Chapter Text
Nicky isn’t quite sure how he ended up here on his free Tuesday night, but here he is, staring blankly ahead, gaze flickering between the excellent abs in display right before his eyes and the, well, attempt to do them justice on the canvas in front of him. The outlines of his sketch have been wiped out and redone so many times now it might become a smudge instead, and he’s not quite sure if the stains of coal from the pencil will ever leave his hands.
“Fifteen minutes,” the teacher calls, an encouraging smile on display as the group simultaneously sighs.
Nicky squeezes his eyes shut, then cuts a glance at Nile at his right. He’ll just blame her for this, if they bar him from participating ever again.
She’d come over earlier that evening, trying to persuade him into joining her in this class.
“Come on, Nicky! It will be fun!” she had pouted. “You won’t actually let me go all by myself? Besides, you could use a night out, to relax! Why not spend it with your dearest friend?”
Nicky had raised an eyebrow at her and then gestured to himself, already clad in his pajamas for the night, an oversized hoodie and soft flannel pants. "Don't you have other friends, who are actually in the art department?" he asked. "Besides, I've been cooking all day in prep for tomorrow, and - "
"Yes, and that's why you could use the fresh air and two hours of art to shake up your routine and clear your head! You're becoming a hermit," she had teased him.
Nicky had shifted, warming up to the idea of going out and doing something, anything else instead of worrying over his recipe the entire evening - he'd been adjusting his measurements for the last three hours and by the pitying look Nile just gave him, she'd been suspecting this. For her to come to him and drag him out without calling him out on his bullshit was a kindness only Nile was capable of - Quynh tended to be a little more direct, but not less well-meaning.
Still, his recipe had to be perfect in the morning. "I'm not sure - I'm still working on-"
"Just use your nonna's recipe and your instincts," Nile had cut him off. "You're a natural chef - you don't even like following recipes! Just do what you always do and it will be perfect!"
“I’m not even an art student,” he’d grumbled, but he had felt his resistance break at the radiant smile Nile directed at him the moment she knew he’d cave.
“You don’t have to be, it will be just for fun,” she’d promised him, herding him into his bedroom to at least change into a pair of jeans. “Keep the hoodie. Hurry up, though, it starts in 10!”
They’d been the last to arrive, running into the classroom and disturbing the other participants as they’d already started. In their haste to get to the two empty spots, Nicky hadn’t even noticed this was supposed to be a life-drawing class - he could’ve gotten away with abstract, at least - until he looked up from dumping his bag on the floor next to his stool and got an eyeful of well-defined pecs.
The male model stands in the middle of the circle, shirtless, with nothing else but a table next to him to be used as his support. His right hip is propped against the table and his right hand rests flat on the table so he leans sideways, showing off the bulging of his bicep and the flex of his stomach while his right ankle is crossed over his left, his left leg used to stand on while the tip of his right white sneaker rests easily on the ground, bearing no weight at all. His left hand is stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.
Nicky hadn’t been able to suppress the surprised yelp leaving his mouth and he’d swear he’d heard the model chuckle under his breath. Blushing and unable to bring himself to look up, feeling embarrassed, he’d resigned himself to the fate of starting with the upper body.
Now, however, with the last minutes ticking away, Nicky found he had no other choice but to work on the head and face of the model - walking out with only a stomach and chest on his canvas wasn't something Nicky was willing to do. Steeling himself, taking a deep breath, he shifts on his stool and lifts his gaze.
The first thing Nicky notices is that the model's face is incredibly handsome. Head full unruly, dark curls, a rough stubble adorning his cheeks and chin, showing off his sharp jawline. His lips are slightly curved upwards at the corners, displaying a pleasant smile and softening his features.
The second thing Nicky notices, however, are his eyes, so dark they're nearly black but they are twinkling, reflecting the lights set up around him so the artists have decent enough light to paint him. There are laughing lines around his eyes. A good sign, Nicky thinks, distractingly, that means he knows joy.
Nicky's staring, he knows he is, and he's so lost in trying to figure out how exactly his eyes are able to twinkle like that - seriously, eyes aren't supposed to do that, right? - that he doesn't notice at first that the model is staring right back at him, until almost inconspicuously one corner of his mouth raises a little and the model is smirking at him.
Nicky snaps to attention, jarred, eyes falling back to his canvas. The model has the audacity to snort, covering it quickly in a cough. A soft voice calls out to apologise to the class before he resumes his relaxed stance propped against the table.
Something coils in the pit of Nicky's stomach, hot and vicious and it simultaneously wants to make him hide, curl in upon himself and will the world to leave him alone, and to lash out, to sit up a little straighter and demand his space here.
He glances at Nile again and she must feel his stare because she looks over at him, positively beaming and giving him thumbs up in encouragement before focussing back on her work.
Nicky swallows and takes a deep breath. Just ten more minutes. He adjusts his grip on his pencil, determined to focus back on his project and not let this man have any further effect on him. He sets his pencil on the paper and internally encouraging himself, he once again lets his eyes wander to the model's face.
Who is still watching him.
Determined to ignore him, Nicky forces his hand to move across the canvas, outlining the head and putting in the outlines of the model's face. It doesn't even remotely look like the model, who keeps looking at Nicky but who's smirk has softened now into a genuine smile the longer Nicky works.
Nicky gets lost again the minute he refocuses back on the eyes, hand stilling against the canvas and it would've been more embarrassing if the teacher hadn't announced the end of the class for that evening any later than he does. Another sigh rings through the room as the other artists lay down their stuff and gather their things in order to leave. The teacher moves slowly around the room, praising several of his students and their progress and Nicky can finally look away as the teacher slides up to him.
"We haven't met before, have we? I'm pretty sure you're not in any of my classes," he says quietly to Nicky.
Nicky shakes his head and smiles politely. "No, I'm here because Nile dragged me with her tonight," he confesses. "I'm Nicky."
The teacher nods and takes a look at Nicky's canvas. "That would explain it," he says, not unkindly. "I'm James Copley, I teach at the arts faculty here. Not a bad attempt, for a first time," he tells Nicky, honest.
Nicky pulls a face and gives his end results a doubtful once-over. "I don't know about that. I'm also sorry if I crashed your lesson tonight - it won't happen again."
Copley hums. "I host these lessons once a week, for the students so they have a little extra time to practice their techniques. You were lucky tonight one student didn't show up, but I am a firm believer that art should be available to everyone. If you enjoyed yourself, I am more than willing to set up an extra place for you, next week? No need to enroll or anything."
Nicky smiles, genuine this time. "I would like that," he admits.
Copley smiles back and nods. "Welcome to the class then, Nicky. However, since you are not an art student I will leave you a bit to your own devices, seeing as this is a hobby to you and to my other students it's very much extra practice. I will of course help you out with the basics, should you want that, but when we get closer to the exams my attention will shift more to my students. That's alright with you?"
"That sounds perfect," Nicky says, feeling relieved. He just wants to enjoy being out for two hours, focussing on painting and nothing else and not being judged for it. If that means Copley won't pay him much attention, that's all the better. After all, it's just for fun.
"Great! I will see you next week, then," Copley says, before he walks over to the model, who had been shaking out his arms, rolling his shoulders back and jumping a bit on the spot to loosen up his muscles after holding still for periods of time - they'd had little breaks in between and Nicky had gratefully used those for his unending coffee supply and tracking the model with squinted eyes as he moved around the room, hands wrapped around his own mug of tea as he observed several art pieces in progress, but never veering anywhere close to Nicky, thankfully.
Nicky starts gathering his stuff, first picking up his canvas and laying it face-down on the floor before putting his thermos back in his backpack and clearing out his table, shoving the pencils he'd borrowed from Nile randomly back in his backpack when someone disturbs him. "Did you know you have the tendency to look really pissed-off when you concentrate really hard?" a voice says, amusement clear in the pitch of his voice and Nicky freezes. He closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
Oh no.
Slowly, he sits back upright, leaving his backpack on the floor, and looks up to the model who stands next to his canvas, hiding his smile behind the rim of the mug as he sips his tea, but Nicky can clearly see the amusement reflected in both his stance and his eyes.
His mouth feels dry. "I've been told that, yes," he manages to say before swallowing and ducking down his head again, clearly dismissing him.
Instead of leaving, however, the model hums quietly to himself and walks around the easel, coming to a stop next to Nicky. "Yours is the only work I haven't seen yet," he says, sounding at ease despite Nicky's less-than-forthcoming attitude. "You've been guarding your canvas closely and I didn't want to disturb you earlier."
Nicky snorts. "You're not going to either."
The model snickers and takes another sip of his tea. Nicky wishes he would go away so he can die of embarrassment in peace.
"I'm Joe," the model, Joe , says, shifting around a bit and waving at the leaving students before his attention returns to Nicky. He seems content to wait around forever and Nicky heaves a sigh, knowing he will not win this - his mind is already wandering the streets on his way home and his body is longing for a hot shower to wash away all the tension of this day.
"Nicky," he grumbles in response.
Joe smiles. "Nice to meet you," he says, and he sounds sincere. Nicky avoids looking at him, searching among the last of the students for Nile - he is going to kill her. Nile, however, is still very much in discussion with Copley, discussing her drawing of Joe.
No reinforcements coming in from that side, then. Nicky chews on his bottom lip for a bit while the silence between them gets heavy.
"I'm not showing you," Nicky spits out when it becomes too heavy to bear, looking back at Joe.
Joe, for his part, must've been daydreaming or something while finishing his tea, because he all but startles before he visibly relaxes, shooting Nicky an easy smile. "Then don't," he answers. "Although I would very much like to see it. I'm curious like that," he shrugs, apologetic.
"Why?"
Joe shifts, a pensive look on his face. "It's a bit narcissistic, I guess? I've been the subject of this evening, and I guess I would just like to see what everyone, well, made of me? I know that doesn't really make sense." Joe smiles a bit self-deprecatingly at that. "It's like taking a picture - don't you want to see how you look if someone snaps a photo of you?"
Nicky sighs, again, and rubs his hand over his forehead. It does make sense and if he's being honest, in Joe's position he would like to see the paintings too. It doesn't help that Joe is willing to wait with him while Nile wraps up, even if he doesn't know he's actually waiting for her. He's incredibly nice so far.
It really isn't fair.
"Fine," Nicky says, admitting defeat. "It isn't good, though," he warns, as he gets up from his stool to bend down, grabbing his canvas.
"I'm sure it's fine," Joe says behind him and Nicky snorts.
"It really isn't. Don't you dare laugh at me," he warns viciously.
"I would never," is the reply and if it didn't sound so incredibly sincere, Nicky would have changed his mind.
Already regretting every life choice that got him to this very moment, Nicky turns around, holding the canvas so Joe can look at it.
Absolute silence.
Joe's eyes rove over the canvas, his face carefully blank but his fingers thrum against the mug still in his hands. He opens his mouth a few times, then closes it again. Tilts his head a few times too, this way and that and Nicky wishes someone would take pity on him and strike him down this very moment. It's horrible.
Joe has started to bite on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to suppress his laughter. Nicky isn't sure if he wants to lean in to kiss him or to let his fist connect with the side of Joe's jaw. The vicious thing in the pit of his stomach is back with a vengeance, leaving Nicky unsure of what to do. The urge to lash out grows with each passing second.
"No wonder you're in this class," Joe mumbles at last, then looks shocked that he said that out loud. Nicky scoffs, shooting him a furious look and turning away, grabbing his backpack from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. His canvas he tugs under his arm, protective.
Which, okay, might be a bit exaggerated. Nicky himself could see his art was absolutely shit, thank you very much. He just hadn't expected that the model would make fun of him on top of it.
A hand wraps itself around his bicep. "No, wait, I didn't mean to -" Joe rushes, gently nudging Nicky to turn back. "It - has potential? I like what you did with the eyes?"
"They're cartoon eyes," Nicky deadpans, shrugging off Joe's hand. The place he held feels hot and Nicky has to resist the urge to scratch it away.
"I like cartoons," Joe offers immediately, looking guilty and miserable. "Please come back next week, I'd hate to be the reason you would want to drop out of this class."
Before Nicky has time to respond (what does he mean, drop out?) Nile slides up to them, a slight spring in her step. "Are you ready to go?" she asks, glancing curiously between them.
"Yes," Nicky says, relieved to finally be able to leave. Turning back to Joe, he asks, "you're modelling next week too?"
Joe looks relieved. "Yes, I am the model for the next two months, actually. Could use the money," he explains.
Nicky nods. "Right. Well, I guess I'll see you next week. I will try to not fuck you up this badly again," he sneers, feeling petty. It would feel good if it wasn't for the hope flaring up in Joe's eyes at his mention of coming back the next week.
Turning away, he follows Nile to the door, but before he can make it out Joe has called out after him. "If you want help, I'm more than willing to teach you," he shouts.
Nicky looks back, a little disbelieving. "What?"
Joe jogs up to him, mug abandoned on the table in the middle of the classroom. Instead, he holds his phone in his hands. "I wasn't joking when I said it has potential," Joe rambles as he unlocks his phone, "you just need to practice a little more. I'm in my last year, actually. More than willing to help you with working on your technique. At least, if you want to?" The smile on his face is a little hopeful as Joe hands over his phone, the contact section opened and ready to be filled in.
Nicky opens his mouth to decline, but Nile beats him to it, cutting him a glance that reads are you insane?!
"He'd love that!" She jabs him with her elbow in his side for good measure.
Feeling cornered, Nicky tries to smile back. "Sure."
He types in his contact info and hands Joe his phone back. Joe gives him a full smile this time, making his eyes crinkle. "I'll text you," he promises, before he turns back into the classroom, helping Copley with setting up for the next morning.
Nile snakes her hand through his arm and tugs him along. "The very definition of Bambi-eyes," she says, dreamily.
"If you say so," Nicky answers, shrugging, tugging her securely into his side.
She shakes her head at him. "I can't believe you were about to reject him."
"It's not a date, Nile," Nicky sighs. "He saw my art was shit and is willing to help. Not that I need him to, anyway. It's not like I want to make a career out of this."
"It's not a date yet," Nile says, teasingly. "But you enjoyed yourself, yes? And that's what matters. Join me next week, and if you still think you don't need Bambi to help you with your art, you can always decline him for lessons and ask him out to dinner instead."
"Am not asking him out to dinner either," Nicky says. "He made fun of my art."
Nile snorts. "And you wonder why? Nicky, it's terrible. Where the hell are his nipples?"
Scoffing, he pushes Nile away, making her laugh loudly. "You are a terrible friend," Nicky whines at her.
"I am your best friend," she corrects him as she retakes his arm when they step out of the building into the cool autumn air. "You'll thank me later, when you get a cute boyfriend out of all this."
"I doubt it."