There was something exhilarating about the idea of sneaking out of the apartment, unseen by anyone. It was admittedly somewhat childish, but Naoto always attempted to make his exit without giving himself away. It reminded him of a more innocent time, when he would hide and his parents would pretend to have a difficult time finding him, despite how lacking his skills at the task had been. This time, however, he actually had a half decent excuse.
After their impromptu celebration of Hisao committing full time to their band had died down, Hisao and Rin had gone back to their place, which was far closer to the Art building of the university. Knowing, from Hisao's wild stories, that Rin almost always spent most of the night in the atelier, he was hoping he could find her there.
It felt somewhat odd, sneaking off into the night, to meet the girlfriend of one of his friends. Lacking context, it sounded downright terrible.
Naoto quickly pulled his jacket from the coat rack by the front door and unlocked it, as quietly as he could. Making sure to make no noise, he opened it just enough so as to allow himself to slip on through.
Having made it outside without so much as a peep, he gently let the lock fall back into place. There was a spring in his step and a rather satisfied grin on his face. Like a silent, yet deadly assassin, he would sneak his way out of the building.
Just a tad childish.
Outside, Naoto took a deep breath, joyfully inhaling the chilly air of the evening. With it finally being fall, the sun had started vanishing behind the horizon just that tiny bit sooner, allowing his walk to the university to be dipped in an eerie gloom. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind always, without fail, managed to put him in an excellent mood. He considered making a habit out of walking through the fall weather, recording himself coming up with songs, as mother nature inspired him.
Alas, that was not the purpose of his little trip today.
After a short, brisk walk, he found himself on campus ground, with the almost prestige looking building jutting out in the lineup. The longer he stared at it, the more wistful his thoughts became.
Considering their plans for the band had started to pick up finally, the odds were high that he would no longer have as much time to dedicate to the pursuit of art. The thing that he believed to be his calling not so long ago, would now have to be pushed aside for a far different pursuit. In the end, both drawing and music were a form of art, but it still caused him dread when he thought about it.
How much of the person he was before his life went downhill was still around? Was the young man, palette in hand, still in that room atop his high school, staring blankly at the canvas? Would he ever understand why he was left behind, why his canvas was destined to remain empty until the end of his days? How much had he changed since then? Was any of it for the better?
There were too many questions, not nearly enough answers. He hoped this visit would at least provide him with one or two.
As Naoto took the final two steps up the stairs, the atelier down the hall from him, he could hear students laughing and cheering within a classroom.
Must be nice, he thought. To still have that joy when looking at the canvas in front of oneself. All he saw was a way to convey the pain inflicted upon his soul.
God, he could be cringe sometimes.
Naoto walked away from the merry sounds, and toward the double doors at the end of the hall. Having been given the code to enter the Atelier by Rin before, Naoto quickly entered it on the pad beside the door and pushed through.
A short corridor led to a wall, splitting off into two paths, each looping around the obstruction, spilling out into the main room of the atelier. The walls on either path were covered in exquisite paintings, each one more daring than the last.
Naoto gasped the moment he entered the main room. Countless filled canvases were strewn about on the floor. Paint buckets were littering almost every corner of the place, with some of them emptied and laying tipped over. Joining the canvases on the ground were also pencils, charcoal and any sort of instrument an artist may require to produce their master piece.
In the center of the room, sitting on a rather large towel, was Rin, her foot a flurry of color, putting thick, deliberate strokes onto the surface ahead of her. Despite the confident and direct nature with which Rin was painting, whatever it was she was trying to manifest through it was lost upon Naoto.
It honestly hurt to admit.
Feeling somewhat entranced by watching the woman work, Naoto didn't say anything. His hand lazily stuffed in his pockets, the man just stood and observed. He honestly felt almost painfully inferior to her. Here he was, absolutely broken, a shadow of his former self, when it came to drawing anything worthwhile. Meanwhile, Rin was capable of producing odd, yet magnificent and striking pieces, with just her feet.
That was a marvelous achievement in his eyes, even if it most likely no longer warranted a mention from her or even Hisao.
Speaking of, Naoto had never really learned how the two of them had initially met. He knew that Hisao had been studying at a high school for people with disabilities, but that's about it. Naoto didn't wish to pry into the past of others, considering he knew the kind of pain that could be dug up through that.
Realizing that his wordless observation would be considered rude, were it for any other person, he decided it was time to act.
"Hey," Naoto opened weakly, not confident that this was going to go as well as he was hoping, now that he actually stood before her.
Rin's foot didn't stop moving, more intense brush strokes appearing on the canvas in front of her. This, along with the way her head didn't move and inch, gave of the impression that Rin didn't even register his existence. Despite this, her quiet voice suddenly rang out.
"Good morning, Haichiouji."
"It's evening," Naoto corrected her, his eyes darting to the clear, dark night sky visible through the massive window ahead of them.
"It's morning somewhere," Rin retorted, her eyes still evidently glued to the canvas. "But if we're talking in relation to our current location, I think you might be right."
"Pretty sure I am," Naoto sighed as he took a step closer. "Listen, I know this is odd, but I would like to talk to you."
"Well, that's good," the redhead responded with a chipper tone. "Otherwise we'd have to stop this conversation."
Naoto took a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair. Sometimes it felt like talking to Rin was akin to speaking with the king of dad jokes.
"Rin, this is some pretty serious stuff," Naoto admitted, trying to suppress the annoyance he felt for Rin in this moment, as she was still not even slowing down in her artistic process. "I just- I would like to talk to someone who doesn't have their own plans for me. Man, that sounds pretty dramatic when I say it out loud."
"What makes you think I don't?" Rin quickly responded; the wild shapes painted in front of her slowly taking form.
Naoto raised his eyebrow at that. "You telling me you do?"
"Hisao is part of your band now," Rin quietly stated. There was a slight tinge of sadness to her voice, but Naoto couldn't understand why. "I want things for Hiaso. So, I should want things for you. Right?"
The way she asked that question spoke of genuine confusion, as if she truly didn't know whether or not that train of thought made any sense outside of the confines of her head.
"I guess that makes sense," Naoto agreed, tilting his head quizzically. "So you're saying, even you aren't going to be fully unbiased."
"Can any of us be?" Rin asked, her green eyes almost glowing in the moon light. "I can try to be. Would you like me to?"
Naoto chewed on his lip as he pondered the idea. "Sure."
"Alright," Rin said curtly, before suddenly dropping her brush and spinning in her spot to face Naoto. It happened so fast that Naoto actually flinched for a second. "I've never tried to be unbiased. I hope it's fun."
"What should I do?" Naoto came out swinging, evidently considering context to not be a hinderance.
"Paint a duck," Rin recommended with a serious expression. "Ducks are good."
"Are they?" Naoto asked curiously. "Didn't know you liked ducks."
"I don't," Rin assured him hastily. "But they're good."
Naoto scrunched his face together, trying to understand how Hisao put up with this at all times.
"Okay, lets try that again," Naoto suggested. "I-"
Naoto realized that in order to get a good and proper response from Rin, he'd have to somehow help her catch up on every panful detail that had occurred in his life and led him down to this moment, something that he didn't think anyone would be able to stomach in such a short time frame. Let alone Rin.
"Naoto!" Rin stomped with her foot. "I want to be unbiased! Give me something to not be biased over."
"Okay," Naoto said quietly, taking a deep breath before continuing on. "If somebody hurt me, like, did terrible things to me, but I am kind of over it now? Like, I no longer wake up in sweat and tears, struggling to breathe. I am kind of just okay with the fact that happened and I want the person that did that to me to also be okay. I mean, maybe I shouldn't, right? But I do. Like, I just want her to be fine. I feel bad because me being hurt caused her to be hurt and I mean, that's pretty stupid, but it's still- You get what I am saying? Like, I want that to be alright, so that no one in life should have to feel bad about anything that ever happened. Simple, right? What should I do?"
Naoto felt more than a little out of breath after the flood of words finally gave out. Trying to make any sense of the insane rant he had gone on only caused himself confusion. The young man cleared his throat, a little ashamed of his incoherent ramblings.
"No."
Those two letters suddenly grabbed Naoto's attention again. "W-What do you mean no? You don't get what I am saying? It's not simple?"
"No," Rin repeated, her emerald eyes resting on Naoto. "I can't be unbiased. You're my friend. I don't want anyone to hurt you."
Naoto's lips parted in surprise, a quiet sound of confusion being all that he could muster. The redhead continued to stare at him, tilting her head, almost like an owl, to get a better look at him from all angles.
"Did someone hurt you?" Rin asked, her voice laced with concern. "Don't let anyone hurt you."
Naoto's face fell as he realized that Rin, despite her strange demeanor and her oddly detached behavior, still cared about him. She saw him as a friend. He was important.
His brow lowered and his lip quivered lightly, as he felt like he finally saw a brief glimpse of who Rin truly was.
"It was some time ago," Naoto admitted, trying to ease her worries, without outright lying. "I am okay now."
Those emerald eyes were fixated on him with an intensity that Naoto had never experienced before. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed she was reading his mind, trying to unlock the memories he was hiding away.
That thought actually caused a shiver to run up his spine. If anyone could ever rip those memories from him, relive those awful moments, see him in that horrific situation, he didn't think there was a chance of reconciliation.
No one could ever see him like that.
Not again.
Suddenly, Rin's gaze softened and she turned her head away from Naoto, toward the window.
"Oh," she mouthed emotionlessly. "It's night."
Naoto smiled and closed his eyes, starting to see the appeal of Rin's oddity.
Naoto wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door to the atelier opened and Hisao walked in.
After having come to the understanding that even Rin couldn't provide him with the unbiased, untainted view he had been searching for, Naoto had decided to stay for a while longer and watch. It was so oddly fascinating, watching this woman paint in her unique way.
"Naoto?" came Hisao's puzzled voice from the entryway. "What are you doing here?"
Without missing a beat, Rin blinked at Hisao over her shoulder. "He's looking at my feet."
Naoto took a deep, pain filled breath.
"I am not," he assured, rubbing his temple. Well. "Maybe I am."
"What!?"
Hisao looked at him incredulously, far too bewildered to be upset.
"I am sure you are used to it by now," Naoto began explaining. "But I think that her skills are outstanding. I am envious."
"Oh," Hisao mouthed, not dissimilar to the way Rin had done prior. "I see. I guess that makes sense. Rin, don't say weird things about our friends."
"Mhm," she hummed from her canvas, no longer looking in their direction.
Naoto felt the strangest sense of wholesomeness from watching the two of them interact. It wasn't as straight forward and composed as Tadano and Komi, but certainly not as toxic and unhealthy as the relationships he had experienced in the past.
It felt perfect for them.
"So," Hisao started again, now standing next to Naoto. "Did you come here with feet in mind, or...?"
"Can we drop that?" Naoto asked, aggravation building. "I came to ask Rin for advice."
Upon that, Hisao raised one of his brows and a sneer started tugging at the edge of his lip. "Seriously?"
Naoto rolled his eyes at him and continued to observed the work of art ahead of him. He still had not the faintest idea what it was she was drawing, but it certainly filled him with a profound sense of- something. It was hard to put into words. The colors were all over the place, hardly harmonizing. No, in earnest, one would find it hard to refer to it as anything other than a clash.
Thick, heavy strokes dashed toward one end of the canvas, while thin, almost sickly looking lines ran perpendicular to them, forming small waves.
Was he feeling dread? Was it pity?
Those small, insignificant waves, outmatched, barely able to squeeze by the bold movements of the strokes by their side. It felt poignant, but Naoto couldn't wrap his head around why.
Hisao, who had been observing Naoto's attempt at deciphering his own feelings, spoke up with a smile on his lips. "It's always wild to watch her, isn't it? I can't fully say I always get it, maybe I never will. But I think that's okay. Just being allowed to be by her side while she puts her soul into her art is mostly enough."
"You ask me for a lot more than that," Rin shot back almost instantly, taking them both off guard. She glanced over her shoulder and Naoto could spot a grin on her face, accentuated by half lidded eyes.
"Okay," Hisao huffed, his gaze falling onto the ground before him. "Think we're done here. Everyone go home now."
"What?" Rin groaned, the paint brushing dropping from between her toes. "But I am almost done."
Hisao placed his hand on his hips and stared her down with raised eyebrows. "I doubt that. This looks more like your first draft."
"How do you even draft this?" Naoto questioned. This did not seem like the sort of piece you could adjust on a whim.
Hisao snickered at the question, his amusement with Naoto's unfamiliarity of Rin's process seemingly boundless. "You're the artists. Shouldn't you know?"
"Naoto lost his touch with art," Rin dully stated, as if it was never intended to cut as deep as it did.
"Rin!" Hisao cried out in disbelief, much to Rin's shock.
"What?"
A wry, sorrowful smile spread on Naoto's lips as he held up a hand to stop Hisao from potentially admonishing the woman. He wasn't certain when he obtained it, but he now held this powerful belief that Rin was incapable of willfully attacking another person. Any harm done by her was surely an accident, unforeseen by her. And if Naoto felt this way, he assumed Hisao did as well, which would mean any harsh words he was about to direct at her were for exclusively for Naoto's benefit.
And he didn't want to cause more rifts.
Hisao's stance visibly relaxed, just a touch, as he shook his head with a sigh. "That was insensitive Rin."
Rin fully rose from her seat and turned to face the two of them. Upon recognizing the pain in Naoto's face, the woman winced, physical discomfort plain to see in her stance.
"I-" the redhead began, clearly struggling to find the words she wished to utilize. At a glance, it seemed a little strange and off putting, but the longer her distress lingered, the more it horrified Naoto. The effort she had to put into aligning her mentality with what was socially expected of her, appeared to be draining her rapidly.
A quick glance to the side confirmed that Hisao was struggling to remain stern before the sight as well, but he must have more than enough experience with it by now, as he remained steadfast regardless.
Naoto wanted to say something, stop this strange and uncomfortable situation, but if there was anyone who would know Rin's breaking point, it would be Hisao.
Eventually, Rin loosened up, her face returning to a more neutral and controlled expression, as if whatever snag she had hit had been overcome.
"I see," Rin spoke drily. "I didn't mean to offend you Naoto."
Part of Naoto wanted to loudly exclaim his bewilderment at the situation, while the others struggled to hold it back. To him, the sight before him had been akin to a lethal struggle, one that could only end with the death of one of its combatants. Luckily, Rin had surmounted her opponent and emerged stronger.
All that for a simple 'I am sorry.'
Naoto wasn't sure how to feel about that realization. One thing was certain however, he most assuredly would never again underestimate just how difficult social norms could be to comprehend for certain individuals.
"It's alright Rin," he assured her, not willing to leave her hanging. "You aren't wrong either. I am pretty bottom of the barrel right now."
Rin's eyes narrowed as she took a couple of steps toward him, seemingly sizing him up. "You're wrong."
"Huh?"
Naoto cocked his head, puzzled by her sudden contradiction. "You just said-"
"I said," Rin began, her eyes glowing fiercely in this room barely illuminated by the moon. "That you lost your touch with art. You still draw well. But what you draw is no longer you. It's something else. It's skating on the surface, trying hard to comprehend. Your soul and your canvas are no longer one."
Naoto was strangely affected by these words. He found himself agreeing with her, to an almost shocking degree. It felt like the first time he had fully grasped the meaning behind every syllable Rin spoke, which was a truly intoxicating sensation, akin to solving an ancient riddle. Perhaps it was simply because the two of them were artists, each in tune with the way the other felt about their passionate pursuit, unrelating to their individuality. Was that even possible?
"Thank you," Naoto smiled genuinely at her, something she returned in kind. Suddenly, it was Hisao who felt somewhat lost.
"You're welcome."
The moment Naoto had returned to his room, he sighed and flung himself into the comfort of his sheets, wishing to forget about his sorrows.
There had been no new answers to his burning questions. Still, he remained clueless about the course he was supposed to chart.
Having laid the long standing friendship of four women to ruin, shattering any chance they had at a peaceful life, left him with another scar on his heart. His mind was incapable of seeing the truth behind the self loathing, fueling every single one of his actions.
It was his fault. That was the only constant in his world. Each misfortune befalling those that knew him would be his mistake, regardless of the circumstances.
Still, there was a hint of clarity, cutting through the shadows of doubt lingering within him. Even he, with his savior complex coiled around the self hatred clutching him tightly, could see that this situation was far too complex to be solved by himself within the span of a day.
Things were out of his hands now. It was a difficult pill to swallow, but with the proper amount of hydration, he would eventually be able to keep it down.
That didn't mean he would not try his hands at a scheme or two.
In fact, the first one was already taking shape in his mind.