100 Theme Challenge

Perfection

"Furuichi? Please open the door."

"Go away!"

Oga pushed up his bangs and called for Natsuki. "Yes sir. How may I be of service?"

"Natsuki if you could find the key-"

"I have the key! Now. Go. Away!"

"Well, we could always break the door down."

"Sir, that would be unwise."

"What do you mean 'break the door down'? Are you insane!"

Oga wondered if that was such a wrong thing to ask for. He wanted the young artist to come out of his room. Was it such a rash idea to want to break the door down if the inhabitant refuses to leave said room and has the key to open it?

"If I may, sir."

"Speak." Oga sighed as he leaned against the sturdy oak door. He'd never been refused before, especially when invitations to someone's bedroom were involved. "Perhaps some chamomile tea would do some good for you both. I could bring some up to your study."

"...Fine."

Oga sulked in his study as Furuichi sulked in his room. Natsuki managed to get Furuichi to open his door to accept some nice, warm tea after convincing the silvernette that he was, indeed, alone. Furuichi's eyes were red and puffy. His nose rubbed raw and the usually pleasant voice now nasally and congested. "Would you like something to eat?"

Furuichi bunched up his shoulders and didn't quite look at the handsome butler in the eye. Furuichi hadn't gotten used to having someone else do things, like cook meals, for him. The silvernette didn't think he'd ever get used to it. "A soup would be nice, I guess. Thanks."

"I will be back up in twenty minutes."

The door shut, and it was time to bring the master his tea. Natsuki liked Furuichi. He liked how refreshingly different the silvernette was compared to Oga's usual company. Natsuki thought Oga liked this partner a lot more too since he actually cared to check on Furuichi's well being. Usually when his partners were upset, Oga would ignore them until they were ready "to be fun again" per his master's words. Natsuki didn't knock, but nearly stumbled in the sudden darkness of Oga's study. Perhaps the master is more in love with Furuichi than I thought. Oga hated darkness since childhood, though many claimed he was better suited for it.

"How is he?"

"He has requested soup."

"Natsuki." Oga had always been kind to his servants, but Natsuki tested him the most.

"My apologies. Master Furuichi is still unwell. He has been crying heavily since being in his room."

Oga grunted, flicked his hand and went back to his thoughts.

As Natsuki left, he thought some soup would do the master some good too.

...

"Furuichi please. Open this door."

"I'm not ready yet. Go away please."

Oga grit his teeth, squeezed his left hand into a fist and thought to beat the door down himself. "Fine then. I'll speak through the door. I know those poor excuses of articles upset you. I know that you never put out your work into the world until it's perfect to you. I know that it might be something that others don't understand. But I do."

Oga hung by the door for several minutes, hoping the burned artist would let him in. The brunet was just about to leave when he heard slow shuffling toward the door. "...What do you understand? Everything you do is perfect."

"Open this door and I'll tell you."

Furuichi's hand wavered over the door lock. Oga was baiting him, and Furuichi was only going to end up a sucker if he opened the door. Really now, what did the rich man know about being criticized about his life's work? What did Oga know about countless art shows with nothing to show for it? What did the brunet know of hiding in the bathroom stalls because the whispering critics buzzed in his ears? What could Oga possibly know about the nights Furuichi wept into the concrete floor of his apartment because nobody understood what he was making?

"I'm not making this about me Furuichi. I can't say that I understand all of your heartache, but I can say that I understand your work."

It took another moment before Furuichi opened the door to peer at Oga with red, puffy eyes, "You do?"

Oga stuck a hand gently beneath Furuichi's quivering chin. Speaking in a near whisper, Oga said, "I understand that you value your work. And I understand that you paint with your emotions. It's cathartic to you to paint. Just because someone out there doesn't understand, doesn't mean there aren't others who feel what you feel when brushing the canvas."

"But do you really understand?"

Furuichi needed to know. If this was going to work between them, Furuichi needed to know that Oga could be trusted with his life's work, and his heart.

"The last painting. They're the same waves from the first restaurant I took you too. Your strokes are hesitant. Shy. Yet the colors are quietly hopeful. As if you could see the potential of where things are going, or could go. Isn't that right?"

Furuichi made a watery, strangled cry from his throat and wrapped greedy arms around the man who, finally, understood him.