Asphyxiation

Stains Left Upon His Skin - 5

Noboru's return to the art classroom was nearly invisible. He had completed the task Mr. Ota had left him. In fact, he had wasted very little time in loading the cart Mr. Ota had brought outside the storage building with clay, and wheeled it to the second classroom. There, he unburdened it and placed the organic, wet mass of gray material in a neat line of forty-pound stacks. After this brief chore, Noboru rubbed the chalky residue off on his pants and entered the primary art classroom on silent feet. His eyes darted only once to a certain (h/c) boy, noting idly that Y/n had returned to his own canvas instead of slaving over Kana's uninspired work.

Noboru's intention was to settle in his usual seat and begin an entirely new sketch. A strange inspiration was catching at the edge of his attention, one that felt dangerous. As Noboru settled and retrieved a new sketchbook from his bag, his charcoal began working over the first page. There were harsh, black lines dragged through soft thin paper. He rubbed it with a thumb, shading the beginning of a forelimb. Kana's injury on the forefront of his mind.

It was not that he favored brutality; Noboru found genres of gore and grit tasteless. But there was something in the execution of her injury that resembled a subtle perfection. It was similar to the fantasies of before. A brief calculation of actions, and she could be blamed for her own pain; of her own death, if Noboru was clever enough — and wasn't that thought inflaming.

It was then — as he was mindlessly stroking the start of a two-minute brainstorming sketch — the back of Noboru's neck prickled.

The boy glanced up, surveying his surroundings briefly. Although he sensed someone's stare, he couldn't immediately pinpoint the culprit. His fellow peers had loosened up at the absence of their teacher. While some remained diligently working, a lot were clumped together conversing boisterously with their friends. A lanky boy with blond hair bellowed out a laugh before threatening to ruin his friend's canvas with a paint-soaked finger.

Noboru's brows furrowed and he returned to his sketch. There, he continued to darken the shade of Kana's swelling bruise. A lot of internal bleeding just beneath her skin, an injury that was likely superficial, but spoke of a shallow contusion around her knuckles. Noboru had never shaded a bruise before; its unusual shape looked almost awkward captured in a charcoal sketch. He dragged an eraser through the lower half of it and re-shaded —

Noboru glanced up in time to meet (e/c) eyes. Noboru blinked, feeling stunned and abruptly out of his depth. His stained thumb slid off course, ruining the image before it had truly begun to take its final shape. His breath quivered.

There Y/n was, the way he stared at Noboru felt disproportionately casual. His cheek was leant into his fist, helping his neck twist at a steep angle so he could actually look back at Noboru. The (h/c) boy blinked slowly at him, a minute movement of his cheek told Noboru Y/n was gnawing at it internally. Y/n glanced away briefly, running his eyes along the space between their tables before his eyes shockingly focused once more on Noboru's. Noboru felt his mind move further off balance, fingers twitching uncertainly around his sketchbook. He dragged an idle thumb over the page, not even looking at it; likely ruining it further. Y/n was staring at him.

Noboru's mind raced, his skin heating up. Why —? Why is Y/n —? His heart thumped traitorously in his chest.

He wasn't — Noboru wouldn't ever be used to Y/n's attention on him. It felt so out of place, especially with how long Noboru had been sketching him, observing him; noticing him. It seemed the observer had forgotten he was a participant in his own environment and the subjects of his art could stare back at him.

Noboru could do nothing else but return his stare, as if paralyzed by the hypnotic notes produced by these instruments of circumstance. He jolted a little as he saw Y/n's hand curl underneath his chair and the other boy drag his seat over to Noboru's table. He could hear the metal feet scratch over the tile, but Y/n was not stopping.