#artcentric

—- yakumo drives an odd business negotiation. tsukishima blinks once, twice, & then shakes his head to bring himself back to focus. seeing his own visage sketched out with charcoal lines was not . . . how he expected to start his shift. he wonders absently if it’s too early to shuffle off to the breakroom to get a cup of coffee —— he decides it is. & honestly ? he’s not terribly tired yet. this is hardly the worst yakumo could do.

tsukishima doesn’t know a whole lot about the art industry; he prefers historical artifacts & older art pieces. but when he does overhear touring artists speak logistics . . . it doesn’t usually sound like this. even if yakumo is making a joke.

after all, ¥23,000 is pretty steep for a sketch. especially if the purchase doesn’t even guarantee ownership . . . just the right to hang it on his fridge. as if tsukishima wants to stare at his own face every time he goes for a glass of milk.

tsukishima snorts & plays along (in his own fashion). he tilts his head to study the image a little closer. ‘ . . . the nose is off, ‘ he lies.

' Stuffed with chum... flung out airplane.... ' Issei repeats as he takes notes of the other's final dying wishes, writing them down on one of the leftover napkins he'd pulled from the bottom of the paper bag. It was stained with some of the grease from the burger he'd finished eating only moments ago. Not the ideal item to take notes on, but it's not like he carried a notepad with him. Heck, he's surprised he even had a pen lying around.

wearing glasses means that at least once someone has asked you 1 ) how many fingers they’re holding up 2 ) if you can still see them 3 ) are you like… legally blind?

but before this moment, no one has asked him the grossest thing he’s ever had to clean off his glasses. tsukishima doesn’t bother hiding the spasm of bewilderment that flickers across his features before he recomposes himself & stands a little taller. art classes & students have come to the museum before, hoping to find inspiration in history — but never before have they actively tried to engage him in conversation. maybe art students are just built differently, he excuses the other — the thought is a little more gracious than tsukishima would normally allow, but . . . he’s at work. & sheer professionalism makes him a little more tolerant.

but only a little. ‘ easy, ‘ tsukishima murmurs. politely, he inclines his head towards the other. ‘ unfortunately, the sight of some of our more obnoxious visitors is a little difficult to wipe off. ‘ high & mightly, he speaks to heckle. he can’t be entirely sure whether the other is being perverse or not, so . . . tsukishima doesn’t see the problem.

‘ besides that . . . i’m happy to tell you about the exhibition if you have any further questions.’

—— as far as shirabu is concerned, they met by accident. this much is a fact. their mail had gotten mixed up. he & yakumo had met to rectify the mistake. easy enough. the accident, however, was their continuing communciation. of course, shirabu is prone to internal bouts of bitter exaggeration ( as a form of venting, if you will) — & he knows it. he really does, & he’s dignified enough to hold himself accountable.

but . . . the more yakumo talks, the less sure shirabu is that he is exaggerating. seemingly, yakumo has set himself upon making himself loud & unavoidable. while shirabu prides himself on having been able to tolerate that sort personality before — yakumo tries to distinguish himself.

likely, shirabu, yakumo would like to see him snap — or would just like an excuse to laugh. neither of these options much appeal to shirabu, frankly.

so, as they stand in the mailroom together, shirabu rifles once through his mail ( a 50/50 mixture of bills & advertisements ) & then uses them as a fly swatter against the other. thwack.

it’s a quick motion — & immediately, shirabu collects himself to drift towards the exit. ‘ ah. i’m all right, ‘ he offers absently / flatly. ‘ people use brutal rejections as good stories somehow, fanfare — a laugh. i’m sure you can relate? thank you, though. ‘

the door pushes open. though weary, shirabu spares the time to smirk — in the obvious, at least partially amused way.

‘ I imagine it’s worth a pretty penny. ’ Nothing he could afford, probably. 

"I bet you think this is all leading up to something. Like I'm about to tell ya I'm dying. On your birthday? Please." Yakumo mused "obviously I'm about to ask for your hand in marriage." This was a joke, but he also wouldn't mind kissing you either.

          ❛   Waaaah — !   Marriage ? !   Shut y’er trap, asshole !   Why would ya even decide t'a ruin a perfect evenin’ such as today’s with somethin' like that ? !   ❜     the former captain bellows in return ;   & even if he's slightly taken aback by the unexpected shift that's clear in Yakumo's humorous remarks.     ❛   No one’s dyin’ tonight ...   nor gettin’ married !   ❜      (   & whether he's simply being his usual, jovial self or he's a tad inebriated by the alcoholic mixtures sitting at the top of the table ...   Kuroo can't tell !   )     nevertheless :   he's back to laughing as soon as he's terminated questioning his companion’s sanity &, playfully, raises his newly - filled cup into the air between them with a low - voiced   ' cheers '   ...   only to chug down another shot of liquor right after.

          topics such as marriage & family have never really been part of the predicaments that crossed Kuroo's mind. quite frankly :   he has always been far more interested in one   — keeping his studies under check & being a straight A's student, & in two   — playing to his core's hunger & holding his team connected at all times. take nekoma to nationals. keep alive the long - time promise he's made to coach nekomata, to the one that later conducted him to the wondrous world of volleyball, & make the dumpster battle real. so ...   at the end of the day ...   even if he wanted to     (   & rest assured ...   he has never wanted to   )     bring himself to worry in the slightest —   he views dating as something almost ephemeral. anything more than that ... ?   utter bullshit.

          when Kuroo properly empties his drink, he makes sure to place it atop the table with a thud.     ❛   yeeeesh ...   I got no idea where ya found this sake, but it ain't good.   ❜     the ravenette comments with a light - hearted tone to his voice, slender fingers moving to seize a steady hold of the bottle so he can gather more information about the drink. he was taunting when he said the alcohol wasn't satisfying enough —   though, whatever mockery he intended to hold against the brunette ...   dies at his tongue when he notices the name imprinted on the outter side of the bottle.     ' junmai daiginjo '.     gasp !

          ❛   Oi, Yakumo ...   ya really outdid y'erself this time, didn't ya ?   hmmm ... this drink's pretty pricey ... —   are ya sure ya don't want me t'a pay   AT LEAST   half of it ?   ❜