the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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characters: you/imaushi wakasa, sano shinichiro...
a/n: angst lol. strangers to friends. themes of fwb but nothing explicit. switch of perspective. mcd obviously,,
as i said in this post the loose explanatio/beginning of an idea i had that i liked ALOT but couldnt write due to various reasons (esp lck of time) (open post for a lil further stuff for reader x wakasa ig,,,)
attending the same classes as shinichiro sano... you've heard of him alright but that's about it. a nice face to look at perhaps but a little odd. not someone you'd interact with occasionally, nor someone you'd remember in particular-
until you're paired with him for an assignment. it'll help build bonds between the lot of you! the teacher announces and everyone groans in unision
you shoot your new partner to be a look from where you stand and turn back to your notebook. the ring bells but by the time you can get up adn gather your stuff, sano is nowhere to be seen
it takes you hours to find him. and at possibily one of the worst times too.
you heard of the rumors about fights and deliquents but you didn't expect yourself to run into one. youre careful, you live a peaceful life, you avoid trouble, always keep a clean name and all-
the people around all battered and beaten up, covered in bruises, cuts and maybe blood, looking hungry, unsatisfied, maddened– and you're in the center of it all.
footsteps approach you, strong, stern, taking their time and all- you hold it in you to not turn for a look. wait for them to show their face at your feet, dont give them the satisfaction nor even the slightest sign of weakness.
a man with blond hair and a pretty face, long lashes and all, stands before you, looking almost a little amused. "what's a pretty little thing doin' here all by themselv-" "where's sano" you cut him midsentence.
the man looks baffled, a little offensed even. soon joined by a second figure a lot taller than him, they both look at you with hostility and a hint of curiosity.
who cares, you scoff internally, whatever intimidation they're going for, you won't fall for it.
the other man raises a brow at the way you've mentioned sano. shit, you do hope this was not the wrong place, or whatever fight went down there, they must've won... right?
"and who is asking?" the blond speaks up again, sounding a little annoyed now. "you know, we don't allow passes to every pretty thi-" "eeeew" you drag the word and scretch like a gum, making sure to put on a face. "none of your business actually." you add on, placing your hand against a hip.
"why, you-" before he can follow up with whatever's on his tongue, a jolly greeting from behind interrupts him, cutting through the air. you can notice how the idle folks around suddenly tense up, and for the two man before you, shoulders dropped, bodies relaxing...
soon sano emerges, with his hair put up and stylized, nothing like the man in your class, a deliquent out of a shitty teen's magazine you'd say so.
exhanging greets with the two men and doing a special handshake for only them to know, he looks in the mood, just his face a little bruised up and some blood on his clothes.
so that's probably why he skips school some days, you muse.
he notices you a little later.
"oh!" mouth formed into an 'o' shape, you can see his surprise written all over but he is quick to disperse all that." greeting you with your surname formally, he reaches out a hand, then brings it up upon noticing the splatters of blood and takes it back with a sheepish smile.
"what brings you there?" he asks, never losing a bit of his joy that contradicts the entire atmosphere.
"our assignment." you say curtly and receive another sound of surprise from him. he looks apolegitic at the very least, you think.
"well.. uh-" he scratches the back of his head, casting a glance around, you wait to see where the stammering will go.
"how would you wanna do it then?" he asks more for you than himself, to ease you probably, you can only assume.
another joins their little group, keeping silent and watching what's going on. you relly, really should get going, you decide after giving a quick look around. "we can go over the details at an appropirate time later."
"alright then!" he says, never missing a beat from his energy. it's unbelievable, you think. "should we... ah-" he pauses, "exchange numbers to keep in touch then?" he asks, and he means well, you can tell just from the way he looks and talks, but the rest? you're not exactly dying to say out loud your contact information. especially not with that blond anywhere within a 20 meter radius.
"here." you say, reaching out your hand to reveal your phone. "i'm not announcing my number for a bunch of weirdo, self proclaimed deliquents to hear."
your words take him by shock but he breaks into a snort right after. the two men exchange a glance and a thug at their lips as well. the blond however does not look once pleased with your words.
or you at all.
you begin to come and go to their place often, the assignment builds up slow but steady and the guys seem reasonable enough after actually sitting down and hearing each other out. shin looks happy with the development too, says you have brought a change but you'd disagree. he is the light and sun and the beating heart of this place and wherever he goes, they follow, absolute devotion and belief in him, as a person, for his mind and for his heart.
you can see why, you can feel it too. once you begin to spend your time with shinichiro sano, all the rumors and speculations you've heard up until then are gone. assignment be damned, you can tell when a friendship begins to bloom and with shin- it happens at such a pace, you find yourself a little afraid.
the assignment ends, presentation and all, with flying colors you pass and decide to celebrate it out, with the rest joining as well.
a karaoke bar is all fun and games until night rolls out. it has gotten late but shin offers to walk you home; keizo and takeumi dragging a very drunk and messed up wakasa. everyone bids one another goodbye- save for wakasa... and you almost believe youhave seen a hint of sadness in their eyes as they bump their fists against yours. if you didn't know any better, you'd ever go as far as to say they'll miss you around.
a day passes, another and another... much to their relief and encouragement, you stick around.
not within the vicinity on the days big fights go around but definitely dropping by to hang out, fool around and whatnot. it's now your laughter mixed with shin's that fills the air, and everyone seems joyful and happy most of the time- save for imaushi wakasa.
for reasons unbeknowst to you, he remains hostile, rude, and on and up about sending your way stupid lines like he did the first time. most of the time you ignore him, which annoys him further– the scene alone brings a smile to your lips, the smirk of a vixen, you even overhear him once, yelling to keizo about you are, sounding very much frustrated.
despite this is how the things begin and roll out, neither of you expect to grow close- closer than you'd have imagined.
yes, you and shin might be the sunshines, but you and wakasa? the two of you become inseperable. you even hear some people mumble how they fear the two of you looking down at them, gazes that burn holes through their skulls, see into their souls... the two of you could make a power couple- if you were one at all.
there is the heat, there is the tension. you comb through his hair with a gentle touch that has wakasa melting in your hold, yet the second someone dares to imply anything more, you shoot them a glance so heavy, it'd crash their lungs.
wakasa hopes, in the end, that perhaps there is an end to it that is happy, that is hopeful. he knows there is no making up for the way he treated you but you were not the kindest toward him either, so it makes you equals, no?
so he sings sappy songs at karaoke whilst tipsy, so any accusation he can brush off as the effect of the booze, but hopes you caught how he looked at you. so he touches you as soft as you do him, trying to mimic your kindness, an attempt at how love, in the physical, in action should be.
he doesn't know any better, why should he? why should anyone to begin with?
it scares him how natural it is for shin and you. some days he finds himself envying the two of you even, would things be any different were you to attend the same school as the two of you? oh what wouldn't he do to be graced with your smiles and giggles all day every day, having you look at him as you rest your cheek against your palm–
he aches for something a tad normal sometimes, at the very least with you. would the two of you ever cross paths were it not for shin? the thought scares him and he feels like an asshole for envying his friend like this, desperate for anything that would come from your hands.
but at the end of the day, it is himself you seek out. his arms that you allow around your person, his lips on you, devoring you, it's wakasa that consumes you wholly and the thought brings a wave of comfort at the very least.
then the entire world collapses down in the span of 24 hours.
shinichiro dies.
almost 24 hours have passed since his death and wakasa still cannot find it in him to return to reality yet.
then like an angel amidst the chaos, you reemerge from the fog, from smoke. it doesn't take a genius to figure out something is wrong.
"waka," you call out to him, sound laced with something he cannot quite pinpoint. shutting his eyes completely, he sits in the same spot for a moment, all the doubts, every single negative, twisted and fucked up thng he has been holding at bay til now so close to breaking out.
you speak, but he does not hear the words.
not pass the 'i am leaving'
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