Chapter 1

It wasn't like Furihata actually wanted to die. No, it wasn't like that at all. It was just that having his days numbered—it was probably the only way he could escape the path his parents carved for him and insistently wanted him to take. Dying—it was the only way he could get away from that route (that compromised his personal dream) and follow the one that had appealed him from the very beginning (the one which included his passion—drawing). That was why, when their family doctor had informed him about the worsening of his (inborn) heart condition—which included him being left with only less than a year to live—he felt weirdly relieved, and unchained. After all, having your requests granted and your decisions supported—it was a perk of dying.

Finally, he could be free.

His parents wanted Furihata to become a doctor to continue his family's legacy (they insisted for him to become one, never asking what he wanted to become), but what Furihata wanted for himself was to become an artist. He owed a lot to art (since he wasn't exactly a very social type of person, he would always be alone; if it wasn't for his ability to draw, he would have been lonely beyond help), and so he thought he wanted to give back to the thing that had given him so much support—even more than his parents or any friend ever had.

Don't get him wrong though. He wasn't trying to play martyr or anything. Aside from his want to repay art for the company it had given him, there was also his fascination, burning passion and natural talent in making art. It not only caught his interest. He didn't just want to create art. There was also the feeling it gave him—drawing was the only thing he felt good at. It was the only thing he would feel competent whenever he's doing it. Art—drawing made him feel as if he lived for a reason.

And so there he was now, in front of the gates of the art school he had always wanted to be in.

After hearing the tragic news from his doctor, confronting his parents about his condition and what he wanted to do about it and taking a talent test to get admitted in his dream (art) university, finally, there he was now, up close and inside the campus he thought he'd never be able to set foot in.

"I…I'm r-really here, a-aren't I?"

On the last days of his life, he was about to cease from just existing and was about to start living.

The irony—but the beauty in that irony.

In one of the rooms located in one of the buildings in the university, sitting in front of a blank canvas was a redhead man with a pair of mismatched eyes of gold and red. He had a pale, photoshopped-like flawless and smooth skin, pale-looking pink lips, a well-proportioned body and calloused (but slender) hands. He wasn't the tallest man out there, but he was definitely an eye-candy (he had an intimidating aura to him though).

As of the moment, with a frown carved on his elegant features and lips pressed together, he narrowed his eyes towards the blank canvas before him.

What to paint, what to paint?

Getting up from his small chair, he walked towards his window to get a breath of fresh air only to spot a brunette walking along the trees of cherry blossoms from a (not too far away) distance. He was wearing a blissful type of expression, but—what's this?—there was a hint of loneliness underneath his eyes.

He was perfect—the perfect model that was.

Opening his eyes by a fraction, he intently (and intensely) stared at the walking brunette. In his mind, he sketched him in high definition, taking note of even the tiniest details.

The look in this boy's eyes, he mused as he sketched in his mind, is like summer.

It's refreshing, but evokes nostalgic memories of the past.

Definitely, it was a rare sight, and he hoped to be able to keep those feelings alive in his canvas—to freeze the look of summer.

A/N: I'm just really enchanted by the idea of artist!Akashi and artist!Furihata. Please don't mind me.