn then. At the very least he could put the painting back upright for him. He grabbed the edges carefully, following the boy’s example from a few moments ago and only holding it by the edges, placing it on an empty stand nearby. He looked at it with a frown as he made sure it wouldn’t fall again.
. . . Outstanding. This? Akechi . . . couldn’t even tell what was going on. It was a mostly grey and brown, cloudy, blobby, blocky looking thing with streaks of sharp, pointy colors sticking out at random points.
He wasn’t an art connoisseur by any stretch of the word but . . .
“ You tripped over this? Really. . . . What is it? It looks muddy and dirty. I barely even want to touch it. You sounded so excited over it. It looks like something a child could make honestly. “
He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. Or . . . most of that, really. Looking at it just made him want to say the first thing on his mind which was so unusual he hadn’t tried to do anything different. He heard a snort, looking over at the boy holding his ankle and glaring flatly his way. Oh. He’d offended him? Of course, with a comment like that. Comments like those. He was about to give a small smile and an apology before the student spoke up over him.
“ You sound like you don’t have even the slightest clue of what you’re looking at. I’m glad it looks dirty and untouchable. It’s just a school project. I don’t need to take it home. “
He was glad it looked like garbage? Was he one of those rebellious, hipster types? One of those modern artists who threw whatever was on hand or nearby on a canvas, thinking it was profound and calling it a masterpiece? Akechi was going to speak up before he was cut off for the second time, his eyebrow twitching once.
“ It doesn’t have a name right now but I’ve been trying to get this right every day for three weeks now. It’s . . . it doesn’t look like anything I’d normally make, thank God. Does it look anything but dirty to you? That’s the only thing you can see here? “
Akechi stood back, tilting his head and placing a hand under his chin as he hummed. Anything else but dirty? What was he even supposed to say? What did this kid really want to hear? Looking at this painting and the boy sitting on the floor, Akechi actually had no idea what he was supposed to say. He didn’t know what he was supposed to see here. He squinted and leaned closer, trying to distinguish shapes or decipher some hidden meanings in all these forms.
“ It looks . . . dusty, like a window that hasn’t been cleaned in ages. And murky, like you’re looking through dirty water or maybe even a bit of fog. I don’t know what those other shapes are supposed to be though. The brown and grey ones? . . . What, are they people? What are those bright colors? Random points to draw your eye around the canvas? What is this supposed to mean overall? You’re the artist, so tell me, what are you trying to say here? I’ve said all I can see. What is it supposed to be really? “
He didn’t wish to play a guessing game he was more than likely to lose. People said the meaning of art was subjective and depended almost entirely on who was viewing it but what if he said something entirely wrong in front of the artist himself? He didn’t wish to deal with that. If he knew something about this kid he could at least make some kind of educated guess but, he refused to make a fool of himself over something so abstract and absurd.
“ Those are not people at all. They are monsters, things given some sort of shape. Things a child might be afraid to see too early in the morning. And the colors there, don’t they look like they’re cutting into the monsters? Like weapons of some sort? “
Akechi stared at the artist on the floor with narrowed eyes before looking back at his painting. Monsters that a child might be afraid of in the morning? Wasn’t it the dark and things that couldn’t be seen in the night that were the worst? That were the most terrifying when you were younger? He looked closer at the strikes of color he’d thought were completely random at first. A different perspective like this let them seem almost shaped like weapons, sticking out of the blobs of murky brown and dark grey. Like the student had said, almost like they were cutting into them.
“ . . . So why monsters in the early morning? Why not monsters in the dead of night? Aren’t those supposed to be worse? “
Akechi moved to sit on the stool he’d kicked before as the boy looked at him.
“ The things that you think hear or think you see at night could be tricks your mind plays on you. If you close your eyes or fall asleep quick enough, they end up being nothing more than figures of your imagination more often than not. Those aren’t nearly as bad as things you wake up to that end up being real every time. Right? Certain things you can brush off as dreams or something of the sort. Others are very obviously real and don’t retreat as the sun comes up, even if you wish they would. Those are much worse, don’t you think? “
Akechi just stared at the artist for a few long moments. What would make him . . . Where would something like that come from? Did he really have an imagination that vibrant? Or was it some kind of experience he was speaking from . . . Akechi could understand that, waking up to things as bad as anyone else’s nightmares, but they were only reality in his eyes. He looked back at the painting and it didn’t seem quite as random or childish as he’d first thought. If he looked closer he could see some kind of intent behind blurred shapes and the foggy looking quality. He could see something in the scattered sparks of color.
“ So, you painted a nightmare of yours then? “
The artist’s eyes widened and he shook his head.
“ What? No, that’s not what it is. It’s . . . Just a thought that came to me. I’ve had weeks to think over and refine it, that’s all. “
Akechi tilted his head and leaned closer.
“ Really? That didn’t sound like ‘ just a thought ‘ you were speaking of there. It sounded like a lot more than that to me. Do you always paint your nightmares? Is that why you hope your paintings look disgusting? “
The boy frowned, shaking his head harder.
“ You’re wrong! I don’t want every piece I make to seem disgusting - My dream is to paint things that anyone would find beautiful or awe inspiring. I want to capture things that are truly beautiful and spread those things for everyone to see and admire. I can’t do that if everything I daydream of is tainted like this, can I? To reach a pedestal that high and pristine, trudging through this sort of muck and mud is necessary. If I let go of things like this, if I leave them out where they can be seen, then one day I’ll be able to capture things with a purity that’s beyond my current skill set. “
The emotions in his voice took Akechi aback. He’d offended him again?
“ Don’t take it so personally. This is the only thing of yours I’ve seen, after all. I wouldn’t think that if I saw something you think is beautiful. I’d be able to judge off of that. This, you said it yourself, is disgusting in a way. I . . . understand it a little better now I think but it’s a very far cry from beautiful. I understand what you’re trying to say. If you get rid of anything like this, what’s left, by default, would have to be what you find beautiful, right? “
The artist sighed and nodded.
“ My apologies . . .But, yes, that’s what I’m getting at. A day like that is far off, but I don’t mind it so much if I can . . . Ah. Nevermind. “
Akechi held his hands up and smiled.
“ Don’t be sorry. I’m the one that insulted your apparent passion. It was nice chatting with you but shouldn’t we be on our ways now? “
Akechi tilted his head and stood up, holding his hand out again.
“ . . . My ankle hurts. I think I hurt it when I tripped on that brush. “
He grabbed Akechi’s hand, biting his lip and leaning on the leg that didn’t hurt as he was pulled to his feet. He winced as he tried to step on the other, moving to the stool Akechi just got off of. He rolled his pants up and pinched his nose, frowning at the bruise stretching across his shin. Akechi leaned over, his fingers tapping his chin.
“ You need to be more careful if you bruise up so easily. It’s too late to go to the school nurse, should we go to the doctor? “
“ No! Uh - “
He shook his head and rolled his pants back down.
“ That’s not necessary at all. I’ll be fine. This is fine. “
Akechi stared at him, just blinking once. Something was wrong with this kid, there had to be. He couldn’t even stand up, of course he needed to go to the doctor.
“ You sprained your ankle. You should at least come and get a brace for it - “
“ I said I’m fine, didn’t I? Just leave it at that. “
The artist had looked off to the side and Akechi noticed the hint of a blush around his cheeks despite his sharp tone.
“ . . . Is it a money problem? A brace isn’t expensive. You should be able to afford it easily going here - “
The boy glared at him again, folding his arms.
“ I’m not made of money like you must be. I’m here on a scholarship for my painting ability. The one you can’t understand and think it’s disgusting? For something this minor I’ll be fine, like I said. The money would be better spent on something else besides. “
Akechi leaned forward, kicking at the stool the other boy was sitting on.
“ Don’t be so rude, it was only an assumption. Like I said, it’s not expensive. I’ll just pay for it. “
Why he offered to do that, he couldn’t say. It’s not like he knew who this kid was. The expression he was given only solidified that it was a stupid thing to offer. But he wouldn’t take it back, he’d already said it.
“ Look, I don’t need your help. I said I’m fine - “
“ You can’t even stand up right now. So how do you plan on getting home? By walking? Stop being so defensive and accept the help. It’s not costing you anything. “
“ I will not accept anything I said I don’t need. I’ll figure something out and I don’t need your help to do it. If I cannot afford to go in the first place, what makes you think I can afford to pay you back? “
Akechi pressed his hands together, sighing.
“ You need something to pay me back with? Then make me a painting. Make me something that I can understand and I’ll consider us even. As a detective, I can hardly just leave you here injured like that anyway. Now, I’m going to help you walk to the doctor and you aren’t going to worry about anything past that. Understood? “
He looked so confused and was about to speak up again when he was pulled to his feet, crying out as he stood on his sprained ankle. He didn’t end up replying but was dragged off despite all of his complaints.
*•*•*
The doctor put Yusuke’s foot in a sling, giving him painkillers and a pair of crutches so he could move around without anyone else’s help. He was on his way home with Akechi, who was making sure he didn’t have another unfortunate accident and trip on the sidewalk. They made it to the shack Yusuke stayed in without anymore issues though Akechi’s face at the sight of the building made him wish they’d parted ways earlier.
“ Why are you staring like that? Did you expect me to live in some sort of mansion just because my sensei is a world famous artist? “
As if. Yusuke was lucky if he could even visit that place, let alone stay there. The lies came so easy now, it didn’t even taste the slightest bit bitter.
“ He’s a humble man, raising me the same way in hopes I don’t ever lose sight of where I started as an artist. “
Akechi tapped his fingers against his bike’s handlebars.
“ Humble . . . It certainly looks like you could say that. “
It reminded him of before he got emancipated. It reminded him of before the foster homes when it was just him and his mother. Paying nearly too much for where they were welcome thanks to the rumors surrounding her. Of her telling him she’d love to do better by him so he would forget where he came from.
“ . . . Yes. “
Akechi turned to him.
“ If you give me your number, I’ll take you to school on Monday. You can also talk to me and figure out what I’d like in a painting, right? The only requirement I think I have is that you take your time. You don’t seem like the type to half ass anything you’re asked to do, but I don’t want you to feel rushed. You can take more than three weeks if it’ll be better than what you had in the art room. “
Yusuke huffed and shuffled his bag around, pulling his phone out and opening a new contact, handing it over to Akechi.
“ Take my time? So you want me to figure out . . . What you like? Am I painting what you fear? What upsets you? What you find beautiful? You’re leaving this so open ended . . . “
Akechi chuckled, putting his contact info in the boy’s phone, adding some sparkly looking kaomoji and a heart after his own name.
“ There’s a reason for that. If you want to know what to paint for me, you’ll be like a friend to me and learn what would be the best thing to make. See, don’t think of it as being indebted to me because I helped you. You have a subject to figure out now and I’m giving you all the time you need to make something you’re proud of. It’s easier that way, yes? It . . . makes it easier to work if you approach it more like a challenge and less like a hassle, right? “
He smiled and chuckled at the shocked expression on the boy’s face.
“ Why would you . . . ? “
Akechi held a hand up.
“ Don’t ask. I was interested in what you said when you were explaining your painting. That’s it. I want to see something like that in action. Don’t worry about anything but that, alright? “
He saw an older man peeking through the front window and stepped over his bike, getting ready to pull off.
“ Oh, that’s right. Your name? I never caught it. “
“ . . . Kitagawa. Yusuke. “
“ Kitagawa, then. I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Don’t work too hard. “
He waved and pulled off just as Madarame came outside, motioning to Yusuke’s crutches.
“ What’s this here? Did you get yourself into an accident? Who was that boy just now? “
Yusuke bowed his head slightly.
“ Yes, I tripped at school. I should be perfectly fine in about three weeks. And he was just a senpai of mine. He was offering something to help inspire me, and to walk me to school on Monday. That’s all. “
The older man had raised brows that lowered into a gentle smile.
“ You tripped? I’ve told you that you need to be more careful. A cast like that? Someone could assume things, and you know I hate how people can pry. Come on inside now, there’s work for you to finish. “
That tone made Yusuke stare at the ground, following Madarame inside. He hadn’t tripped on purpose . . . He made sure not to sigh and risk a worse punishment than just skipping out on dinner. He knew he shouldn’t have went to the doctor like that.
“ . . . That boy paid for this. It didn’t cost me anything. And he’s not suspicious of you because of it. He saw me fall in the classroom. “
The older man tapped his cane sharply against the floor.
“ You expect me to believe something like that? Why would he pay for your bill? You accept handouts like that now, without a bit of shame? I thought I taught you better - “
“ He did! I’m not lying, Sensei! He just wants a painting. He said he’d pay for the doctor visit if I made him something he could understand - “
Yusuke barely flinched at the slap he received, just holding his cheek lightly.
“ So that’s what it is. You’re giving away a painting without my permission. There’s an art show right before the summer starts and you know I need your help right now. Some student you don’t even know is more important than me? “
He hated this patronizing tone. He knew better than to accept Akechi’s deal . . . But the thought of something new maybe inspiring him . . . Something someone else would know was his . . . A temptation like that was far too great, even if he would get punished, if he got to claim it as his, it could be worth it . . .
His hand was grabbed and he was yanked into the kitchen, a lighter being pulled from a drawer, a pack of cigarettes following it soon after.
“ . . . Don’t do that, please. I told him I didn’t need to go to the doctor but he dragged me there anyways, I didn’t offer to paint him anything, he suggested it and I already owed him so I couldn’t just refuse him - “
His rambling was cut off at the sound of the lighter flicking, one of the cigarettes being lit up.
“ I don’t need to hear your explanations, child. You’re giving away something that belongs to me. You didn’t even think to ask permission. “
Madarame had grabbed Yusuke’s right hand, turning it palm up and pressing the cigarette against the tips of all five of his fingers until the smell of burnt skin and nicotine was stuck in the air. Crying out wouldn’t do him any good and pulling his hand back just meant his arm would be burned instead. Yusuke wiped at his eyes with his other hand, looking off to the side as Madarame put the lighter and cigarettes back away.
“ Now, you have work to do still. I don’t want it to look sloppy either. I know you can use that other hand. But you’ve been working on that piece for over Aa week now. If you aren’t finished by tonight, I’ll lock your door until Monday morning. And if that isn’t motivating enough, I’ll lock the fridge and cabinets the entire next week. I do hope you’ll actually think more in the future when you go off and give away things that don’t belong to you. “
Madarame left out the front door, locking it from the outside so Yusuke couldn’t leave.
Yusuke still hadn’t screamed out, angry tears sliding down his cheeks as he went to wash his hand off in cold water. He shouldn’t have let Akechi take him to the doctor or offer a painting to repay him. He shouldn’t have but . . . He couldn’t shake the feeling that it might give him a few decent pieces. Madarame didn’t need to know they weren’t what he hoped to make. They’d make due for his upcoming gallery. He just . . . didn’t want to disappoint Akechi.
He didn’t understand what he saw in Yusuke’s piece in the art room but he’d looked like he wanted to. He looked like he wanted to know more about what Yusuke painted and a few burns . . . He’d had worse before. He wrapped bandages around each of his fingers and went up to his room to put the finishing touches on the piece there. Now that his school project was done, this was child’s play, the quality indistinguishable despite being finished with his off hand.
There was no point in starting another piece that night with his Sensei so upset with him. There was no point in going back downstairs since all the cabinets and the fridge were empty since no one had went food shopping yet. It was far too early to sleep though . . .
He looked at his phone, and Akechi’s contact lit up the screen when he unlocked it. He said to call him before Monday hadn’t he? . . . But surely he hadn’t meant later that same night. The most that would happen is his message being ignored until Akechi felt like replying, right? That wasn’t too bad . . .
Hello? This is the accident prone boy you insisted on walking home earlier . . . Why did you leave all these sparkles and hearts next to your name? It’s so gaudy.