“You’d do so well if you entered,” his art supervisor insisted, steepling her fingers together on her desk like a villain plotting world domination. “Prestigious companies often scout talent at exhibitions like these. Graduation may still be a year away, but you need to think about what comes after, and this is a wonderful opportunity!”

“I’m neither deaf nor stupid,” Daichi drawled, reclining in his chair and spinning in slow circles. “I want to cruise through my final year, and I’ve nothing to prove.”

“Nothing to –? Daichi!” she whined. “This project doesn’t even have to be complicated. Pick some themes. The board still has to approve it anyway, and they won’t unless it’s utterly phenomenal.”

“So the worst they’ll say is yes?”

“You’ll have the whole semester to complete it!”

“Sign my form and let me go,” Daichi sighed. “You’ve been holding it hostage for twenty minutes, and my time is valuable.”

“No, it isn’t. Other than a few minor mark-ups on your sculpture, you’re a free man.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

She outright glared at him. “Is it because you don’t have a muse?”

“I’ve never had one.”

“That’s not strictly true. Recall: the Angel.” Then she nodded sagely. “Other than him, whenever you sculpt people, you tend to decapitate them. This time, find a muse with a nice face.”

Daichi raised a finger. “I didn’t say I was doing it.” Then raised another. “And now I have to find someone repulsively ugly.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“See what? The non-existent piece I won’t be making?”

“Exactly that. Have a sketch on my desk soon. I’m looking forward to it!” She signed his form with a flourish, barely finishing it before he swiped it and strode out.

When Daichi dashed passed the workbenches, Erik glanced up from his painting. “Hey, want me to pose for you again? I can pose nude.”

Daichi’s mouth curled. “I don’t want to go blind, man.”

“Then why not sculpt the Angel again? You’d win for sure.”

“Never again. They put that statue outside the museum like he’s some Adonis. I refuse to hear another compliment about the ‘beauty of Surya’s face’. Compliment me on my beauty.”

“Not your talent?” Erik asked.

“That’s undeniable. My stature was put outside an art museum for God’s sake.”

“I,” Erik stammered. “You’re hurting my head. Go away now.”

Daichi grabbed his pack of cigarettes and headed outside for a smoke. He navigated the cluttered studio, avoiding paint pots, pencil shavings, and stray carving tools. Then cold air bit at his skin as he leant against the railing, watching the parking lot below. He pulled out his phone and dialled Surya.

The instant it connected, he sighed. “No one understands me.”

That earned a gentle huff of laughter. “Oh, you poor, misunderstood artist. Is this your villain origin story?”

“No, that was when Nugget told me I was going bald.” He gingerly touched his hair. “And you? How’s your day been?”

A pause followed, heavier than usual, and Daichi’s brow furrowed.

“Well,” Surya admitted on a sigh. “I was a bit immature.”

“Couldn’t be that bad. You’re a saint.”

“I threatened him. One of the babies.”

Well, that was a first.

Daichi tilted his head, intrigued. “Who? Akira?”

“Mn,” Surya confirmed. “I either have dementia, or someone ignored my first choice of mentees.”

“I was hoping I’d get him.”

Surya decided to ignore that in favour of more complaining. “He’s flunking his tests, Daichi, and I mean really flunking them. Then he continues to sleep through my lessons, can you believe it? It’s insulting.”

“He’s pretty airheaded,” he agreed.

“That’s all you have to say?” Surya’s scowl was practically audible. “I gave him the benefit of the doubt, I really did. Maybe he’s still settling into his first year, maybe he’s got narcolepsy, but the kid’s covered in hickeys, as if parading his priorities. He’d rather spend his energy doing that than reading one paragraph of my course.”

Daichi laughed, deeply amused. “So how’d you threaten him?”

“Well, basketball is off the table if his grades don’t improve.”

He nearly choked on his cigarette, coughing through his laughter. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious.” He wasn’t even surprised that Surya went straight for the jugular. “You didn’t hold back at all.”

“I swear, stop laughing,” Surya hissed, his voice sharp and clipped. “I actually want to help him do well, but he was so belligerent about his own studies that I tried to force him to take them seriously. What if he doesn’t return to class out of spite?”

They both paused, already knowing the answer to that one.

Surya sighed. “Well, okay, he will when his basketball is on the line.”

“If you’re feeling that guilty, give him chocolate or something next time you see him,” Daichi suggested.

A groan sounded in his ear. “You’re worse than me.”

“Well, we know he’s not entirely belligerent about his studies. Otherwise, he wouldn’t still be attending class, would he?” He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of it. “You should try talking to him about it.”

“With some chocolate?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

“He could be allergic to it,” Surya pointed out dryly.

“Then that’d solve the problem of having to talk to him again.” He grinned as Surya’s laughter crackled in his ear.

It wasn’t every day someone bothered Surya this much. He wielded his chilling politeness like a shield, fooling people into thinking he was thoughtful and kind when, in truth, he wasn’t considering them at all.

Oh, how Surya despised losing his composure. He was always on edge, always fighting to do everything well, to maintain his perfect image. It was like watching a child, one who could tie their own shoes and dress themselves alone, yet couldn’t understand why the buttons of their shirt were misaligned nor how to fix it. He probably didn’t realise that there was anything wrong at all.

Daichi always found that to be such a shame.

Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing that Surya’s persona had cracked today. It could be his chance to learn that he didn’t have to be flawless to be liked, that it wasn’t the end of the world if someone saw his ruthless, petty side. And Akira, with his endearing clumsiness and sincerity, might just be the one to teach him.

First, though, Surya needed to apologise.

Erik stepped out of the studio with perfect timing, and Daichi glanced at him. Sunlight caught the glint of Daichi’s rings as he casually hooked an arm around his friend, startling him.

“Actually,” Daichi mused, “the Little Bears have a practice match tonight. It’s not technically open to everyone, but we could get in if we pretend we’re covering for the newsletter.”

Poor Erik groaned, already dreading the idea. “Then you have to draw something for it.”

Surya’s reluctance was palpable, and normally, Daichi wouldn’t care if he offended someone, but this was different. Daichi found Akira’s little crush amusing enough, and all the better if Akira taught Surya to loosen up a little.

“Come on, are we going or not?” Daichi pressed.

Surya mumbled. “Fine. I’ll meet you at the gym.”

Daichi’s satisfied grin made Erik shrink under his arm, but he just hummed, “Practice your apology speech on the way.”