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Rikkai troika gen, University setting. Inspired by this image. 904 words. 31_days prompt: 9 November 2005: An electric Michelangelo.
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An Electric Michelangelo
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It's a chilly winter morning and there's no time to waste - Yukimura slips out of the coffee shop with his Gingerbread Latte and Sanada and Yanagi are stood patiently waiting for him regardless of the wind whipping around them. Somehow Yukimura had managed to find himself further back in the queue than the two of them, and by the time Yanagi had noticed and offered to let him back in it had been too late and he and Sanada were already ordering. Yukimura's cut-off gloves leave his fingertips bare, and he presses them firmly to the warmth radiating out from his cup.
"We're going to be late," Sanada mutters, something they all know which didn't need to be said. It's tempting to point out that he could have gone ahead without them, but neither Yanagi nor Yukimura give in to the temptation. You don't question Sanada's loyalty, and you certainly don't make fun of it. They set off together, heads ducked down against the wind.
Sanada ignores his drink as he strides along, his free hand clutching his bag to his side to keep it from bouncing against his hip at the furious pace of his steps. The tassels of Yanagi's knitted hat stream behind him, and the pom-pom on top bounces with every step he takes, and Yukimura can't help smiling behind him. When Yanagi had first worn the hat - knitted by some elderly aunt or grandmother - Yukimura had spent the entire day tugging on the tassels at random moments just for the fun of it. Yanagi sips on his seasonal beverage of choice, a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha as he walks, almost stumbling to lean down and sip at it each time, he's in such a hurry.
Yukimura's rucksack on his back leaves his hands both free to continue gripping his cup. His scarf flaps in the wind, because he hasn't had the foresight to tuck his into his jacket like Sanada and Yanagi have. He depends on layers instead, his long coat that stops at mid-thigh undone over a lighter jacket, a jumper and a shirt.
They reach the end of the pedestrianised walkway and stop at the traffic lights. Yukimura pokes at one of the ear-flaps to Sanada's trapper hat.
"What have you got today?" He asks hopefully. Sanada always flits between two choices, Green Tea Latte which Yukimura hates, and Chai Tea Latte which he adores.
Sanada just offers out the cup in response, eyes going back to watching the traffic light as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Yukimura takes a sip and pulls a face; it's green tea. When he looks up Sanada's mouth is set in a grim smile.
"You could've said," Yukimura says, wiping his mouth and handing back the cup.
"You wouldn't have believed me anyway," Sanada replies. "Drink your own drink."
Yukimura sticks his tongue out at Sanada and does as he suggests, swirling his own latte in his mouth to rid himself of the bitter tang. The traffic light changes and they cross the road and cut through the park to get to their university campus.
Most of the trees are bare, except for the evergreens and the particularly stubborn ones that still cling to orange, red and brown leaves in places. The benches are frosted over. Sometimes Yukimura, Yanagi and Sanada sit on them and share - lunch if no other students have beaten them to it, in which case they stretch out on the grass - but not in this weather.
The ground isn't damp, but it gives that impression anyway, the leaves that are on it have a wet sheen to them and they stick, and yet are slippery if you step on them. Not far from the exit at the other end of the park a small crowd has formed, which is unusual considering the season.
Sanada charges through, utterly uncaring of what is going on. Yanagi spares a brief glance as he walks through for the sake of knowing. If it were an emergency of some sort he might stop, out of compassion. But it's simply a street artist at work, and that's nothing he hasn't seen before. They're going to be late.
Yukimura is the one who stops. Sanada and Yanagi are ahead of him and still moving, the gap between them increasing. The man is wearing too little to be outside for a long period of time like this, ripped jeans and a jumper over a t-shirt, but he doesn't seem bothered. His hand moves furiously over the ground, although he has a fair few canvases propped up for sale, too. It seems ridiculous to draw on the floor for nothing when the weather could turn at any moment and wash it away.
And yet he uses colours completely out of season; bright and bold primary colours accented by alternating warm and cold tones. It brings the park alive again, Yukimura thinks.
"Seiichi," Yanagi says, appearing a few steps away from him. "We're going to be late."
"I'm coming," he replies, sparing one last glance for the street artist who can't be any older than he is. The brunette catches him and their eyes meet. He smiles, and Yukimura makes the decision before he moves his feet and carries himself away.
He just has to hope the man will still be there by the time his first free period comes along.
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It's a chilly winter morning and there's no time to waste - Yukimura slips out of the coffee shop with his Gingerbread Latte and Sanada and Yanagi are stood patiently waiting for him regardless of the wind whipping around them. Somehow Yukimura had managed to find himself further back in the queue than the two of them, and by the time Yanagi had noticed and offered to let him back in it had been too late and he and Sanada were already ordering. Yukimura's cut-off gloves leave his fingertips bare, and he presses them firmly to the warmth radiating out from his cup.
"We're going to be late," Sanada mutters, something they all know which didn't need to be said. It's tempting to point out that he could have gone ahead without them, but neither Yanagi nor Yukimura give in to the temptation. You don't question Sanada's loyalty, and you certainly don't make fun of it. They set off together, heads ducked down against the wind.
Sanada ignores his drink as he strides along, his free hand clutching his bag to his side to keep it from bouncing against his hip at the furious pace of his steps. The tassels of Yanagi's knitted hat stream behind him, and the pom-pom on top bounces with every step he takes, and Yukimura can't help smiling behind him. When Yanagi had first worn the hat - knitted by some elderly aunt or grandmother - Yukimura had spent the entire day tugging on the tassels at random moments just for the fun of it. Yanagi sips on his seasonal beverage of choice, a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha as he walks, almost stumbling to lean down and sip at it each time, he's in such a hurry.
Yukimura's rucksack on his back leaves his hands both free to continue gripping his cup. His scarf flaps in the wind, because he hasn't had the foresight to tuck his into his jacket like Sanada and Yanagi have. He depends on layers instead, his long coat that stops at mid-thigh undone over a lighter jacket, a jumper and a shirt.
They reach the end of the pedestrianised walkway and stop at the traffic lights. Yukimura pokes at one of the ear-flaps to Sanada's trapper hat.
"What have you got today?" He asks hopefully. Sanada always flits between two choices, Green Tea Latte which Yukimura hates, and Chai Tea Latte which he adores.
Sanada just offers out the cup in response, eyes going back to watching the traffic light as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Yukimura takes a sip and pulls a face; it's green tea. When he looks up Sanada's mouth is set in a grim smile.
"You could've said," Yukimura says, wiping his mouth and handing back the cup.
"You wouldn't have believed me anyway," Sanada replies. "Drink your own drink."
Yukimura sticks his tongue out at Sanada and does as he suggests, swirling his own latte in his mouth to rid himself of the bitter tang. The traffic light changes and they cross the road and cut through the park to get to their university campus.
Most of the trees are bare, except for the evergreens and the particularly stubborn ones that still cling to orange, red and brown leaves in places. The benches are frosted over. Sometimes Yukimura, Yanagi and Sanada sit on them and share - lunch if no other students have beaten them to it, in which case they stretch out on the grass - but not in this weather.
The ground isn't damp, but it gives that impression anyway, the leaves that are on it have a wet sheen to them and they stick, and yet are slippery if you step on them. Not far from the exit at the other end of the park a small crowd has formed, which is unusual considering the season.
Sanada charges through, utterly uncaring of what is going on. Yanagi spares a brief glance as he walks through for the sake of knowing. If it were an emergency of some sort he might stop, out of compassion. But it's simply a street artist at work, and that's nothing he hasn't seen before. They're going to be late.
Yukimura is the one who stops. Sanada and Yanagi are ahead of him and still moving, the gap between them increasing. The man is wearing too little to be outside for a long period of time like this, ripped jeans and a jumper over a t-shirt, but he doesn't seem bothered. His hand moves furiously over the ground, although he has a fair few canvases propped up for sale, too. It seems ridiculous to draw on the floor for nothing when the weather could turn at any moment and wash it away.
And yet he uses colours completely out of season; bright and bold primary colours accented by alternating warm and cold tones. It brings the park alive again, Yukimura thinks.
"Seiichi," Yanagi says, appearing a few steps away from him. "We're going to be late."
"I'm coming," he replies, sparing one last glance for the street artist who can't be any older than he is. The brunette catches him and their eyes meet. He smiles, and Yukimura makes the decision before he moves his feet and carries himself away.
He just has to hope the man will still be there by the time his first free period comes along.
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