Challenge – Yama Pair Shorts: 044 Stink
Aug. 7th, 2014 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neko_kirin3104044. Stink
Pair: Ohno/Sho
Prompt: 042 Stink
Word count: 828
Series: Waku Waku Orphans
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Sho was perfectly aware of just how much his drawings stink. He certainly did not need people constantly telling him this.
He could pretty much tolerate and sometimes even laugh off the cheeky wisecracks (“It looks like a construction site sign, Sho-chan. Not a tiger.”), the straight-shooting remarks (“Sorry, but it’s hurting my eyes.”), and the roaring fits of laughter that’s usually all the reaction he got for his artistic efforts.
It wasn’t like he’s planning to be an artist when he grew up anyway, so he had never really let all of that bother him too much.
Besides, it’s not like it’s his fault that his idea of art did not conform to the conventional standards of awe-inspiring.
Surely, his personal rendition of Totoro (too round, too bald, and too freakin’ un-Totoro-like to even be considered a poor knockoff) did not make him any less artistic than Satoshi, who could probably draw a droplet of water as impressive as a nautilus shell.
Satoshi has skills. Sho has vision.
And Sho would tell himself this all the time, over and over, as he went about tearing every failed artwork into four parts, crumpling all torn pieces into a single ball of dejection before tossing it into the nearest trash bin like he thought he could score an easy shot from five feet away.
He almost never did.
Apparently, Sports was not his strongest suit either.
And this really didn’t bother him, too.
Just as all the attention his art was getting was no reason to get stressed over.
And the fact that he had just slammed the door of his room close like he wished the rest of the world could just go up in flames and disappear, had absolutely nothing to do with hearing Satoshi say, “Sho-chan’s drawings are never any good.”
Of course, he did not resent that remark. Why would he, when he had known that all along?
Surely, hearing it from Satoshi’s mouth was not gonna make a difference in his life, right?
And the aching urge to grab his roommate’s sketches (all neatly filed in a leather folder the boy kept at the bottom of their shared drawer) and mince them all apart with his bare hands had absolutely nothing to do with anything!
No, not at all!
Sho yanked the folder out anyway, his breathing short, hot, and snorty.
He knew how much this folder meant to Satoshi. And how much it would upset the boy to lose it over such a childishly vindictive reason—
He stopped. And blinked.
And right then and there it hit him, as his face slacked out of the angered frown he had brought with him to this room, What the hell am I doing?
He wasn’t even aware he had been frowning. Or that he had even made it to this room at all.
He sighed, the pounding in his ears fading away as proper sense began clicking right back into place.
Snorting and giggling and shaking his head at his own stupidity, he decided to lay off Satoshi’s innocent artworks and was just about to shove the folder back into the drawer when he caught sight of the corner of a crumpled paper sticking out from the file.
It had his name written on it.
He flipped the folder open. He gasped.
At the back of the file, mixed in with Satoshi’s sketches were Sho’s own art collection—crumpled pages smoothened out, torn edges taped together, each marked with a heartmark right beside his name.
His vision blurring, he let out first a snort and then a giggle, shaking his head at Satoshi’s unexpected stupidity—
The door opened then closed—
A startled gasp, “Sh-Sho-chan!” The rustling of paper—
Sho turned to the boy who was standing by the door like he had just been caught with his hands down his pants.
Except that Satoshi’s hands were behind him.
And the visibly fidgeting boy was obviously hiding something back there.
Sho could already see the crumpled edge of the artwork he had just thrown away peering from behind his roommate’s thigh.
He sniffed, gently closing the folder. He blinked, shamelessly letting a tear slide down his cheek. “Hey...”
“You saw them, huh?” Satoshi mumbled, chewing on his cheek, turning his eyes away.
Sho hummed casually, teasingly. “Do you really think my drawings stink, Satoshi-kun?”
It took a while, but Satoshi eventually smiled and met his hopeful gaze, face all red and guilty. “Of course I do,” the boy said softly, sincerely. “But I like them all the same.”
The words did feel a little rough, a little too honest to be sweet.
But Sho smiled because he knew this was all the affirmation he would ever need. “Thanks a lot, jerk.”
Satoshi chuckled and walked over to add the newest patched-up drawing to their shared file with so much care that he might as well be handling the Mona Lisa.
Sho felt a lot better now.
Next >>>>>
Note: some references taken from Arashi no Shukudai-kun 2010.01.04 – the one with the tiger drawing. And G no Arashi 2006.03.01 & 2006.08.23 – the ones with the matching game. XD
Pair: Ohno/Sho
Prompt: 042 Stink
Word count: 828
Series: Waku Waku Orphans
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Sho was perfectly aware of just how much his drawings stink. He certainly did not need people constantly telling him this.
He could pretty much tolerate and sometimes even laugh off the cheeky wisecracks (“It looks like a construction site sign, Sho-chan. Not a tiger.”), the straight-shooting remarks (“Sorry, but it’s hurting my eyes.”), and the roaring fits of laughter that’s usually all the reaction he got for his artistic efforts.
It wasn’t like he’s planning to be an artist when he grew up anyway, so he had never really let all of that bother him too much.
Besides, it’s not like it’s his fault that his idea of art did not conform to the conventional standards of awe-inspiring.
Surely, his personal rendition of Totoro (too round, too bald, and too freakin’ un-Totoro-like to even be considered a poor knockoff) did not make him any less artistic than Satoshi, who could probably draw a droplet of water as impressive as a nautilus shell.
Satoshi has skills. Sho has vision.
And Sho would tell himself this all the time, over and over, as he went about tearing every failed artwork into four parts, crumpling all torn pieces into a single ball of dejection before tossing it into the nearest trash bin like he thought he could score an easy shot from five feet away.
He almost never did.
Apparently, Sports was not his strongest suit either.
And this really didn’t bother him, too.
Just as all the attention his art was getting was no reason to get stressed over.
And the fact that he had just slammed the door of his room close like he wished the rest of the world could just go up in flames and disappear, had absolutely nothing to do with hearing Satoshi say, “Sho-chan’s drawings are never any good.”
Of course, he did not resent that remark. Why would he, when he had known that all along?
Surely, hearing it from Satoshi’s mouth was not gonna make a difference in his life, right?
And the aching urge to grab his roommate’s sketches (all neatly filed in a leather folder the boy kept at the bottom of their shared drawer) and mince them all apart with his bare hands had absolutely nothing to do with anything!
No, not at all!
Sho yanked the folder out anyway, his breathing short, hot, and snorty.
He knew how much this folder meant to Satoshi. And how much it would upset the boy to lose it over such a childishly vindictive reason—
He stopped. And blinked.
And right then and there it hit him, as his face slacked out of the angered frown he had brought with him to this room, What the hell am I doing?
He wasn’t even aware he had been frowning. Or that he had even made it to this room at all.
He sighed, the pounding in his ears fading away as proper sense began clicking right back into place.
Snorting and giggling and shaking his head at his own stupidity, he decided to lay off Satoshi’s innocent artworks and was just about to shove the folder back into the drawer when he caught sight of the corner of a crumpled paper sticking out from the file.
It had his name written on it.
He flipped the folder open. He gasped.
At the back of the file, mixed in with Satoshi’s sketches were Sho’s own art collection—crumpled pages smoothened out, torn edges taped together, each marked with a heartmark right beside his name.
His vision blurring, he let out first a snort and then a giggle, shaking his head at Satoshi’s unexpected stupidity—
The door opened then closed—
A startled gasp, “Sh-Sho-chan!” The rustling of paper—
Sho turned to the boy who was standing by the door like he had just been caught with his hands down his pants.
Except that Satoshi’s hands were behind him.
And the visibly fidgeting boy was obviously hiding something back there.
Sho could already see the crumpled edge of the artwork he had just thrown away peering from behind his roommate’s thigh.
He sniffed, gently closing the folder. He blinked, shamelessly letting a tear slide down his cheek. “Hey...”
“You saw them, huh?” Satoshi mumbled, chewing on his cheek, turning his eyes away.
Sho hummed casually, teasingly. “Do you really think my drawings stink, Satoshi-kun?”
It took a while, but Satoshi eventually smiled and met his hopeful gaze, face all red and guilty. “Of course I do,” the boy said softly, sincerely. “But I like them all the same.”
The words did feel a little rough, a little too honest to be sweet.
But Sho smiled because he knew this was all the affirmation he would ever need. “Thanks a lot, jerk.”
Satoshi chuckled and walked over to add the newest patched-up drawing to their shared file with so much care that he might as well be handling the Mona Lisa.
Sho felt a lot better now.
Next >>>>>
Note: some references taken from Arashi no Shukudai-kun 2010.01.04 – the one with the tiger drawing. And G no Arashi 2006.03.01 & 2006.08.23 – the ones with the matching game. XD
