Work Text:
Jojo had a project. More specifically, an art project. Even more specifically, an art project that had to do with paint. Even more specifically, an art project that had to do with painting a person—and he didn’t have anyone to paint.
That wasn’t too much of a problem because procrastination was a thing and he could always ask his friends to model for him, so yeah. Nothing much of a problem except for the fact that Jojo wanted this project to be a little more special than some random on the street. But whoooooooo?
He sighed, tossing a pencil at the ceiling before catching it with his other hand. Danny gave him a quiet look when Jojo threw the pencil again only to watch it pathetically rebound off the ceiling and land somewhere far, far away—and sigh again.
He waved at Danny.
Danny smiled back before going back to his phone. Jojo went back to what he was doing as well, which wasn’t very interesting but he couldn’t complain. He’d figure something out eventually.
Several moments passed as he continued staring up at the ceiling. For one, there was nothing interesting about the ceiling (it was a basic ass white ceiling with zero lumps and stuff) but that was almost a perfect backdrop to the thoughts bumbling around in his head. For second, he didn’t have a headache before he flopped backwards onto the couch, legs slung over the back, but he could feel one forming. And for a third… Danny was sitting right next to him.
Now that wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it was a good thing—in fact, it was a really good thing. Jojo quite liked when Danny sat next to him, whether that be in class, during lunch, or whenever. The only reason it was not a good thing right now was because every time he started thinking about who he wanted to paint, he’d think about Danny.
Now that also wasn’t a bad thing because he’d drawn Danny before (with permission of course), but he had never painted him. Insofar as the differences went, there weren’t many, however the drawing only surmounted to basic sketches. There had been a charcoal drawing at one point, but the rest didn’t have color, but it also wasn’t like charcoal had many colors aside from lots of charcoal to less charcoal to even less charcoal to no charcoal. With more range in between.
Regardless, the point was that he didn’t know if he wanted to paint Danny. Or, well, if Danny would even say yes! He might, he might not, but hm. Would he say yes? A quick glance over revealed him still on his phone but tapping away at something instead of watching like he was earlier. Hmm…
“Danny?”
Instantly, Danny looked up from his phone, looked around before his gaze fell on Jojo. An amused smile crossed his face as he put his phone down. “What’s up?”
Oh. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t thought about what to say next. Uh. Uh, uh, uh. Uhhhhh—
“Can I paint you?”
Danny raised his eyebrow, turning sideways to face him a little easier. “You want to paint me?”
Oh. Oh fuck. Jojo really hadn’t thought that far ahead. But he had already asked and he might as well figure out the answer. “Will you say yes if I say yes?”
A soft smile spread across Danny’s face and he laughed. “Only if you say yes.”
Well finance—and Jojo had always been weak to Danny, whether it be to his eyes, his smile, his laugh, his jokes, whatever. One word was all he needed, and Danny had given him more than that, far more than that. He may not have figured out how he got this far or where exactly he was going with it, but he would be damned if he didn’t at least try and do Danny justice.
He sat up, unhooked his legs from behind the couch, faced Danny. “May I have the honor of painting you, Kyle Sakamaki?”
Danny laughed again. “As long as I get to see it, Joseph Pyun.”
—
Joseph “Jojo” Joon Pyun hadn’t realized drawing people would be this hard. He hadn’t realized painting people was this hard—and he hadn’t even gotten to the painting part!
So far, for the past few days, he’d been practicing various sketches and poses, trying to find the right composition for the piece. Only, it had been a few days, and he rarely did linework for his art. And that wasn’t even taking into account how he rarely painted realistically. That had been one of the criteria for the project though, so he had to try regardless.
He sighed as he set the pencil down, flopping backwards onto the spinning chair behind him. Spin, spin, spin… He spun around a few more times on the chair before slowing to a stop facing his latest attempt at a sketch.
Outside, light from the moot filtered through the curtains, highlighting his other attempts. Meanwhile, the bright fluorescence from the singular lamp spotlighted the piece on the stand—and there was just something off about it, just like every single other attempt he had done.
It didn’t bother Jojo, usually, whenever he didn’t have an idea in mind. That was what the basic sketches were for: getting something down first so he could build off it. But right now? Fuck him if he knew what he was doing. And—fuck, if he was struggling this hard with just linework, then he was he supposed to paint Danny!? It was one thing with just an outline, but it was another thing entirely with the brush strokes and the rendering and the color—
Fuck, how was he supposed to get the color right!?
A little later, when he had finally cleaned up and had dragged himself off the bed, he simply laid there for a bit, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. More than anything, he wanted this painting to be perfect—because how could it be anything else when it came to Danny?
It was Danny, and surely that meant far more than anything else.
Hm. If Jojo asked for help, it would be okay, right? Nothing in the rubric said anything about asking for outside intervention so surely it was okay. But who exactly could be asked for help…
Oh. They were always an option.
—
“Vulcan, Vulcan, I need help. Can you help me?”
Philippe “Vulcan” Laflamme looked up from his work and Jojo just beamed at him.
It had taken a bit for Jojo to locate Vulcan, running around as he had. Though “a little bit” was also a little of an understatement when it had taken roughly thirty minutes of speed walking plus ten minutes of jogging and an additional five minutes of running. The last five minutes had only happened because Jojo had forgotten the most obvious place in the world to find Vulcan and so had to backtrack lest he lose even more time.
Vulcan held his gaze for a little before he exhaled a laugh and turned back to his art. “What do you need, Jojo?”
Oh. He hadn’t thought this far ahead either. He’d been doing that a lot recently.
For a few moments, Jojo watched Vulcan pain. Like always, Vulcan kept his brushstrokes light and simple, choosing to create contrast and value from the colors themselves. His palette was simple, usually seven or less colors (black and white didn’t really count) depending on the size of the piece, but the sheer amount of value, from the highlights to shadows, always amazed Jojo.
Currently, Vulcan was painting his favorite landscape for what seemed like the hundredth time. A forest lay in front of them, with patches of wildflowers blooming in front. There wasn’t much interesting about it in Jojo’s opinion, but Vulcan loved it so he couldn’t really judge. This time, Vulcan had strayed away from using the actual colors for the painting and instead had gone for only three colors. Three colors, and somehow Vulcan had gotten a wholeass color wheel from then (which, to be fair, Jojo could, too, but he pretty much sucked at anything higher than basic color theory).
“Can you help with color theory?”
Vulcan paused again, looked up for a second time. “I thought you passed that class.”
“I did—with a C.”
Vulcan laughed, mixed a color before going back to his painting. “And why do you need my help?”
Well technically it wasn’t like Jojo needed it, but he really, really wanted it. Otherwise, how else was he supposed to capture the exact shade of Danny’ eyes, undertones and colored flecks and all? How else was he supposed to make sure he captured Danny in all his… It was Danny. Where else was he supposed to go for help?
“Because I need help with color theory?”
“That sounds like a question, Jojo,” Vulcan said, amused like he’d been since the start of this conversation. “Give me a time, and I’ll give you a place. Deal?”
Jojo considered it for a moment, nodded. “Deal.”
—
“You’re late.”
Jojo rolled his eyes as he set down his bag, digging out his paint brushes and palette. “I wouldn’t be late if someone hadn’t texted me the place fifteen whole minutes ago and without telling me it would take twenty minutes to get there.”
Vulcan laughed at that as he adjusted his canvas. “It took a while to find a place as nice as this. And besides, I thought you might want a change of pace from what you think I usually paint.”
Said place was quite a walk from campus, but Jojo had to agree it was quite nice. The day itself was more than pleasant, just cool enough for a jacket but warm enough for nothing more. They sat on the edge of a pond in some small park, all sorts of small bushes and smaller wildflowers dotting the landscape. A family of Canadian geese ran around, the little goslings flapping their wings as they raced after their parents.
“So you’re saying you’re not painting landscapes anymore?” Jojo asked as he took a seat in front of the other canvas Vulcan had prepped. He stared at the empty palette. For some reason, Vulcan had asked him not to bring any paint—which Jojo had listened to!—but now he didn’t know what to do. “So… uh. How is this supposed to help?”
Vulcan laughed again, handing his own tubes of paint over. “I thought it would be easier if we used the same kind of paint since, you know—”
“—different brands use different pigments, yeah, yeah. That makes sense.”
Once Jojo finished squeezing out all the paint he needed, he handed the tubes back to Vulcan. He stared at the colored globs while Vulcan put the them away, trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do now. Uhm.
“Why haven’t you started yet?”
Jojo blinked, looking back up to meet Vulcan’s gaze. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me?”
Vulcan raised his eyebrow, gestured at him with his paintbrush. “And you expect me to be able to teach you anything if you’re not going to do anything? Get to it.”
Uh. Uh. Uh, uh, uh, uhhhhhhhh— Jojo’s brain short-circuited for a bit as he looked up and down between the landscape he was supposed to paint, the canvas he was supposed to paint it on, and the colors he was supposed to paint it with. Where was he supposed to start again?
A quick glance at Vulcan’s canvas revealed nothing because dammit, it was still blank but hey at least he was mixing paint too! Vulcan caught him staring not a moment later, raising his eyebrow at Jojo as he gestured with his paintbrush again.
Jojo made a face right back, only to sigh when he looked back at his own palette and canvas. Just one stroke at a time…
From there it at least went well enough, something vaguely resembling the trees and base shape of the pond finally taking shape. It certainly wasn’t helped by the fact the family of geese kept moving though, and damn wasn’t that annoying? Still, something was finally there, except the colors seemed… off. Huh.
“What colors are you mixing right now, Jojo?”
He looked up at the sound of his name, his hand pausing from continuing to mix the pool of paint. “Uhm. The green and the blue with some white?”
Vulcan snorted, but he didn’t correct him with the actual names. “And why are you doing that?”
“Because how else am I supposed to match the color of the pond?”
Another snort. “I can see why you stick to expressionism,” Vulcan teased, tracing the outline of the trees on his own canvas. “But do you see how the shade of the pond is a little off near the edges? You used colors with different undertones right next to each other, so it looks a little… weird so to speak I guess.”
Jojo stared at the bank he’d painted. Huh. “That makes sense.”
It continued like that for some time: Vulcan asking questions and guiding Jojo to the right answer as they continued to paint. The rhythm of it was easy, so to speak, and eventually Vulcan stopped asking altogether, letting silence fall between them until they had both completed their respective paintings.
“What do you think?”
Vulcan startled a little, a small, playful smile on the edges of his mouth. “I think it looks great, Jojo.”
Jojo stared at the painting for himself, compared it to Vulcan’s. Obviously, the styles were incredibly different, but when he looked between the actual landscape and what they had done, he had to admit he really liked how it had turned out. “You sure?”
Vulcan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Jojo, I’m sure.”
Jojo beamed as he began packing up. “Thanks for your help!”
“Any time, Jojo, any time.”
—
“What are you up to this time?”
Jojo didn’t look up when Inspired spoke as he continued to tap away on his phone. “Nothing. What are you doing now?”
Inspired snorted, all but tossing himself onto the couch right next to Jojo. “What do you think I’m doing right now?” he asked but he continued talking before Jojo could reply. Rude, but that was just Kacper. “I’m just wondering what you’re up to because you’re running all around campus asking for help on painting when you’re, you know.”
This time, Jojo looked up, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to dissect whatever the fuck Inspired had just said. “When I’m you know what?”
Inspired rolled his eyes back. “That wasn’t what I was asking. I was asking what you were up to.”
“I already said nothing,” Jojo said and went right back to his phone. Hm. Impact took forever to answer his DMs.
“That’s not true and you know it.” Inspired leaned in a little closer. “You’re running around campus asking for help on basic things you already know and you don’t expect me to be a little curious? Are you for real right now Jojo?”
OHHHH! Yeah, sue Jojo for running around asking for help trying to remember how to paint realistically, but in his defense he had to! How else is he supposed to make sure the painting was perfect? It was for Danny, for God's sake! Anything less than perfect would be an insult.
“I’m just trying to figure out how to paint Danny, that’s all,” he said, still scrolling through his phone as he waited for Impact to respond. Huh. He really did take a long time to respond.
It went silent for a few moments, and honestly Jojo kind of forgot Inspired was there for that amount of time. Then Inspired burst out laughing and Jojo was rudely reminded of the fact that Inspired was indeed still there.
“You’re stressing over that?” Inspired managed after he had calmed down a little before starting up again when Jojo looked at him. “Dude, you’re literally stressing over nothing. Danny’s going to like it either way, and hey, isn’t this due soon? Like, isn’t this an assignment?”
Jojo groaned, dropping his phone to his lap as he slid down the couch. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, trying his best to sink into the cushions. “I'm trying my best not to remember right now.”
Inspired started cackling. “You are stressing over nothing right now,” he said again, emphasizing each word. He bumped Jojo’s shoulder with his. “Cheer up man, you've got this. Compared to literally anything you've done before, this one is going to turn out great, I swear.”
Jojo groaned again. “Who are you and what have you done to Kacper?” he asked, butchering Inspired's real name on purpose. “I don't remember Kacper being this supportive.”
Inspired rolled his eyes. “Well forgive me for trying to make you feel better,” he said, pulling out his own phone. “I meant what I said though. Danny is going to love it and you're just stressing about nothing. Like, genuinely, what you should be worrying about is turning that project in on time.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Jojo sighed, stared up at the ceiling. “Thanks though.”
Inspired looked at him through the side of his eyes. “Of course.”
—
“Is everything okay?”
Jojo glanced over at Impact who simply blinked at him before going back to his own work. “Yeah,” he said, switching out his current brush for a different, smaller one. “Why are you asking?”
Impact huffed gently, “It’s unlike you to be this… hung up over something,” he said, placing down both his paintbrush and palette to face Jojo entirely. “Is everything okay?”
The answer, simply, was still “yeah” but if Jojo wanted a little more nuance, then it would probably be something a little more along the lines of “yeah, but I’m slowly going crazy too.” Not that Jojo would ever admit that out loud, but he could admit that to himself. Still, he appreciated Impact asking and looking after his wellbeing.
Instead, he said, “Everything is fine, just stressing about this project.”
Impact gave another amused huff. “And when was it assigned?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And when is it due?”
“A week from now.”
“And have you been working on it most of the time since then?”
Well, if running around campus and asking for help from anyone who would give it to him counted, then yes, he had been. “I think so?”
“That’s a question, not an answer, Jojo.”
“I think so.”
“That’s better.” But he wasn’t satisfied with his answers; Jojo could see in the way Impact studied him, like he wanted something more concrete.
Jojo dragged his paintbrush painstakingly slow along the canvas. “It’s for Danny.”
Impact made a face at him. “You were assigned a project, and you decided to make it about Danny?”
He didn’t face Impact. “When you put it like that, it makes it sound dumb.”
“And it isn’t?”
Impact wasn’t being mean, Jojo knew that—he was being incredibly gentle all things considered—but it was just, well. “I asked to paint Danny, he said yes, and now I’m stressing over how to make it perfect for him, so—”
“Jojo,” Impact interrupted, patient because that was how he always was when it came to his kids, “calm down.”
Jojo calmed down.
Impact gave him a fond, amused smile, like he knew something Jojo didn’t, which to be fair, he probably did. “You are going to be okay, and there is nothing to worry about,” he said, slow and careful, making sure Jojo heard each and every word loud and clear. “You will be okay, and Danny will love it.”
Jojo slumped over. “That’s what Kacper said.”
“And is he wrong?”
“No…”
Another smile. “You’ve got this, Jojo.”
—
Both Impact and Inspired were wrong, both Impact and Inspired were wrong, why did he listen to either of them, why did he listen to either of them—
“Jojo,” Danny began, holding the painting of himself in his hands, staring at it like it was the most goddamn ugly thing in the world, “this is beautiful.”
Oh.
Jojo flushed bright red. “Are you sure?”
Danny laughed, held up the piece to examine it better in the light, gave Jojo the brightest, most wonderful smile ever. “Yeah, it really is.”