Disclaimer: I don't own anything…cept the fic.
Fic Warning(s): YAOI…AU, Mild Language, Mild Violence, Fluff/Lime/Lemon, One-Shot/First-Time/Multi-Chapter
Pairing(s): Naruto X Neiji
Others pairings mentioned
Legend:
Person's name: indicates whose POV it's in
Time: indicates the time/whereabouts
: indicates that time has gone by
-Word-: indicates a personal definition depending on the POV
'Purple Cocaine Prison' Naruto: My Definition of a Five Day WeekNaruto
-Monday/Getsuyobi-: The single worst day of any week…I'm never on time for school on Monday…I always forget my homework and I always see Sasuke first thing in the morning on Mondays…not to mention the fact that I was born on a Monday. If that's not bad luck, I don't know what is.
Monday/Math class
His eyes were blue…sometimes a light silvery gray but they are always translucent and clear. He is always being serious, playing sports his hardest and being the first to hand in assignments. If I hadn't known him since we were young, I would've thought like the majority of the high school populace that he was inhuman or at least not really a teenager. I know for a fact that it is simply the way he is. He works solely to achieve perfection, or at least something close to it. He doesn't sit around and make friends, he doesn't date…he doesn't even seem to be bothered to pay attention to trends or styles. I don't either, but that's because I don't want to fit in.
He could have cared less.
He took up all the hardest courses and put forth the most effort in everything. He rarely spoke about anything that wasn't school related and was probably the most self-sufficient person I had ever met. Normal people require emotional support and stuff…not him.
I settle back into my desk, watching him but not being obvious about it. I'm not sure if he knows, but sometimes he'll look up at me and give me this look. I've never been able to tell if he's annoyed or just trying to tell me he knows exactly what I'm doing. He hasn't said anything directly to me about stopping, so I never did.
I angle the sketchbook across my lap and press my pencil to the paper. My hand moves in arcs and practiced motions, tracing the line of his jaw and the very slight arch of his nose, the full curve of his cheek and the tilt of his eyes. The long hair that reaches halfway down his back is hardest. I pause and glance at him inconspicuously.
Presently, he's bent over his notebook and taking notes like he's supposed to…unlike me. The long hair is tied back in a loose braid, sliding over his shoulder and the end trailing across the desk in front of him as he leans forward to flip to the next page in the math textbook. I take a second to vaguely sketch the contour of the braid, adding a few wisps of loose hair.
Beauty isn't beauty without slight imperfection. He was beautiful, in a way, but too immaculate. For one reason or another, I had a habit of drawing things that weren't really there. A wrinkle in the shirt here, a hole in the jeans there. It didn't take much, but it was enough. If I went as far as to dress him up in my bright orange sweater, black jeans and black and white sneakers, he'd look unnatural, although still beautiful. Anyway, I draw the line at messing with my portraits, in his case, at a wrinkle or two and a few wisps of not-actually-loose hair.
The teacher glances up from the front of the room and looks right at me. I grin sheepishly and duck my head down, pretending to take notes and shading in Neiji's hair instead.
Around me, other students are busily working on math problems assigned for homework. I don't bother since I have work today and it's not like it'll get done anyway…Instead, I sketch. Sketching is my safe-heaven, my way of escaping the world. In my sketches, people don't treat me the way they do…I'm not adopted because my parents didn't have to give me up because they were too young to care for me properly…in my sketches, the world is actually a nice place.
I finish the picture by signing the corner of the page in my messy artist's scrawl and add the date as an afterthought. Proudly, I prop it up in front of myself and take a good look. I've been drawing Neiji for a long time, probably even as far back as since before we first met in elementary school and I was still learning to draw, and I've practically memorized the way he looks. This portrait is slightly better then the last one I can remember drawing although the differences are so minor that I can't be bothered to call in an improvement.
I tuck away all my stuff and pull my oval, one-strap backpack on and stand quietly. The clock at the front of the room ticks quietly and no one looks up as I very discreetly walk by. By the time the bell actually rings, I'm slipping out the classroom door and disappearing into the crowded hallway.
-Tuesday/Kay obi-: Possibly one of the only good things about a week. By Tuesday, I've usually sorted my crap out…it still sucks though; I have to pay rent on Tuesdays…
Tuesday/Spanish Class
Someone up there has a sick, twisted and sadistic sense of humor. Second semester is supposed to be an opportunity for students to start again…in different subjects…and NOT get placed in the same class as their mortal enemies. That's definitely mistake number one…mistake number two is to put said evil person at the same table as you…and no, it does get worse. Mistake number three is to place you and said evil person in the back of the class where the teacher can't actually stop your mortal enemy from murdering you.
Would Sasuke want to sit back there with me, even if it meant being away from his fan club, having to do projects with me and generally being contaminated by my presence? Of course he would, if the way he half smiled at me, eyes promising cruelty, as the teacher assigned our seats was any indication at all.
I have only one thing to say: Crap, why me?
So here I am, hoping against hope that Sasuke will at least lay off till lunchtime, while nervously sketching on the corner of the desk I share with the prince of darkness himself. The teacher starts to take attendance in this slow, I'm-still-not-awake-yet morning voice.
I decide that if I'm going to be trapped here until I can figure out a way out of this mess, I better get my bearings; you know, find out what's what.
First thing I notice: in the seat right in front of us are Sasuke's two biggest fans and my biggest nightmares.
Sakura and Ino have had crushes on the demon sitting next to me since kindergarten. Disturbing? Yes. That aside, they are considered to be the two prettiest girls in school. Which is cool to know if you like girls that have been known to demonstrate extremely violent tendencies and are both verbally abusive. They also hate each other's guts. In public, they have this whole we've-been-best-friends-forever vibe. In Sasuke's presence they might has well have been complete strangers…
In front of those two are Kiba and Neiji's cousin Hinata. Kiba's a massive pain in the ass since I can easily group him into the people-out-for-my-blood category right alongside Sasuke while Hinata falls into neither of the other two other categories of people I have: Spasmodic weirdoes or Don't-even-know-I-exist-people.
She's nice to me, I suppose, but she's too nice. Kind of like the way Neiji is too perfect. That family is like…well, anyway, it's creepy. My eyes travel to the table next to Kiba and Hinata's and I try to see who was sitting next to Rock Lee.
My mental tally of the people in the class is cut short when Sasuke makes his first insult of the day, "Checking out Lee, Uzumaki? That's sick" he comments innocently.
I sit back heavily but steel myself. I will not be provoked. People are not aware of my sexual preferences and I'm not going to hand it to them on a silver platter by getting all defensive; I'm not stupid. They have enough to tease me about when they feel like it; I'm not willing to add the fact that I like guys and girls to that list. Instead, I shrug and raise an eyebrow at him disinterestedly.
Black eyes stare back, equally passive. Sasuke crosses his arms over his chest and half smirks. Sasuke, if I'm totally honest with myself, is actually probably right up there next to Neiji on my list of drop-dead-see-but-can't-touch-cool-as-ice-gorgeous-guys. But then of course, that's only when I'm being honest with myself.
Sasuke, as usual, is dressed all in black and wears blood-red Zen beads around his left wrist. Already starkly pale skin looks even more luminescent and soft because of the contrast between the black clothing and said pale skin. Black hair falls loosely into his face.
Yeah, he's hot. So sue me. He's still an asshole though…
Anyway, the Lee comment gets the girls attention and Sakura whips around to give me her best grossed out look, "What! You're joking, right? I thought even you'd have better taste Naruto"
It's said mockingly and only to try and get a rise out me and hell, it's not even ten o'clock yet! Like I said though, they won't get a rise out of me…even if it kills me.
Smoothing all expression from my face, I flip her the finger, "I do have better taste, and that's why you're not even on my list of most disliked people. Off the radar and out of sight…bitch"
The last part is mumbled but I guess she heard cause her face gets all red and it looks like I've just dug my grave.
My ever-helpful mental sarcasm kicks in: 'Here it comes! Hold onto someone you love!'
Shockingly, Sasuke intervenes. Not verbally, mind you, but he does scowl in a sorta irritated way. Does the trick, like magic practically, since Sakura just mumbles a vague apology to him and turns back to face front like a good soldier. Ino takes the opportunity to tease the crap out of her while I give Sasuke my best what-the-hell-are-you-up-to-and-don't-think-that-I'm-not-onto-you look.
He just stares coolly back.
Class resumes after the teacher finally manages to dig herself out of under all her papers littering her desk and Sasuke goes back to ignoring me, which would be great if I could draw. Unfortunately or fortunately, depends, Sasuke doesn't know that I draw. God knows what he'd do if he knew.
I repress a shudder and pretend to pay attention to the lesson. This semester is going to be as crappy as the first one, I can already tell.
-Wednesday/Suiyobi-: The day on which I usually pray. For anyone whose wondering, it's usually because I want to thank God for getting me this far in the week…
Wednesday/American History
"Christ, Skika! Wake up!" I whisper harshly
The guy presently using me as a pillow and one of my only friends, Shikamaru, stirs only slightly and continues to mumble sleepily. Haku, another friend of mine, prods him none too gently but it gets a reaction about as exciting as dry mulch.
God, this guy sleeps like a rock!
Haku leans over him and reaches over to pinch his nose. All this gets is a lazy half-swat. Sighing, I slouch a bit further into my seat to make the best of the situation. I'm relived when the new position is easier on my seventeen year old back.
At the head of the room, Neiji is meticulously taking notes…like normal...or abnormal. The guy is never not working. I think that's one of the things I admire about him though…
Haku rips a sheet of lined paper out of his boyfriend Zabuza's notebook and quickly scribbles a note on it and tosses it over.
I frown at it and then him in turn and reach out gingerly to read the note.
It takes me a minute to read the looping cursive on the page: 'I didn't see you all yesterday! What classes do you have? Any with Neiji? '
I reach for my pencil case and grimace when I'm met with resistance in the form of Shika's body, which is still, mind you, half draped over me. Growling under my breath, I reach harder and finally get a hold of a pen.
Quickly, I scrawl an answer in my brusque writing: 'Like two with Neiji…and no, we have a single class together on Day One…Sasuke's in my Spanish and Gym class though…'
I toss it over none too stealthily and breathe a sigh of relief when the teacher doesn't seem to notice.
Haku reads it over and makes a face. He glances over at me and mouths: 'Sasuke?'
I make the I'm-afraid-so face and watch, amused, as Haku pulls another face. Next to him, Zabuza yawns quietly.
Shika doesn't bother getting up till the lunch bell rings.
-Thursday/Mokuyobi-: The great thing about Thursday is that it's the day right before Friday; that makes it good in my books. Other then that, I can honestly say that it can actually suck just as bad as Mondays…teachers always give me massive amounts of homework on Thursdays…to be completed for Friday…ugh
Thursday/Gym
Christ. I'm never going to survive this class. I'm pretty good at sports, most guys are. I'm a team player and all, but what happens when most of your team is out to get you?
Kakashi-Sensei, the gym teacher whose head is always buried in a pervert book, is legendary for being the most laid back teacher ever. A good thing because he's a nice guy and has a pretty chill personality although he's kind of got a fruity sense of humor.
It's a bad thing too because he doesn't always seem to be paying much attention to what he's doing, especially when he assigns us to groups and I get stuck with Kiba, a new foreign exchange student named Gaara, Shikamaru, Sasuke and Neiji. Haku and Zabuza are both in other groups.
I can tell this is going to be a painful experience right off the bat.
When you're assigned to a squad, you have to sit with these people while Sensei does attendance, play against other teams together and get along lest Sensei finds need to award demerits for crappy conduct or cheeky behavior towards each other…which sucks massively.
Decked out in white Nike track pants and a black muscle shirt, I plunk down between Shikamaru and Neiji, which is the safest place to be at the moment. Sasuke and Kiba are sitting nearby; Kiba sprawled on the floor comfortably. Gaara sits on the end of our croaked row.
Sensei wanders in ten minutes late and gives us some crusty excuse that he had to save some cat from a tree or something and laughs good naturedly when we give him guff. Attendance is quick and he declares that we're going to play basketball.
I roll my eyes towards the ceiling and thank whoever's listening; I'm actually really good at basketball. If it had been volleyball, I might as well have killed myself.
We have a humongous gym so all five six-man teams will be playing at once. We play fifteen minutes every individual team, winner moves on, loser waits on the same court for a new opponent. All the while, Sensei will be grading us. How? Fuck if I know; he'll have to get his nose out of that book though…
We're on the second court and we have to decide whose gonna jump ball at center.
Neiji, being team captain makes the decision. He turns to me, "You're center forward, Sasuke and I are going to assist. Gaara and Shikamaru will be defense and Kiba can sun-on when he feels like it"
Shika shrugs and motions for Gaara to follow him.
Sasuke can't resist making a snarky comment while we move up, "You sure that's a good decision Hyuga? We're not out to lose you know"
He smirks at me and I cluck my tongue and pretend not to see him. I'm here to play, not crap around with Sasuke. Sides, I don't wanna look like an idiot for arguing with Sasuke in front of Neiji.
Passive, cool-as-ice Neiji glances up briefly, "No, we're not"
Simple as that. He doesn't even feel the need to justify his answer. I'm pretty sure he put me as center forward because we usually see each other early in the mornings. I catch my bus early to come play ball when there's no one on the court to raze me and he comes early cause he's the model student; I'm not being sarcastic by the way. He knows I'm pretty good. By unspoken agreement, he doesn't go around telling people my business although we actually see each other a lot outside of school. Frequently even.
I'm jumping Lee for the ball and the guy is seriously a bit taller. I grin; this is going to be fun. People think that just because I'm short for seventeen, they can demolish me at basketball. Wrong!
We set up and Sensei starts the game on the first court and wanders over to us. He grins when he sees me and prepares to toss the ball.
Offside, the student teacher blows the whistle and Sensei tosses the ball up. Lee jumps, I jump and you can practically already see Lee's team players moving up in anticipation of receiving the ball.
Imagine their surprise and everyone elses when I tip before Lee gets to it, drop gracefully and jet forward; Neiji and a slightly surprised Sasuke close behind. Neiji passes me the ball and I drive till I'm met with resistance. I'm too tired for theatrics today, so I toss Neiji the ball. He moves up and passes to Sasuke, who ends up passing back towards me since I'm open all of a sudden. I cross over the only guy who chases after me and take a shot. Goes in clean, complete with a swish and I can't resist the foxy grin that breaks out over my face.
When I turn towards the court, everyone has stopped playing and is looking at me in awe. Neiji's busy smirking in Sasuke's direction while Sasuke scowls at me.
Obviously, Sasuke doesn't take kindly to being wrong. I pull a face and stick out my tongue; this is my game, it's not my fault he doesn't know that.
I drop the face and grin…forty-five minutes left in the period and I'm just getting warmed up.
-Friday/Kiniyobi-: The only truly good day anyone ever has. Those other 'business' days are totally overrated. It's the day where you can't help but be enthusiastic about school or work or whatever because you know, no matter what you screw up in or who yells at you, you won't have to see their faces or put up with shit again till Monday…and those two golden days known as the weekend? They are yours and nobody's business.
Friday/After School
Like most schools, we have a baseball diamond. In Boston, baseball is a big deal since it's home to the Boston Red Sox. I've, personally, never been crazy about the game but seeing as how our school team has a game and almost anyone who is anyone would go, I'm there too. Not really as a team supporter but nonetheless a spectator.
The bleachers are wide and can comfortably fit most of our students as well as the ones coming from the visiting school. The football cheerleading squad is putting on one of those welcome-to-a-new-year dance presentations. That's normal since it's the first game of our school season.
I was wearing my hoodie up over my head and made sure not to make direct eye contact with anyone I might know or anyone who might know me. For once, I'd like to be out here and not get messed with. I don't get into fights that often if you can consider at least once a month 'not-that-often'. People have a tendency to want to pick on me. I don't know if it's because I have a sign on my forehead that only bully's can see and if there is, it probably advertises in cheerful colors: 'Beat me up, please. I look helpless, I'm short and I'm blond'
Sarcasm aside, it's a nice day and most people are eager to watch the game and not beat the crap out of me, at least not right at the moment. Ironically, I really feel safe when my hair is covered up and people's attention isn't focused on me. Boldly, in my opinion, I peek my head out of the isle I'm sitting in and scan the seats bellow me for signs of my favorite art subject.
He was sitting with his back to the baseball diamond and to me as well; eyes on the street behind the bleachers instead of the game. I was sitting only a few feet away, but my eyes were on him and nothing else. People around us cheered and shouted to encourage the players as the game started but I didn't take anymore notice then he did. I watch the way he turns and sits forward again, slight frown marring his face. Something must really be bothering Neiji if that frown of distaste was anything to go by.
He stood suddenly, moving off the bleachers and towards the school. Impulse made me follow. Whereas people unconsciously moved aside to let him pass, I practically had to fight my way to freedom. After school games weren't my thing anyway. It was better if I headed home too, especially if the subject of my art wasn't going to be around.
Besides us, there were few stranglers hanging out on school property and bumming around instead of watching the game, he and I are the only ones headed anywhere with a purpose in mind. He heads for the west-side entrance and I for the east. I pause long enough to admire him as a whole; I wasn't going to see him again till Monday probably. Pale skin, eyes a dull silver-blue, long hair swept back over strong shoulders and loose. Dressed in jeans and wearing his seasoned army-print bomber jacket; he looked comfortable.
I turn away and move to go inside.
I've always had a bit of a sixth sense. You know, that apprehensive feeling that crawls up your spine at impromptu moments and makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up? I'm sorry to say that right at that moment, I felt it and that it definitely is never a good thing. Trust me, it never happens unless something weird is going to happen.
I am aware of someone approaching me. I pause. I don't glance up until they are right behind me. I'm hoping like crazy that it's not Sasuke. That kid drives me nuts and he likes to beat the crap out of me every once in a while…My heart sinks deeper into misery when I rationalize that it would have to be Sasuke since he hasn't spoken to me yet or made any move to make my life hell and I know he's still mad about Neiji being right about me being good a basketball. I can honestly say that scares me… my life is screwed up like that. If Sasuke didn't do anything, that would mean I had somehow ended up in the twilight zone. I calm my breathing and decide that I better make this quick.
Steeling myself, I glance up and freeze on the spot when I see Neiji stop maybe a foot or two away and regard me with curious eyes. My mouth seems to dry up and I can't bring myself to say anything to him.
I breathe a sigh of relief, though the tension in my body doesn't dissipate. At least, I tell myself, it isn't Sasuke…
The ever sarcastic, and only full-time functioning side of my brain happily chimes in to remind me that if Sasuke doesn't do anything nasty to me today, someone else will…
Christ…
I focus back on Neiji and watch as his eyes narrow slightly, as if he's thinking on something. The look itself only flickers over his features. It's gone seconds after; the slight wrinkles on his forehead smoothing themselves out into his blank, trademark poker face, "Uzumaki?"
I nod, barely believing what I'm hearing. The guy knows my name…well, everyone does, but Neiji knew it. I mean, I've gone to school with the guy forever…but I didn't even think he knew I was around, much less that he might actually know my name.
He looks me over. Not judging, just looking over, "Busy?"
My throat closes up even tighter and I can only manage to shake my head.
Is he asking me what I think he's asking me?
He motions towards himself, "Come with me"
Correction, he isn't asking me…he's telling me.
I nod again and follow him to the west-side entrance.
About an hour later, I've loosened up. Funnily enough, Neiji is actually not as tightly wound-up as I would've expected. He's not a seasoned conversationalist but he's honest…and really, really smart.
"What's this called again?" he questions from across the table.
"Ramen…R-A-M-E-N" I enunciate to pickle him off and grin at the look on his face.
He doesn't get mad though; he just glares at his chopsticks instead.
Between us, on the table, there are various vague sketches that I made. None of them are of him though…those are private. They tell too much about who I am.
Neiji had picked me up after school and asked me, very casually, if I wanted to hang out. I, dumbfounded, had just nodded and tottered along with him mindlessly. In the space of ten minutes, which is how long it took us to get here, I noticed several things during the car ride:
He drove an Audi and hummed Bitter-Sweet Symphony by the Verve.
He drove with his left hand and drummed his fingers on his knee with the right.
He had a tendency to finger comb his hair as he spoke but didn't speak unless spoken to.
So here we were, having an early dinner while he listened and I chatted his ear off. I couldn't help it. It's been a long time since I spoke with another human being the way I was speaking with him…If I'd gone home after school, it would've been to an empty apartment.
Neiji watched me use my chopsticks and seconds later, imitated me and managed to get the hang of it. He was a fast learner.
Neiji picked a charcoal sketch I'd made of the park just off the side of my apartment complex and flipped it towards me, "Excessive use of black", he commented.
I cocked my head and really looked at the picture. He was right, in a way, even though the black accentuated everything, it also gave the picture a somber look.
I nod, "Maybe…depends on the mood"
Neiji shrugs, hair flowing over his shoulders with the movement, "You have a lot of dark moods then"
It's a fact, not a comment and not meant to be a remark taken badly. I scan over the other pictures and realize he's probably right.
I shrug; I've got a perceptive guy on my hands, "And that can be changed how?"
Neiji sets aside his ramen cup gingerly as he reaches across the table and takes my right hand loosely in his left. I flinch but recover fast enough that I don't expect him to have seen.
"Here", he says lightly while tracing the tips of my fingers with his own, "Don't press so hard on the paper…lightly…not so much power from here", he switches to pressing his fingers to my wrist, "Use these", and he tweaks my pinky finger before laying my hand flat on the table.
I pause and glance down at my art. I cringe; it does look a little forced. Funnily enough, I'm surprised Neiji is so observant about little things like that, "Do you draw?" I ask abruptly.
Neiji glances at me and shakes his head, "I used to"
I frown, "But why…"
"-Did I stop?" he finishes for me, "Because I was never really any good and my family… believed it to be a waste of my time"
I mull over this and conclude that although I knew very little about Neiji's family, there are lots of rumors about them. Nothing bad really but stuff about how all the kids are tutored in everything under the sun as soon as they're old enough to walk and weird stuff like that…
I glance at Neiji from under my bangs and watch as he picks up the ramen bowl just as gingerly as when he set it down and uses his chopsticks to get some noodles. Just as they are halfway to his mouth, I get a brilliant idea, "Come to my place!"
Neiji starts slightly and gives me his best what-the-hell look, "Don't do that"
I grin sheepishly, "Sorry, but would you like to? I mean, I wanna show you something…"
He looks at me steadily, silver-blue eyes searching my own sky blue ones and finally nods and smiles very, very slightly, "Alright"
My apartment is located practically ten minutes from the ramen place so it's a cinch to get there. It's small and clean although its not located in the best part of town. Neiji looks around absently. Not really judging the place but just taking in the different surroundings…or at least I suppose that they must be different. I'm sure he doesn't live in a place like this…
He parks his expensive car in the underground garage and I laugh at the fact that no other car present cost even half has much as his silver two-door Audi. I usher him into the building by the back and attempt to make it upstairs without the hag spotting us.
No such luck. She pops out of the reception office at the front on her way out. She isn't really a hag or at least doesn't look like one, but her personality leaves something to be desired. She's a pale blond and wears little makeup though she's stacked in the chest department and is pretty fit, but she's definitely not to be taken lightly.
I urge Neiji into the elevator, but she smoothly sidesteps in and glares at me. Crap…
"Naruto, you brat, that wasn't very polite" she says pleasantly but I can see the small vein threatening to pop out of her forehead.
Neiji looks from her to me and back again before introducing himself, "Hyuga, Neiji. Pleased to make your acquaintance"
Tsunade-Hag nods towards him and smiles, "What'sa good kid like you doing hanging out with this brat?"
Neiji raises an eyebrow and doesn't answer.
Tsunade-Hag's grin broadens, "You'll do him some good. All his other friends are hooligans…"
"As if!" I interrupt, "Haku isn't, neither is Shika…and Zabuza…well, he behaves when Haku's around!"
The elevator stops and, thankfully, the hag climbs off, "Yeah yeah, take it easy Shorty"
I toss my book bag after her when the elevator door shuts and decide that I'll visit later to get it back. Neiji's sighs and I laugh when we both her Tsunade-Hag cursing after me.
Once we reach my floor, I gallop down the hall to my place. I lead Neiji right into my living room, which happens to have zero furniture save a red suede couch that Tsunade-Hag had recently re-upholstered for me. The room, put simply, has various windows, one large bay one and several smaller ones, that light the room. The lack of furniture is because of my need for space for paints and supplies. The walls are lined from top to bottom in detachable white paper and the floor is littered with paintbrushes, crayons, markers and various pots of bright pastel, oil and watercolor paints.
On the wall directly across from us, a half finished finger painting of the red couch is still drying. Absently, I instruct Neiji to put his stuff in the closet just off the kitchen. By the time he wanders back and sits on the couch, legs curled under him and watching me, I'm in my own little man-made world.
I trace a finger thru the still drying paint of the red couch and gently take the tacks out and pull it down to drape it over the small balcony that the only bay window opens onto. Re-entering the room, I glance about and decide that I feel like painting and Neiji is going to help.
"Ne, Neiji?"
He glances over, "Hn"
I grin and put my hands on my hips, "Wanna paint with me?"
His eyes widen a fraction and the surprised expression is soon replaced with a scowling one, "I thought you had something to show me…"
I can feel myself resisting the urge to roll my pretty blue eyes, "Exactly; it involves participation on your part…"
"Ah", he says, legs uncurling from under him and standing from the couch, "Alright"
I look him up and down, noting that he's still in his good clothes.
"We gotta change first!" I exclaim excitedly.
Neiji looks uncertain but shrugs in his laissez-faire manor.
I lead him into my cluttered room and dig thru my closet. By the time we've completely changes clothed, he's now decked out in beige sweat pants that have green and yellow paint on them and a faded black tank with red rose petals painted on. I safely tuck away my favorite orange sweater and pull on a dark violet tee and snug jeans.
Neiji smiles very slightly at the odd way we look and I ignore him and drag him back to the living room. As an afterthought, I make Neiji pull on a blue bandana to keep hair out of his face.
"So, this is what you do…" I start to say turning towards him and gesturing wildly as I continue, "Jus' dip your hands or fingers or whatever in the paints…um, we'll use all these over here, and just paint whatever comes to mind on the canvas paper, Kay?"
Neiji gives me the your-a-Martian-and-I-know-it look and tentatively dips a finger in the lightest blue I have.
"Light blue…interesting"
Neiji pauses, halfway to the canvas and turns about to look at me oddly. I grin and motion for him to continue, "You have to learn to chill out…this isn't a test"
To offer up a good example, I dip my entire right hand into bright, sunlight yellow paint and smooth my hand over the paper and attempt to create a circle that ends up becoming a lopsided oval. Next, I dip my other hand in black and add a cheesy smile and sunglasses to my weirdo sun. I grab a brush and dip it into the mauve, orange and light pink before swishing a few streaks over the sun to create the sunset look.
I stand back to admire the effect and Neiji makes commentary, "Grade 2 Drawing 101…"
"Shut it", I say good-naturedly, "Let's see you do better"
Neiji, oddly enough, actually really gets into it then. At one point, I join in again and we're panting together, him leaning back to let me touch up something he drew or him reaching around me to smudge colors together. The afternoon slowly wears on and our painting makes less and less sense. A haphazard blend of colors and shapes and writing where no one thing is clearly discernible.
We both call it quits at the same time and retreat to the couch to admire our disaster. I try to point out to Neiji, which bits are his and which are mine and why but to no avail. Neiji is first to break the silence; uncharacteristic but welcome, "The point of creating this monster was?"
I grin and laugh, "No point, but anyway, I always thought that you can learn a lot about a person just by checking out what colors they frequently use and what kinds of things they draw consciously and even subconsciously without ever realizing it"
Neiji cocks his head toward the painting and asks me, very seriously, to tell him what I've been able to learn about him from our finger painting session.
I point to the top, far-right corner, "See those birds, the ones you did in black and purple? Birds signify freedom or lack of limitations because they can fly and aren't bound to any certain place…and those buildings you did, the ones at the bottom? They're all neat and straight and in black, like an adult would've drawn 'em, so that's like order and rules…conformist kind of…"
Neiji's eyes narrow slightly and a pensive look comes over his face.
A little uncomfortable, I prod him, "What? Did I say something weird?"
Neiji shakes his head; "No…you have better eyes then me…"
"What?" I scratch the back of my head. What's he on about?
I forget to ask again in favor of noticing that Neiji has yellow paint on the tips of some of his hair, "Holy crap! Neiji, C'mere!"
I grab him without preamble and hustle him into my bathroom. He still doesn't know why the hell I'm freaking out and is giving me the whole bewildered look. Well, he's raising an eyebrow curiously but I'm pretty sure it can be classified as a bewildered look as far as Neiji is concerned in the expression department.
"Look!" I say while pointing at his reflection in the mirror and holding up the strands of painted hair.
Neiji raises an eyebrow and shrugs.
I pull a face, "I'm sorry, I was the one using the yellow…I musta gotten some in there by accident…"
Again, Neiji shrugs, "I'll just cut it off…"
"What!" I wave the paint stained strands at him, "It's not like that! You can't just…"
"It's no big deal", he says while reaching over to the counter where I have small pair of blue scissors sitting innocently.
I pull him away from the counter and maneuver him over to the tub. After I sit him down on the edge comfortably, I give him my best mock-stern expression, "Obviously, your on crack…just…sit still, alright?"
Neiji gives me the poker face "…"
"It'll only take a minute…" I say, half convincing him and half pleading with him.
Neiji's poker face is not to be shattered, "Why are you so worked up about my hair?"
I give him my best Look of Duh, "It's really nice hair…I can't believe you care so little about it!"
Neiji mulls over this while I get warm water, my shampoo and a washcloth. No more protests are forthcoming as I wet the hair and gently set about trying to rub out as much of the bright yellow paint with the washcloth and shampoo as humanly possible.
After maybe a whole twenty minutes of me humming absently to myself while Neiji sits stock still, I rinse everything and step back to survey my efforts…
I'm no expert at hair dye, but if I didn't know better it would probably pass as blond tips…Neiji's hair was such a stark dark brown that it masked the brightness of the sunlight yellow almost…phew
"Sorry 'bout that…"I remember to say while cleaning up.
Neiji shakes his head and stands to leave, "I'll go get changed…"
"Sure, go ahead" I say while I try to avoid splashing water all over myself while dumping the out the bucket unceremoniously into the tub.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as he turns and pads off in the direction of my room. I sigh and finish up before heading of after him
I come in, change and leave, and am gone as quickly as I came in since I notice Neiji on his cell. I poodle into the mini-kitchen and make myself hot chocolate and wait for Neiji to make an appearance. It doesn't take long and I watch, very amused, as he walks thru the hall and into kitchen as casually as he would have if he'd been at his own house.
He's just now tucking away the little silver phone. We eye each other and I star laughing abruptly, "What?"
Neiji shrugs, "I have to go…"
"Kay" I murmur quietly, a little disappointed, and sip at my chocolate. I get up to follow Neiji into the hall, mug still in hand.
At the front door, Neiji turns on me and pulls the black tee I lent him out of its hiding place in his bomber jacket pocket, "May I keep this?"
I grin, "If I say yes will you tell me why?"
Neiji cocks his head, pensive, "This was…a good experience. I'd like to do it again…sometime"
My eyes widen and I almost drop the steaming mug I'm holding. Neiji catches it and hands it back to me cautiously.
"Does this mean we're going to be friends?" I ask a little meekly.
Neiji rolls his eyes and for the first time ever and I am on the receiving end of his first exasperated look, "I would think so"
I grin, "You sure? You might regret it…"
Neiji raises an eyebrow and turns to let himself out. Before he does, he turns around and takes my arm. I flinch slightly and I notice that Neiji frowns. I didn't mean to, it's just that…people touching me makes me uncomfortable…besides, I've been touched for the wrong reasons before and I'm still recovering.
He tactfully pretends like nothing happened and pulls a pen out of his pocket and writes, very gently, a phone number across the inside of my arm, up near my wrist.
I glance at it briefly and get an answer before I ask for one while Neiji tucks away the pen, "It's my cell number…calling me at home would be a nightmare"
I grin and watch as he let's himself out.
Once the door is shut, I drain what's left of my hot chocolate and go dancing off in the direction of the bathroom. I'm bushed so I'll have a quick shower and head to bed. It's only nine o'clock, but I guess having company over for the first time since…ever…I'm not used to it so it took a lot out of me. I can't say, though, that I ever remember having this much fun finger painting…
Fridays Rock!
Ebra: Review please…Ja! Comments are welcome…and also, I have a habit of switching tenses when writing, was everything all right?