Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?“
An art student complains about not feeling seen to a manga editor, who just so happens to be the first person she ever shared her work with years ago.
Word Count: 1313
A/N: I did indeed write this because I was feeling down, and had an Akaashi obsession resurgence at the same time. Even though this isn’t my usual sort of post, it’s art related so 🌸
“It’s like an itch I can’t scratch,” she groaned as she paced around her room. The coziness of all the posters, plants, and plushies would have relaxed her if their inherent tranquility didn’t just make her irrationality jealous.
Back when she’d first applied for a higher education art program, she’d originally assumed that it’d meant she would get to make art.
Not mostly write on the subject.
This specific assignment was to elaborate on the significance of one of her own previous works, but none of them felt good enough.
“I feel like I’m embarrassing myself,” she ran her hands over her face, “I thought it would be easy to talk about myself, and yet!”
But there she was, wallowing over a thesis paper. Though unlike usual, she wasn’t just whining to her diary.
“Be honest, did you just call me over here to complain?” Akaashi asked, though there was no real bite behind his words. He’d been planning on coming over anyway when she’d asked him to stop by.
It was rare he had a whole evening free just to visit.
All she could do then was frown at him. Whenever she noticed that expression on his face she could tell she was being ridiculous.
If only she was more impressive, or had more progress to show for everything, rather than just a dream. Then she would easily be able to go on, and on about herself. Then she wouldn't be acting a fool in front of her friend,
Laying down on her back, she hung her head upside down over the edge. Maybe some blood rushing to her brain would keep her from being so moody.
But Akaashi knew it was something other than her just being moody. He’d had more than enough experience dealing with sulking, and he could tell there was something under the surface this time.
Heading over to the bed, he crouched down, his nose only a few inches from hers. He almost went cross-eyed trying to keep a clear look of her face.
“Do you remember what I used to call you?”
It didn’t take her more than a few seconds to recall it, “Sunny.”
“And why did I do that?”
She knew he was coming to some sort of point, but she hadn’t quite caught up to it yet.
Sure enough, he could see those cogs turning in her mind.
“Because of the suncatcher I made in primary? It got voted the prettiest so it hung in the classroom all term.” That would make sense. It’d been the first acknowledgement of her artistic ability that she could remember. But would the answer be as obvious as that?
Akaashi remembered it too, though not for that reason. He was praying for a moment that she could look past the surface, beyond what the eye could see.
“Yes, but not because of that.”
“What other value did it have?” she asked with a brow raised.
It was a piece of plastic she’d smothered in cheaply made watercolors before she properly knew how to paint inside the — ow!
Her train of thought was cut off by a swift flick between the eyes.
Placing a hand over the spot, she was more shocked than hurt, “What was that for?”
“You’re being silly.”
“That I already know,” she faltered, not exactly wanting to admit it before going on, “but I still don’t know why you called me Sunny.”
Even though all this time she’d assumed she had.
Akaashi sighed, running a hand through his hair.
A while ago, a romance had come across his desk wherein the author went on, for a bit too long in his opinion, about how the eyes were the window to the soul.
Maybe that stretch of flowery dialogue would help him get through to her now.
Bringing a hand up to his face, he closed his eyes as he set his glasses up on his forehead.
With his specs out of the way, she thought he looked younger than usual. Not that he looked old by any standar, but it did give her a sort of nostalgia seeing the Akashi she’d first met. Only with longer curls now.
“I didn’t call you Sunny because of how many votes you got, I called you Sunny because the way light caught onto the catcher’s colors reminded me of you.”
For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the lavender candle she’d been burning to calm herself down.
Rolling over onto her stomach, she still wasn’t quite tracking. It wasn’t often that he used a metaphor, despite his profession, rather than outright saying what he meant.
Subsequently, Akaashi could sense her persistent confusion. While he would like to say it was because he knew her so well, it was written all over her face.
He wished he could just use some sort of telepathy rather than having to go on explaining himself.
“The colors remained just as vibrant as when you’d first painted them, no matter the circumstance, or who was watching.”
She tried thinking back to that day, and it took her a bit to get past the little blue ribbon she’d gotten, until she recalled the memory of first showing it to him.
He’d still been less than expressive back then, but his eyes had shone just as much as she’d hoped they would when he saw the project.
Before even sharing it with him, when she’d just finished it herself, a sense of satisfaction had filled her. Her hands had been covered in paint, and she’d accidentally drank some from her paint water, but she’d been proud regardless.
“You’re so worried about being seen, but you shine just as brightly even when no one is looking. You, and your work mean just as much even when no one is looking.”
“Don’t let others place value on your art,” his bluntness still reigned supreme in the end, “it’s stupid.”
It was sweet.
Sweet enough that she suddenly felt the need to say something to him that she hadn’t in ages.
When they were kids it had practically been every other sentence out of her mouth, and even though it’d been less common from him, he’d still said it more to her than anyone else.
With age, especially since they weren’t official, those three words had gone out of season.
But now —.
“Akaashi, I —.”
“Need to get back to writing,” he stood up, before going over to open her laptop, “you’ve put it off for too long as is.”
And there was the part of his straightforward nature that wasn’t always so sweet.
Though he wasn’t exactly wrong.
“Alright, might as well get it done sooner rather than later,” she got up, and headed over to her desk.
It was about time she fought off her procrastination fleas anyway.
Akaashi was still standing behind her when she sat down.
“Sunny.”
Even after all that time, her ears still twitched with recognition as she looked back over her shoulder.
Raising an eyebrow, she waited for him to go on. He’d just told her to focus, only to pull her attention away from the document again.
Slowly, a smile came to his lips as he nodded at her, “I know.”
What did he know?
After a moment of thought, it clicked.
Oh.
Oh!
It shouldn’t have surprised her that he would remember that little habit of theirs considering they had said it enough for it to be considered a habit.
Considering he had remembered her suncatcher.
Her face lit up, before it scrunched, her lips pursing as she turned back to the screen.
“You could have just said it back,” she mumbled.
“You didn’t even say it at all.”
“Because you interrupted me!”
And it went on like this for much longer than either of them would have ever cared to admit.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
