1 Picking Up The Pieces [Private/No Kill] Mon Dec 05, 2016 2:54 am
Misaki
D-rank
Misaki's apartment was nothing to look at. It was located on the second story of a small, three floor building in the slums. Much like the rest of the ones in the area, it was built out of simple materials, largely resembling sand and clay. It made sense. Those were the ones most widely available in the area and therefore the best suited for low-cost living. Porous as they were, they did a terrible job of keeping the cold out at night. They would have been suited for the scorching heat of the day, but did barely anything since all of the buildings in the slums were cramped together tightly. Still, it was cheap and Misaki did his best to make it a home. With Ryuto at his side, he nervously fumbled with the keys before finally managing to open the door. He smiled, a little nervous and a little embarrassed. Not only was this the first time that the other boy came over, it was also the first time they had ever been together in private.
Misaki opened the door tentatively, not sure how Ryuto would react to the humble studio apartment. "It's... it's not much, I know," he said sheepishly. He would hold the door open for the other boy. Once he closed it, he took his shoes off before stepping on the tatami mats that made up his floor. The futon he slept in was neatly rolled in a corner, right next to a dresser. In its usual place was a low table, clearly old and worn, surrounded by a few cushions in a similar condition. If there was anything that could be said, is that the small space was kept in pristine condition. Sure, it was cluttered and often lacked the proper utilities, but the young boy made the best of it. He wasn't embarrassed, or at least he tried not to be.
What he didn't intend for Ryuto to see was the set of canvases and paintings - landscapes of Sunagakure, portraits of people he had seen around the village and even the occasional surreal and violent depiction of his nightmares. They varied in sizes and took up a large part of the apartment's space, along with the displayed easel, propped up against the window. Had he known that he would bring Ryuto here, he would have done his best to hide them somewhere - a supply closet down the hall, the bathroom, anywhere, really. Most embarrassing of all was likely the half-finished portrait of Ryuto himself, which he had been working on for the past week or so. He rushed over, nearly tripping over the furniture as he did. He would try to shield his projects, act as a barrier between them and Ryuto. "I, um- I... I-it's not finished yet," he said, clearly mortified. He had never shown his paintings or drawings to anyone - accidental or otherwise. It was just a hobby, something he used to work out stress and try to compose himself mentally. They were meant for no one but himself.
Misaki opened the door tentatively, not sure how Ryuto would react to the humble studio apartment. "It's... it's not much, I know," he said sheepishly. He would hold the door open for the other boy. Once he closed it, he took his shoes off before stepping on the tatami mats that made up his floor. The futon he slept in was neatly rolled in a corner, right next to a dresser. In its usual place was a low table, clearly old and worn, surrounded by a few cushions in a similar condition. If there was anything that could be said, is that the small space was kept in pristine condition. Sure, it was cluttered and often lacked the proper utilities, but the young boy made the best of it. He wasn't embarrassed, or at least he tried not to be.
What he didn't intend for Ryuto to see was the set of canvases and paintings - landscapes of Sunagakure, portraits of people he had seen around the village and even the occasional surreal and violent depiction of his nightmares. They varied in sizes and took up a large part of the apartment's space, along with the displayed easel, propped up against the window. Had he known that he would bring Ryuto here, he would have done his best to hide them somewhere - a supply closet down the hall, the bathroom, anywhere, really. Most embarrassing of all was likely the half-finished portrait of Ryuto himself, which he had been working on for the past week or so. He rushed over, nearly tripping over the furniture as he did. He would try to shield his projects, act as a barrier between them and Ryuto. "I, um- I... I-it's not finished yet," he said, clearly mortified. He had never shown his paintings or drawings to anyone - accidental or otherwise. It was just a hobby, something he used to work out stress and try to compose himself mentally. They were meant for no one but himself.
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