Untitled
Title: Untitled
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: G
Characters: Ohno Satoshi, Ninomiya Kazunari
Author: stormy_words/saturn_necklace
AN: Thank you rojiura_gypsy for beta reading for me, and for spending about half an hour trying to decide on a title with me, and eventually deciding to just call it untitled.
Summary: AU. Ohno is a painter. Nino is a random passerby. Ohno paints. Nino watches.
The brush moved across the canvas in one fast stroke leaving behind a trail of vivid blue, the colour enhanced by the stark white that surrounded it. The artist's eyes surveyed the scene in front of him; a stream flowed through the park, the area empty save for a family of three eating a picnic off to the right and the occasional dog walker. A sturdy wooden bridge made a path across the water where a few large trees stood, casting tall shadows across the grass. The artist stood under a tall oak tree, shaded from the sun by leafy branches as he worked.
A small amount of bright yellow was added to the blue on his palette, and the two colours were mixed carefully, more paint being added gradually to create an emerald green. The new colour was added to the canvas in small strokes as the artist glanced between his work and the scene that he painted.
It was a quiet day; the only sounds to be heard were the gentle rippling of the stream, cheerful conversation and laughter from the family, and the quiet murmur of distant traffic. The peaceful atmosphere was ideal for the artist as he let himself be carried away by his painting, adding new colours to the canvas in front of him as he recreated the scene as he saw it - all colours and scents and feelings.
Time always seemed to pass more quickly while he painted. To him, it seemed as though time had frozen, and when he finished his work for the day, it always came as a slight surprise when he discovered that many hours had passed since he’d begun.
By the time he began to add a leafy green to the canvas the family were long gone, trees being formed with each deft movement of a skilful hand. It was at this point that footsteps approached, stopping behind the artist. He knew that someone was there, but he didn’t turn around, instead continuing to paint as before. The spectator watched over the artist’s right shoulder, taking in every movement that was made, every addition to the painting and not saying a word.
The brush danced over the canvas, leaving trails of colour behind it until the light changed too much for the painting to be continued. The artist’s hand stilled and he looked at the canvas for a few moments with a small smile, before placing the brush in a glass of water, now murky with the different colours of paint from each previous wash.
The spectator took a step forward to stand directly next to the artist, allowing him a closer look at the painting. The artist looked across at the other for the first time; he looked as though he was no older than seventeen (although the artist sensed that it would probably be best not to mention that) and his hair was quite long - a nice brown colour that the artist thought he might like to add to the painting - maybe for the bridge. The stranger turned his head to return the gaze and the artist smiled as he noticed that the other’s eyes were a pretty colour too.
“You’re talented.” The person murmured, directing an appreciative glance back at the picture. “It’s like you can feel the atmosphere.”
The artist’s head tilted a little as he continued to study the other, “You know about art?”
This question drew a short laugh from the other and the artist thought that he liked the sound. The answer was enhanced by a small shake of the person’s head.
“No, nothing. But I think that anyone would be able to tell that this is good.”
The artist just nodded his understanding before turning away to pack up his equipment. The other man continued to look at the painting.
“What’s your name?”
That artist looked up as he heard the question, his eyes meeting the other man’s. “Ohno,” was his reply. “Ohno Satoshi.”
The man nodded, voicing the name once, as if to see how it felt on his tongue.
“I’m Ninomiya Kazunari.” He added, the phrase sounding as though it was an afterthought.
Ohno scrunched his nose up a little. “That’s long.” He remarked.
Ninomiya laughed again, slightly intrigued by the artist. Ohno decided that he definitely liked the sound. “Most people just call me Nino.”
Ohno nodded. “I’ll call you Nino then.”
Ohno removed the canvas from where it sat and handed it to Nino, not bothering to tell the other to hold it, instead assuming that the other would understand the meaning of his action. Nino took the artwork and examined the picture again. “You didn’t sign it.”
“I didn’t finish it.” Ohno folded his easel, packing it away before swinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I’ll be here again tomorrow.”
Nino smirked. “So will I.”
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: G
Characters: Ohno Satoshi, Ninomiya Kazunari
Author: stormy_words/saturn_necklace
AN: Thank you rojiura_gypsy for beta reading for me, and for spending about half an hour trying to decide on a title with me, and eventually deciding to just call it untitled.
Summary: AU. Ohno is a painter. Nino is a random passerby. Ohno paints. Nino watches.
The brush moved across the canvas in one fast stroke leaving behind a trail of vivid blue, the colour enhanced by the stark white that surrounded it. The artist's eyes surveyed the scene in front of him; a stream flowed through the park, the area empty save for a family of three eating a picnic off to the right and the occasional dog walker. A sturdy wooden bridge made a path across the water where a few large trees stood, casting tall shadows across the grass. The artist stood under a tall oak tree, shaded from the sun by leafy branches as he worked.
A small amount of bright yellow was added to the blue on his palette, and the two colours were mixed carefully, more paint being added gradually to create an emerald green. The new colour was added to the canvas in small strokes as the artist glanced between his work and the scene that he painted.
It was a quiet day; the only sounds to be heard were the gentle rippling of the stream, cheerful conversation and laughter from the family, and the quiet murmur of distant traffic. The peaceful atmosphere was ideal for the artist as he let himself be carried away by his painting, adding new colours to the canvas in front of him as he recreated the scene as he saw it - all colours and scents and feelings.
Time always seemed to pass more quickly while he painted. To him, it seemed as though time had frozen, and when he finished his work for the day, it always came as a slight surprise when he discovered that many hours had passed since he’d begun.
By the time he began to add a leafy green to the canvas the family were long gone, trees being formed with each deft movement of a skilful hand. It was at this point that footsteps approached, stopping behind the artist. He knew that someone was there, but he didn’t turn around, instead continuing to paint as before. The spectator watched over the artist’s right shoulder, taking in every movement that was made, every addition to the painting and not saying a word.
The brush danced over the canvas, leaving trails of colour behind it until the light changed too much for the painting to be continued. The artist’s hand stilled and he looked at the canvas for a few moments with a small smile, before placing the brush in a glass of water, now murky with the different colours of paint from each previous wash.
The spectator took a step forward to stand directly next to the artist, allowing him a closer look at the painting. The artist looked across at the other for the first time; he looked as though he was no older than seventeen (although the artist sensed that it would probably be best not to mention that) and his hair was quite long - a nice brown colour that the artist thought he might like to add to the painting - maybe for the bridge. The stranger turned his head to return the gaze and the artist smiled as he noticed that the other’s eyes were a pretty colour too.
“You’re talented.” The person murmured, directing an appreciative glance back at the picture. “It’s like you can feel the atmosphere.”
The artist’s head tilted a little as he continued to study the other, “You know about art?”
This question drew a short laugh from the other and the artist thought that he liked the sound. The answer was enhanced by a small shake of the person’s head.
“No, nothing. But I think that anyone would be able to tell that this is good.”
The artist just nodded his understanding before turning away to pack up his equipment. The other man continued to look at the painting.
“What’s your name?”
That artist looked up as he heard the question, his eyes meeting the other man’s. “Ohno,” was his reply. “Ohno Satoshi.”
The man nodded, voicing the name once, as if to see how it felt on his tongue.
“I’m Ninomiya Kazunari.” He added, the phrase sounding as though it was an afterthought.
Ohno scrunched his nose up a little. “That’s long.” He remarked.
Ninomiya laughed again, slightly intrigued by the artist. Ohno decided that he definitely liked the sound. “Most people just call me Nino.”
Ohno nodded. “I’ll call you Nino then.”
Ohno removed the canvas from where it sat and handed it to Nino, not bothering to tell the other to hold it, instead assuming that the other would understand the meaning of his action. Nino took the artwork and examined the picture again. “You didn’t sign it.”
“I didn’t finish it.” Ohno folded his easel, packing it away before swinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I’ll be here again tomorrow.”
Nino smirked. “So will I.”