Just two authors providing you guys with anime imagines and one shots, but PLOT TWIST, you get to suggest what we write...
so please comment what you want to see :)
I stared blankly at the canvas in front of me. It was a painting of a man dressed in an all black yukata, walking hand in hand, staring at adoration to the women at his right, wearing an all white kimono. They were both walking in the snow, to a path to a "love suicide." I almost let out a huge scoff, making it harder and harder to suppress myself. I always found the idea of love useless. I knew the concept of love, and loving another, but I never really understood the chase, or the run ,or whatever you call it. I don't have time to put my head in the clouds, nor do I want this feeling of someone waiting for me.
I started to question why I was even here, in the Museum of Love, and why I was spontaneous enough to take a trip to Paris. At the end of the day love holds you back. I shifted my attention to this hot babe. (Hey I mean, I do hate love, but I can't hate chicks ;) ). I subtly tried to shift towards her, hoping that she wouldn't notice as her eyes were focused on the painting. But I think she got the hint, as she met her eyes with mine. I stood "tall", giving her a slight smirk.
Y/N POV
Looking at the painting, I stared in admiration of its beauty. It was beautiful, looking at the couple, walking hand and hand together, following the path of love suicide. Despite the tragedy and grief of loss, this painting had really shown another aspect of death do us part. Looking at the fine strokes of the lady in the kimono and the light paint polishing the canvas, I sigh wishing I had the brilliance and artistry to create a masterpiece of this on my own. However, my eyes quickly diverted as I sensed a figure coming closer and closer to me. He sent me a smirk, causing me to respond with a warm smile.
"Hey... I'm Y/N" I say as he continues to approach.
"Nishinoya," he responds. So he's Japanese? I ask myself. Disregarding the small talk, I attempt to divert the conversation to the art.
"It's beautiful isn't it?" I asked, expecting him to agree to my statement.
He let out a tsk, almost startling me. "But not as beautiful as you" he responded with a bigger smile. Ummm.... What?
I let out a scof, continuing to look at the painting once more. But once again, he speaks up, "but in all honesty, although I must admit the artist must have a great talent for painting, this concept is simply just stupid." Ummm... ok this bitch is definitely crazy.
"Excuse me?" I raised my voice in a defensive tone. How could he have disrespected such a masterpiece.
"Well to put it simply, love is just... dumb"
...
...
...
Huh? I scoff at his words, "Well if that's true, then why are you even here, in the Museum of Love? And why are you even in Paris, the city of Love?" I look at him, waiting for a reasonable response, yet he simply just shrugs. BrUh. But then he finally speaks up,
