#was testing out the brushes and fell in love with this textured one it's grainy and nice!!!

[oreegaanoo]

Made this in March 2024 but didn't like it. I like the cropped version more so here you go!

[illuminateandrelate]

Art - Chapter 1 (Mutsurie)

It was his mother who had bought him his first set of paints. His mother who had placed the brushes into his chubby waiting hands with the words Now you can make whatever you want.

Whatever I want?

Whatever, whenever, however.

How will I know what I want to paint?

You’ll know.

He knew.

The post-canon painting of Mutsuki Tooru we all needed

It was his mother who had bought him his first set of paints. His mother who had placed the brushes into his chubby waiting hands with the words Now you can make whatever you want .

Whatever I want?

Whatever, whenever, however.

How will I know what I want to paint?

You’ll know.

He knew.

He knew just as thoroughly as he loved, as he breathed, he knew just as much as he craved.

He knew.

A part of him was embarrassed at the behavior, somewhat laughing at the paintings decked all over the floor and the easel. The layers of acrylic and oils in soft and harsh layers against the soft texture of the pale canvas, and they were never perfect, something always missing. He supposed maybe it was because Mutsuki was always missing. Far away and gone, the only traces left the ones of green and white that Urie drew.

The room was full of him, all painted over with base white because he quickly became dissatisfied but whenever he faltered his fingers sketched out the soft green eyes. His mind fell to the gentle floor of the dreadful mist and soupy anguish of it all, basking, wallowing. He could never quite pull himself from it once he'd started.

Sometimes the paintings looked too real, too much, too upsetting that they were in fact just ugly layers of liquid color. He couldn't make him materialize and he couldn't bring him forth. So why for the love of god was he still painting him? He painted the smile from ages ago, soft and curled at the edges, the eyes crinkling up ever so slight. He'd painted the soft slope of the almost too delicate nose, jagged from past breaks. He'd painted the bronze and careful skin.

He'd painted the blood and the gore of it all, the triumph and the beauty. He'd painted Mutsuki Tooru, and painted, and painted and-

It was all for nothing, he couldn't figure out why he was still here in the process and he should throw them away yes he should- It was creepy, wasn't it? To be so yearning and desperate when he sat here pathetic and boiling in his skin. It was wrong. And and-

Mutsuki was coming to visit soon, so he should really put them at least away. Away so he didn't scare the other boy, so he could see his face, and read it at last and for the love of god just be near him.

Urie frowned at his handiwork, still frustrated with some forgotten feature on the canvas. Something that didn't stand out right, stood out wrong just- just. It  was no use. Standing here wouldn't solve it. He turned and sighed, picking up a white sheet and throwing it over the current work in progress, he should sleep.

Sleep. What a joke.

When in recent times had he ever truly slept? The definition had changed, and now sleep meant lying awake and staring at the wall, at wishing things had turned out differently, at running through scenarios of things he could’ve said to make him stay.

Maybe it was unhealthy to think like this, no, it was unhealthy. He should move on, and get better, and stronger?

He blinked at the blank wall, having never been one for decorating like Saiko or Higemaru. For the longest time he had liked it like that, the careful cream of the lacquered thing clean and empty of chaos. Peaceful and simple, just as he’d liked. Now though, they just felt barren- and maybe a bit lonely too.

He turned around to the other side, staring at the thin line of yellow light that stretched and elongated itself from the hallway. If he focused he could hear the mumble of Saiko from a room further down the narrow walkway, a few random pings , some more grumbling and words ‘ stupid kids ’. He blinked, shut it out, focusing back on the quiet hum of his computer in his own room. Somehow, listening to the life outside the isolated prison just made him feel more lonesome than the deafening silence.

He closed his eyes, if he couldn’t sleep he might as well pretend he was going to, staying awake with something stimulating wouldn’t help his case much either. In the past perhaps he would’ve gone to the gym, but just like everything else he used to do the idea only tasted dry. He sighed, letting his brain drift with the currents of nighttime wonderings it was going to be a while .

Morning as always came slow, light creeping in from a dark navy swoop to a golden filter through the officelike blinds of his room through a series of hours, projecting horizontal stripes across his duvet and the grainy rug. Urie sat upright slowly, having been in an odd sort of half sleep for a majority of the night, awake, out, and through again like a needle sewing through the draping and heavy fabric of unconsciousness. He pulled the blankets to the side, and stepped off, beginning to make his bed. It helped somewhat with the clutter of thoughts to at least have one thing organised.

He was tucking the last corner of duvet beneath the mattress when the heard the door creak open at the bottom of the stairs and a cacophony of voices explode in excitement. Urie froze, his hand still stuck beneath the layers of blankets. He felt his chest, devoid of air and struggling for intake burn, begging him to just please , let him breathe. Easier said than done.

Mutsuki was early.

Urie wasn't sure why, he usually came later or on time but this time he was early. Five, he was supposed to come at five PM. If he had known the other boy was to come earlier he would've gotten up earlier, prepared rather than have himself caught off guard, rather than have a terrible case of bedhead and these disheveled insomniac eyes, red with lack of sleep.

He pulled out his hand from beneath the mattress smoothing down the duvet with the other before running it shaky and swift through his hair. He ought to take a shower, he couldn't go downstairs like this, he could feel the accumulating grease in his roots.

He turned walking into the bathroom attached to his room and turning on the tap to a flaming heat, stepping in once it got to an acceptable temperature, ready to scrub every bit of sweat and oil free.

  Mutsuki-

 He was early, he knew that, he couldn't have warned them either, it had been a split second decision. He had been in town and saw that despite what he’d known beforehand there was a morning train he could catch before the afternoon one, they had simply forgotten to put it on the website. He had gone to the house to grab his luggage and head over quickly to the train station, barely making it as it was with the train leaving mere minutes after he'd boarded.

Despite the grappling tension in his throat the reaction as he’d knocked and been let in was no different from the other times he’d visited. Saiko getting up from her bowl of "oatmeal" and shooting into his arms knocking him off kilter as he swung and stumbled backward.

He smiled, looking down at her for a moment before he turned up to greet the others still eating. He had never really grown very close to the other Qs, more a formal sort of friendship between superior officer and student but looking around it felt like the thawing of hands in front of a fire. Warming the ever settling chill that had since settled in his chest and throat. Looking around he noticed something, or someone missing.

"Where’s Urie?" he asked, stepping away from the Saiko who had since buried her head in his chest.

"Oh? Urie likes his beauty sleep, I can hear him in the shower now." She shook her head. "You eat breakfast yet, Mucchan? I can't imagine you have with that early of a train catch."

He laughed, "I haven't actually. First though," he stepped around walking over to the table. "I brought you guys some things." He dropped a canvas bag on the dark chestnut.

"Oooh yes," Higemaru said, fingers reaching quickly towards the bag before being slapped back away by Hsiao.

"Greedy bastard,” she scolded, “Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" she glared at him.

Mutsuki laughed quietly, an odd sort of nostalgia washing over him as he remembered Sasaki doing something of the sort once. A similar scene being  reenacted with Saiko and Urie when he'd visited Yuriko's bakery early in the morning to get pastries. He felt a sort of drop in his chest as it washed over him, the tide of memories and their feelings pulling him into the ocean of once upon a time.

He pulled himself back from the cold water, picking up the bag and pulling out the wrapped gifts. Handing them off to each one of them. Saiko and Higemaru quickly tearing into them as the others picked them up thanking him quietly.

"I'll be back down in a second," he said turning a foot towards the stairway. "I can hear the shower running from here, I'll drop this on his bed."

"Okay, Mucchan!" Saiko's cheery voice echoed as he made his way, "I'll pull out some of the synthetic stuff they're having us testing. Its not half bad!"

"You've been eating that?" Hsiao , alarmed. "It's not for us! It's only for-"

"Someone had to try it for his royal highness in the shower."

He chuckled at the loud banter as it faded, the nerves creeping back into his body as he approached the brass knob. He recalled the last time he’d been in here, Urie had asked him to stay at the chateau, sad and almost pleading when he’d refused. He’d said it was because he needed new habits, a fresh breath, somewhere else. He wondered how true that was now .

He opened the door, the room’s aura as quiet and clean as always. The bed was made- not unusual for Urie and the quiet sound of the shower filtered through the thin door. Mutsuki crept forward, trying to be careful as not to disturb or freak him out and set the wrapped gift on the clean linen. He looked around, several canvases layered against the sides of the walls, many painted white but others with traces of landscapes or other half-finished pictures Mutsuki couldn’t quite make out. His gaze settled on the easel on the opposite side of the room, the current painting covered with a white sheet, and Mutsuki chewed his lower lip.

He shouldn’t peek .

It was covered, it was covered for a reason, he knew that much, Urie never did anything without thinking first. Always analyzing, calculating. If he had masked something as private it was obvious, and exploiting it to other eyes well, that was a death sentence.

He stepped forward, fingers itching to pull back the sheet, curiosity running rampant in his brain like a dog unleashed. Urie would get out soon, he couldn’t get a chance for the rest of the week after this. It was now or never. He closed the rest of the distance, reaching forward to pull up the sheet just enough so he could see it.

He almost wished he hadn’t.

THANK YOU FOR READING!!

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Chapter 2 is here

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