paint the stars || scömìche

Introduction

    Scott Hoying was by no means the world's leading expert on the healthy way of living. However, even he could see that his lifestyle was probably not advantageous to his longterm physical wellness.

    Surrounded by cartons of week-old Chinese takeout, well-used art supplies, and laundry that wafted a variety of suspicious scents, Scott could only glare at the ceiling of his dorm before heaving himself off the linoleum floor to get ready for class. Cursing himself for thinking it wise to choose a 7AM class on a Monday, Scott could only grunt as he maneuvered around his room, pulling on the least-worn clothes and brushing back his hair with a bit of water. As soon as he deemed himself mildly presentable, Scott moved to pour himself a cup of chilled coffee from the night before before proceeding to leave the hellhole that was his single-occupant, university abode.

    As the air was quite chilly on that fine, New York morning, Scott pulled his coat tightly around him and adjusted his messenger bag so he could comfortably sip his shit-flavored coffee as he briskly walked to Advanced Figure Drawing  in the Wellington Building. Conveniently, it happened to be located on the other side of campus.

    Glancing at his watch and realizing that there was no way he would make it on time, Scott broke out into a frantic sprint before crashing into another student in a frenzy of papers and spilled coffee.

    "Holy shit, I'm so sorry about that! I didn't even see you there. Here, let me help you collect your papers. Oh my god! I spilled coffee all over your nice sweater," Scott babbled as he used the papers crumpled in his hand to staunch the spreading stain on the other's clothes.

   The other, in this case, was Mitch Grassi, a transfer student who had been invited to the NYC Institute of Art for modeling  and design. As one who would go to all lengths in order to avoid confrontation and conflict, all Mitch could do was stand in place, petrified, as the blonde giant (seriously) who had bumped into him spoke incoherently while rubbing his application papers all over his attire.

    Quickly shaking off his initial distress at being barreled into, Mitch immediately moved to rip the filthy papers out of the ridiculously tall man's hands, desperately trying to straighten them out. "I'm so sorry! Did I destroy your papers too? I'm really sorry about that. All of my friends call me a klutz and I really am, I assure you. Oh, my name is Scott, by the way," the blonde giant, Scott, informed him, looking more flustered by the second.

    Staring blankly at him, Mitch could only blink for the minute it to took to process all of the words Scott had spewed before turning and rushing to the building he was meant to be in, roughly five minutes before the accident.

    "Hey, you're going this direction," Scott affirmed, "Me too! We can walk together until our paths split up."

Admonishing his ill luck, Mitch tightly nodded at the overtly excited man-child beside him and continued to run towards the Wellington Building, where he was meant to pose for a figure-drawing class at 7AM. He would undoubtedly be late.

    "Wow, you're headed into the same class I am! How coincidental. Are you a new figure-drawing student? I mean, this advanced class isn't too big and I would recognize you had I seen you before," Scott said, frowning when Mitch continued to ignore him.

    When they finally entered the classroom, Scott continued to clatter about, to the chagrin of the professor, and sat at one of the easels to the front. As he prepared his canvas for the day's lesson, Scott was surprised to note that instead of following him, Mitch had turned to speak quietly to the professor before being handed a white robe.

    Unable to ponder for long, Scott was forced to pay attention to the professor as the aged man explained what the class would be doing for the next hour. Rather than replicating other paintings, the class would instead be painting live, nude figures who would pose for them at the front of the class.

    Scott was excited to say the least.
   
    He had always been captivated by the various parts that made up the human body and was enticed at the idea of being able to behold a still, breathing figure laid before him to paint. Of course, it would not be sexual whatsoever. The human body in this light and environment was art and Scott adored it all the more through the eyes of a genuine artist.

    After intently listening to the crucial advice provided by his professor, Scott prepped his brush and palette and waited patiently for the model to enter the room from the connected dressing area, sucking in a deep breath when Mitch slowly opened the door and glided out, donning a crisp, white robe. While the professor introduced the young man as Mitchell Grassi, the model for the period, Scott was quickly intrigued by the almost calm atmosphere that surrounded the boy who had, only a few minutes previous, been so nervous and anxious at the prospect of speaking to him and looking him in the eye.

    Or at least that was what he had been intrigued by before Mitch began to languidly remove his covering, setting it on the floor and laying across the cleared desk in the front of the class. In the background, Scott could vaguely hear his professor tell the class that they had an hour to paint Mitch to the best of their abilities. However, at that moment, all Scott could focus on was the sound of rushing blood in his ears and the prime example of divine perfection in front of him.

    Without any consultation with the rest of his consciousness, Scott began to draw. He drew the smooth curves that made up Mitch's limbs, the stark contrast of the tattoos that lined Mitch's skin, the small birthmarks that dotted his torso, and the peaceful expression that adorned the model's face as he laid in what seemed to be his prime environment like a young maiden set for sacrifice to some obscure God.

    Before he knew it, the hour had passed and Scott's masterpiece was nearly complete. He was enraptured by his canvas. The blend of colors that melded together to create what was an inadequate copy of Mitch's figure still caused Scott's heart to thud deeply in his chest and he was startled when the professor loudly announced the class' dismissal.

    Unable to leave his seat, Scott watched, dazed, as the students began to pour out in troves from the classroom, murmuring to each other about meaningless topics as he was still unable to form a coherent thought. It was only when he realized that he was one of the only students left in the room, that Scott was able to jerk himself off his seat before rushing to the front where Mitch had redressed and was packing his bag.

    "Hey! It's me again. Wow, I'm really making this awkward. Look, I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to inconvenience you this morning. I'd love to make it up to you by buying you a coffee or something, if you want of course! Would you like to head over to Mandy's Café with me right now? I don't have a class scheduled and if you're free that would be great," Scott prattled anxiously.

    Still relaxed by the therapeutic hour he spent posing for the class of almost-reverent college students, Mitch softly smiled at the addled boy in front of him and graced him with a nod, watching the way Scott immediately beamed and rushed to grab his stuff as well as Mitch's bag before guiding them both into the throng of students in the hall.

Author's Note:
Hey! Thank you for taking the time to read the introductory chapter to this new scömìche fan fiction. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think. This fanfic will most likely be updating every week and I can't wait to hear from you next update!

Also, you can check out my scömìche account on twitter: @ ptxscomicheidk . Only if you want though! Sorry for the shameless self-promo.