artistsanjun:

He couldn’t help but smile not because he was glad that the other man was frustrated with Italian but because there was something endearing about the way he acted. Jun had never been a normal man and the things that people turned away from he liked to embrace. Even if their outer exterior looked like Neo’s and even if he acted a bit standoffish he was still attracted to the man.

“I think it’s ‘olio’. It means oil.” He had already turned in his menu so he couldn’t check to make sure. “I haven’t heard of the word ‘oglio.’” though his Italian was horrendous so he could be wrong. He had been to Italy for school when he was in University but his Italian had never been good and after all these years the only things he remembered were how to order food and some random words.

Jun looks out the window as Neo orders his food, turning to look at him he realizes that the waitress had left. He might seem a bit rude but he wasn’t trying to be. He just couldn’t help but get distracted especially right now as he sat next to the window. People passed by in a hurry and he couldn’t help his curiosity. What was that man in a hurry to get to? Were the couples holding hands as happy as they looked? People were very interesting things and he wanted to understand all of them. What made them tick, yet everyone was different. The man across from him, he turned his head to look at him, was unlike anyone he had ever met and he liked it. He was absolutely fascinated by him but, there was always a but, would he eventually get tired of him. At this moment he doubted it.

Perhaps this time the other would get tired of him.

He was a very simple man with simple needs; at least that was what he liked to think. He did things when he wanted to, acted the way he wanted to because well why not?

“Mhm…” Breaking from his thoughts, he gave him a small smile. “I’m not great with alcohol so I usually stick with wine. If I am having a really bad day I go straight for the vodka though.” He had only gotten really drunk about four or five times all for perfectly good reasons, at least at the time they were.

Looking out the window again he looked up at the sky, “No, not really. Planets fascinate me…galaxies and stars. Everything about the sky is interesting to me but I have never actually thought about it. He felt himself go a bit red as he remembered, “Don’t laugh but I think the name of the constellation is ‘Lepus.’ It’s just very cute and I also like ‘Canis Major,’ but perhaps that’s just me liking animals.” He laughed as he thanked the waitress as she dropped off their drinks.

“What about you? What is your favorite constellation?” Jun had assumed since he asked the question that he liked the sky since usually people didn’t ask that. 

Not very good with alcohol? Neo’s lips twitch into an amused smile at the idea of an inebriated Jun almost immediately after that point is raised. Now he’s sorely tempted to get him drunk, but that’d be a little cruel, and he wants the guy to like him at least a little bit. The almost sadistic amusement turns into genuine intrigue, however, when Jun begins to speak about the heavenly bodies Neo’s so quietly interested by. He doesn’t laugh, just like the artist across him doesn’t want him to, but he has to remember this as well.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking animals,” he rounds off, just as he takes his iced tea from Sayaka and gives her a quiet thanks. Neo expects the question that the other man shoots off, so he’s not so thrown off, and he has an answer ready a split-second after he asks. “Orion. Well–” He makes a brief waving gesture with his hand. “–the belt’s my favourite part of him, if we’re going for specificity, but Orion in his entirety is a good enough answer.”

He takes a large sip out of his drink, easily reducing it to only half the original amount. His index finger traces the rim of the glass interestedly, his gaze shifting from the liquid to the man across from him.

“Pretty as the constellation is—and awesome as it is, what with it being made mostly of blue, superhot stars—it’s more out of respect for the guy that I like Orion than some aesthetic reason.” Neo’s expression softens the slightest bit, like he’s recalling some fond memory, but the experience in itself is fragmented and faded in his head, awash with faint crackles of transmission static. He can remember a fond brush of his fingers over pages, and the fact that the words had been written in a calligraphy style of the older times of history, but he can’t remember where, or why, or how. All he can really recall in vivid detail are the feelings, and boy were they feelings.

He’d been happy, then. He can remember that with a startling sort of clarity. The simple, unexplainable happiness is the only thing that remains of that little touch against paper aside from the brief image itself. At some point, however, he can remember being sad immediately after… thoughtful, pensive. For some reason, the story can build itself in his head with each tiny detail intact; it plays in the theatre of his mind like he’d seen it unfold before his very eyes. Neo smiles a bit before ducking his head in a manner that’s more down to earth than anything else he’s done so far, and the expression of his face holds a human type of warmth.

“It’s a good story,” he says, and the silent confidence with which the statement is reinforced makes it sound like it can’t be anything but the truth. “I don’t know if you’re interested in any of that stuff, though, so I’ll hold myself back.

“If you had the chance, though,” Neo begins; his pose returns to that nonchalant, easy stance as his elbow touches the surface of the tablecloth, “would you want to navigate those stars?”

His hand shifts to find purchase on his cheek, azure hues glittering with unspoken interest, and he pays attention to the way the faded candlelight adds colour to the planes of Jun’s face and the lines of his cheekbones. “Have you ever wanted to disappear, mon cherí?”

artistsanjun:

Jun was definitely losing in their little game but he didn’t mind, he was actually enjoying just playing. A smile tugged at his lips, amused at his comment.  A shiver running down his spine again as Neo whispered into his ear, it seemed as if his body enjoyed the closeness. Even if Jun was losing though he was not going down without getting in a few hits however weak they may be. His smile turned into a mischievous grin, “Then I will make sure to be ‘extra’ appreciative,” he purred into his ear before hovering over the nape of his neck, his lips ghosting over his skin before pulling away.

He couldn’t help the stupid smile that appeared on his face; turning away he relaxed a bit as he felt the reassuring touch from Neo. “It really wouldn’t have mattered, would it? I mean we could have gone to eat from a side cart and I would have been glad with that.”

Walking into the dining area Jun pulls his hand away from Neo’s not exactly because he wants to but because they have to sit down. The restaurant is just like he remembered, it’s relaxing and the seats that they had been given had been by the window which was probably the best. Looking out the window he looked at the view, it was very beautiful.

Turning to the menu he ran his eyes through it. As the waitress came up to them he flashed her a small smile making sure to remember her name. Looking across he noticed him doing the same thing and he gave him a smile before choosing what he was going to order.

“It seems we have the same idea. Iced tea and well the pasta is good in this place. I’m thinking the lasagna.” Putting down the menu, he rested his head on his hands as he looked at the man across from him to decide on his order. Seeing the waitress coming back he decided to give his order first in order to give him a bit more time.  

Lasagna? At Jun’s declaration, Neo flips through the menu until he sees a picture Oh. That looks delicious. Maybe he’ll consider Italy once he’s done with Japan, though he imagines his blatant inability to speak even a drop of Italian may hinder than goal considerably. It’s a possibility, though, and he looks at the list of pastas and tries not to feel too overwhelmed ar all the fancy names. He’s not sure why they have to make all these noodles sound so difficult, though he imagines most people may find French menus to be the same.

“Oglio,” he pronounces, tongue curling at the ‘L’ sound. “What the hell is an 'oglio’?”

Ultimately he goes with white pasta–a fettucine alfredo, nice salmon bits included and all. He gives this order with a brief gesture to the name and a charming smile, and when he says 'thank you Sayaka’, he sees the way she brightens up at someone remembering her name. Neo believes very firmly in treating the waiting staff right; the more they like him, the less likely they are to put spit in his soup. Or, well, noodles. But it’s the same concept.

As she leaves, his eyes flicker briefly to the candle between them (wow, a candle), before lifting to find Jun’s face again, framed by soft orange light and the curls of his hair. Neo’s ears fill with the ambient music that plays, and with a languid movement his elbow rests on the table, hand propping his cheek up as he watches the other man with interest. Jun hasn’t really done anything, that much is obvious, but Neo wants to figure him out.

It appears to be simple at first, the concept of deciphering another human being, but it truly isn’t. Jun is an artist who gets excited over things; Neo knows that much. He knows his favourite colour. What fruit he likes best. That he wants to drink iced tea.

The curiosity is a little deeper than that, though, and Neo also knows that if he ever were to satisfy it, it would only be through asking questions that won’t give him direct answers. A smile curves on his lips, handsome and rugged with the addition of the scar across his face, and he taps three fingers on his cheekbone.

“I forgot to ask what alcohol you wanted,” he remarks. “And also, for the sake of my poor brain, do you have any favourite constellations?”

artistsanjun:

There was a very nice restaurant close to his home that he really wanted to take him to. It was slightly fancy but not fancy enough to the point where they had to be wearing a suit and a tie. Now that they are closer to the restaurant he has finally time to think and realize what is going on. Neo’s hands were rough and calloused and big and he didn’t mind them at all. He actually liked the way they felt as they enveloped his smaller hands.

Neo was definitely keeping up with him and he was glad since it made him feel as if he wanted to have dinner as much as he did well hopefully it wasn’t just because he was hungry. Slowing down as they neared the place he turned to look at him as he spoke. His eyebrow rising a bit in slight surprise since he did look like a foreigner yet his Japanese was so precise.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, his body shivering as Neo whispered into his ear. He could feel the warmth of his breath and hear the slight teasing in his voice. His face turned a light shade of pink. Jun wouldn’t really mind it if he spoke to him more in French even if he didn’t understand it a lot. Licking his bottom lip he looked away feeling as if he had been outmatched. He couldn’t really tease him back since he doubted he could have the same effect on the man that he was having on him.

As their fingers intertwined he squeezed his hand back lightly, his heart beating loudly into his ears. “Umm…the restaurant is right here.” Stopping in front of the place he stood slightly awkwardly all his bravery fading slightly now that they were here. He usually felt more confident and braver when he had a goal or when he was painting.

“This restaurant is pretty nice. They have some nice food and it’s not that expensive. I can get you drunk and you won’t have to travel long to get back to my house” He added slightly teasing him. Walking inside of the restaurant in order to get his mind out their interlinked hands he asked for a table. As they waited to be seated he gave him a sheepish smile. “I should have let you choose the place since you were the one taking me out to dinner.” 

The mild hesitation that crosses Jun’s face before they actually enter is remarkably cute. Neo’s half-tempted to reach out and ruffle his hair, but he’s pretty sure the other man doesn’t want to be treated like a kid. It’s a condition of his, really–anybody younger than him is a kid, even if it’s only a month’s age difference or something. It might be his façade of arrogance, but it’s certainly something, even if Neo’s reminded of the fact that the guy beside him is very much a legal adult after his bold declaration.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to take me home after getting me drunk,” he says with a laugh, leaning over to murmur in his ear. “I’ll be too preoccupied trying to get my hands all over you.”

Neo’s really got to learn how to control himself sometimes; the guy’s sense of humour seems to match up to his, however, and it’s really difficult not to say these things. It’s like some game, some incredible build-up to something even more incredible, and Neo’s severely intrigued with where they’ll end up at the peak of it all.

He offers the young man a reassuring smile at his apologies, lightly brushing his thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to comfort. “I don’t know any restaurants around this area,” he confesses. “It’d be hopeless if you relied on me.” The pad of his thumb–calloused as it is–leaves a feathery touch down the line of Jun’s index finger, and he turns to the maître d’ when he’s told they have a table for them.

As they’re shown to their seats, their hands break contact, and Neo hangs his knapsack over the back of his chair as he sits down. It’s a nice little space towards the side, but not forgotten in the corner, and they’re placed by a window. The lights of the small neighbourhood atmosphere twinkle through the glass, and there’s a remarkable view of the sky; of course, it’s nothing too special, but it’s a far wider range than what Neo would expect from an urban landscape.

He can just make out Orion’s Belt. His favourite.

As he’s handed a menu, he thanks the waitress as is the common custom, taking note of her nickname for future reference. Sayaka. Japanese names are the most enjoyable to say, he thinks, right after Scandinavian names. Their straight-to-the point consonant-vowel pattern will never cease to amaze him.

He takes a quick glance at the prices and deems it all right for him to pay; at any rate, should he spend too much of the money allotted to this area before he moves on to the next space in Japan he hasn’t visited, he can always pickpocket some more. Peeking over the side towards Jun, Neo cocks his brow up with a curve to his lips that’s almost innocent in its satisfaction, its curiosity.

“Have you chosen what to order?” he asks. “I have no idea what the hell I want other than an iced tea.”

artistsanjun:

If Jun had seen the soft expression that had crossed Neo’s face he would have probably been completely enamored. Unfortunately or fortunately he had been too busy mentally scolding himself for even petting Neo in the first place. Jun could still feel the softness of his hair on his palm and the warmth of the contact.

Hearing the disbelief in the man’s voice he smiled as he watched him. “Yes, two days. Depending on the painting sometimes it is more and it also depends on whether I sleep or not.” He remembered his early days in painting when he would not sleep eventually passing out due to exhaustion after finishing a painting. Though he was far from being a master painter at least now he knew how to manage his time better. He let out a small chuckle as he heard the man curse. “Serious.” He nodded.

It was his turn to be surprised as he heard him speak French, a small thrill passing through his body at hearing the language coming from the other man’s mouth.  “Do you speak French?” He asked smiling at his comment. “I hope that you don’t get bored of me.” Teasing the man feeling slightly touched that he would volunteer to pay for dinner.

“You are the one that is actually doing me a favor, so please let me treat you to dinner.” Seeing the extended hand and the wink he couldn’t help the silly grin that appeared on his face. Taking it he squeezed it lightly before letting out a small laugh. “Since you begged so much, I really can’t say no to dinner. Though you should really let me treat you” 

Like before and making sure he had a wallet and keys he dragged the man behind him. Perhaps one of his bad points was that when he got excited or an idea on his mind he was a bit impatient, wanting to hurry things along. Right now all he wanted was to have dinner with the man.

 

Jun’s hand is warm around his own–smoother, too, though Neo imagines everyone on earth’s hands are smoother than his calloused, war-scorned ones. It’s a smaller hand, and the other man’s laugh is light, and it’s difficult for him not to grin right back. “I’m honoured,” he tells him, his voice lowered in a smooth tenor, and he has the sense of mind only to snatch his knapsack off the floor as he’s once more forced to keep up with the artist’s excited pace.

Neo makes sure to walk at the exact same frequency and speed as the other man; he’s still behind him, but he isn’t being dragged so much as he’s being lead. The excitement Jun feels is again that blasted ‘E’ word, and Neo can’t help the little twitch of amusement that curls up on his lips. It’s just dinner, really, and here the guy is acting like he won the lottery and then some. Adorable. And also, Neo must add, very flattering, what with the fact that the person he’s so excited to go out with is him.

Ah, yes, his ego is definitely being boosted.

“To answer your question,” he begins with a relatively thoughtful expression, “I do speak French.” Neo doesn’t remember where he learned it, much like how he doesn’t remember where he learned English (though he imagines it must’ve been his first language or something), but the syllables leave his lips in perfect pronunciation, so he supposes he must’ve mastered it very early on in his life. He knows French is in his blood–though he has no memory of the actual process, he probably did learn, in his youth. Much like how he’d had a scrap’s worth of knowledge in Japanese before actually coming to Japan.

His pace quickens, and Neo bends down slightly, his lips at Jun’s ear. “Do you like it?” he murmurs, breath warm, obvious teasing in his tone. “Because I could always speak more of it, mon petite mignon.” He’s sure to pull back after that, however, mischievous tilt to his mouth as his hand shifts to lock their fingers instead of Jun’s hand keeping his prisoner in its grip.

“I’ll have you know, by the way,” Neo says, moving so that they’re walking side-by-side. His free hand curls around a strap of his knapsack, his head tilting back slightly to look up at the darkening sky before shifting to gaze down at the younger man. “I have no idea where we’re going.”

artistsanjun:

Getting a bottle of water he drank enjoying the cool water, in all his excitement he forgot how thirsty he had been, he had just finished his running after all. Making sure to listen to Neo as he talked even with his back turned. A small amused smile appeared on his face, he actually didn’t really like pineapples too much either. Why were they so sour? Though judging by tone of his voice he guessed he didn’t dislike them as much as the other man. Noticing the change in his tone of voice he turned around seeing a slightly different look flash briefly across his face. This was what he was looking for when he said he wanted to know more about him. That flash of emotion instead of the slightly distant attitude he emanated.

“Apples are quite delicious so I don’t judge your choice of fruit.” Unable to control the sudden impulse, he walked up to the man. Handing him a water bottle he smiled as he patted his head. “It seems you have a very wonderful memory.” Pulling his hand away he quickly walked back to his seat with his back turned he scrunched up his face. What the hell was that? It was so random.

 

Hearing him move to stretch he had a small frown as he heard him say ‘commander’. Taking a good look as he stretched, he noticed it. Neo was very strong and manly but not just like an average man, he had the body of a man in the military. He had seen pictures of his great grandfather in uniform and had seen men with similar body types… Why he hadn’t noticed it before, shaking his head he shrugged it off, he was probably thinking about it too much and if not it wasn’t his business to ask about something he hadn’t mentioned.

Jun let out a small laugh as he sat back down, “I don’t know if I can take you anywhere fancy. I haven’t been working much lately so I am sort of low on funds. But, since you agreed to be my model then I might make an exception. Though perhaps we can do it today? I don’t think I will be done with this painting for another two days. Today I just wanted to sketch and perhaps begin to paint it if I am lucky.” Though at this moment he was being pleasantly distracted by the man, but he was in no particular rush anymore.  Hearing a yawn from the man he looked at him giving him a worried look before grinning, “Are you tired? Or perhaps am I boring you?” 

The touch of a hand to his head has Neo pausing momentarily, and again he’s left with that ghostly remnant–the feel of Jun’s palm against his scalp. It’s a very nice thing, and he leans into it a little, but the contact is severed and Neo’s left again with a simple half-sensation, like Jun’s skin is still touching him even when it isn’t. He blinks, and an expression softer than all his other ones crosses his features.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “A damn good memory.”

Two days! Neo hadn’t a clue that the artsy-fartsy process took that long, and he looks considerably surprised at it–not that his eyes are comically wide and his mouth is agape, or anything, but he’s definitely a certain brand of shocked. “Two days,” he repeats in quiet disbelief. “Holy shit. You serious?” He’s reminded of all the paintings he saw on the other floor, and there’s a quiet respect building up in him in terms of craftsmanship; to be able to create so many things of quality must mean that Jun has dedicated his life to this. And Neo’s a little jealous, almost, that the other man found his purpose in his childhood. But he pushes those feelings away.

“Ah, I could never be bored of you, mon chéri–don’t worry about that.” The French slips off his tongue like fine whiskey, pronounced perfectly–smoothly. “Yawning’s just a natural addition to stretching, I like to think. As for your funding problem–I can pay for dinner.” He’s grinning, ruffling his fingers through his hair absently. “Guess it’s only fair, what with you working so hard to capture my likeness and all.”

It’s unmentioned that all of Neo’s money is stolen, as well as the little cards of plastic in his wallet. Being dead as far as legal records go, there isn’t really much for him to turn back to. And what with him constantly wandering the world and never staying in one place for too long, there’s no time to set up identities, to look for something as mundane as a job.

He gets to his feet, hefting his knapsack up and over his shoulder, and offers the other man a wink and his hand. “Join me for dinner, won’t you?”

artistsanjun:

He couldn’t help the small grin on his face. “That’s good to know for later on then. The extra…” Laughing he paused his sketching not wanting to ruin the drawing. Controlling himself a bit he resumed with his sketching. “You don’t know your favorite food? Wow? Perhaps after my sketching we should go out to dinner. Get you to eat something that can become your favorite.” 

Purple…Hmm. He shrugged indifferent about the color. “It’s a nice color.” Hearing his question he shrugged. “I don’t know I was leaving it up to you to come up with something.” Small talk was not his forte. He liked big talk and teasing and flirting. 

“My favorite color is blue. No particular reason really but its a nice color. It’s sort of relaxing….Favorite food would have to be udon noodles..” He smiled. “Lets see…I have loved painting since I was a child. I love strawberries. Oh and carrots" 

Laughing he turned to look at him ,”Is that enough because I don’t know what else to say. Its very hard to think about things once you are on the spot.” He didn’t remember the last time he had, had this much fun in a while. Getting up from his seat he stretched out. “You can stretch for a bit. I know it gets tiring to sit like that. 

"Do you want some water? I would offer you food but I don’t have anything in my kitchen." 

Endearing, his head repeats, and again he’s mildly frustrated with how easy it seems to be to fall into conversation with the other man. To his credit, his expression doesn’t change–it’s still that aloof, daring slice of charm–but he’s certainly weighing how much Jun seems to be wringing out of him in the minutes that pass. "Difficult to think of things to say, isn’t it?” Neo jabs, but his tone of voice is light. He listens attentively–udon, blue, childhood painting. He sneaks a glance at his knapsack and remembers the strawberries, and he wonders if it’s just a lucky stroke of destiny. But he nods his head.

“It’s enough,” he tells him, assuring him of the fact. “Guess that means I can say I hate pineapples.” His tone is almost venomous as he says the three-syllable word, but it picks up once more at the next few sentences that come out of his mouth. “But apples are my favourite. And when I was a kid, I liked to catch hermit crabs.”

The last fact isn’t a secret; it is, however, one of the things Neo remembers of his childhood, and so he treasures it dearly. Like most of his memories, however, it’s fuzzy and clipped around the edges, a little bit like it isn’t real. There’s another memory he has, though, of a rich boy with a German Shepherd and no friends–but the thing is that boy isn’t him. An irritating thing, certainly, but he doesn’t mention it. Jun might think him crazy for having two people stuck in his brain.

“Stretching?” he repeats, suddenly jolted from his thoughts. Well, then. “Don’t mind if I do, commander.”

At that, he gets to his feet, all powerful limbs and a soldier’s body, and he stretches his arms over his head, tilting his head from side to side to get the cricks out of his neck. He moves all the way to his toes, and then he’s arching his back forward and letting out a quick puff of a breath. His muscles wake up again, the blood rushing back where it should belong, and he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I can drink when you’re done with your painting,” he says, lightly rustling his hands through his hair as he lets out a soft yawn. “Yeah? Especially if you’re taking me out.” His lips tug into a grin. “Wining and dining is very, very sophisticated.”

artistsanjun:

He liked the way he pronounced his name. It was deliberate and to the point and as he saw that smirk he knew he was going to paint him with that expression. It was playful and looked good on his face. 

A small blush appeared on his face though very light as the thought of running hands across his body passed through his mind. The thought was not unappealing. He quite liked the man. Shaking his head to get the image out he laughed. “I don’t want to touch a mannequin. I quite enjoy the movement and sounds that come from the human body as I touch them like whimpers and the trembling of limbs” He added teasing him back.  

He turned to look at him again seeing as he had a bit of trouble coming up with things, perhaps he didn’t like to talk about himself…or he was one of those mysterious guys who didn’t ever talk about themselves. Wasn’t that the same thing? 

He laughed as he heard small and random things about him. “I like your hair like that. It looks good on you.” He was quite surprised to hear about the juggling torches though. “Wow! You have to show me that. But really there has to be more about you?” He did not want to ask about the scar. They had just met after all. 

“For example….What is your favorite color or food?” He gave him a small smile. “If you are going to say random and inane facts at least give me good ones like those.”

 

Ah, so the artist is trying to joke around with him as well! Neo doesn’t blush at all, doesn’t hesitate, and he’s grinning as his forearm tilts up, hand now propping up his cheek instead of his bicep. “I’ll try to remember to be extra appreciative, then–noises and all.” He puts an emphasis on ‘extra’. There is appreciative and then there is extra appreciative, and Neo’s pretty sure that the latter must be something of particular worth.

“My favourite food is…” Well, shit. What’s his favourite food? Neo frowns a bit at that. He wants to joke and say 'military rations’, but that’d bring up the war he was in. He scratches at the side of his head and then points, making sure his thumb is pointed up like he’s aiming a gun. “… I’ll get back to you on that. For colour, though, it’s purple. Definitely purple.”

He doesn’t have any good reasons for his favourite colour, not like other people. He doesn’t have any good reasons for anything that can’t be explained via scientific rationalisation. Neo wishes he were capable of more emotional depth sometimes, but other times he’s glad he isn’t so terribly dogged down by his 'heart’ or whatever it is people seem to be singing about these days.

His heart is as foreign to him as his memories are. It’s the reason he’s out on his proverbial journey of self-discovery.

“How am I supposed to know what good facts are, though?” His lips wrap around a small tilt of nonchalance, fingers running through his hair briefly as he looks at Jun with a curious lilt to his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me. Tell me about yourself, maybe–I always work best with examples.”

artistsanjun:

He smiled relieved that the man had not thought it weird. “Yes, I usually like touching and feeling things It gives you a better sense of how things feel and work and it helps me sometimes to draw. At others I think it hurts it but well…” He looked at his canvas as he continued to sketch before meeting his eyes. “I sort of wanted to touch your hair so it was also an excuse.” 

Jun grinned seeing that he was okay with it. “Thank you but I usually touch my subject more since they are not living. I prefer to draw non living things, its easier.”  He liked this man he realized as he continued to sketch. There was something relaxing even with the man’s slightly rough exterior and mischievous attitude there was a sweetness to him. 

 ”Jun but my name is Takahashi Jun.” He smiled enjoying his teasing, laughing once he understood the bad joke he had tried to make. ” ‘Just’ is not a part of my name Neo.” Jun quite liked his name also. It sounded nice as it came out of his lips.

“I really liked your joke though. I am quite a fan of those cheesy jokes or any sort of pun” His hand continued to move as he glanced up to him. “Tell me about yourself, Neo.” He smiled wanting to see more of his personality. 

“Takahashi Jun,” Neo repeats the syllables, and he’s glad he’s got Japanese technically hunkered down, otherwise he would’ve butchered that last name horribly. Of course, he can speak Japanese–he has no idea where he learned it, amnesia and all, but it’s in his heritage–he’s just got some issues with names, sometimes. And his kanji is absolutely atrocious.

Neo’s lips are still curved in that playful grin, his tone light as he rests his cheek on his bicep and watches the artist work. “Well, Takahashi Jun, if you’d like I can pretend to be a mannequin. Then you can touch me all you want.”

It’s pretty interesting watching the guy work. Neo’s incapable of any artsy stuff (unless you count guitar, which he doesn’t have any memory of learning, and ukelele, which he does), so he doesn’t really identify. Hearing the scratch of pencil on an easel, imagining his features coming to life beneath Jun’s capable hands–it’s nerve-wracking. And also exciting.

Weird as being painted out of nowhere is, he is flattered. And he’s relieved he got the young man comfortable enough to laugh at his stupid joke.

“About myself?” He lets out a little ‘huh’, and it’s followed with a mild, almost-pout. “Damn. Haven’t really got much to say. Well. My last name’s Roanoke.” In the Japanese accent, it’s pronounced Roh-ah-noh-ku, which he finds amusing. “And my blood type’s O.” He looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “And, uh, I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut.”

They’re silly things, mostly. Neo isn’t going to tell Jun about war or the perpetual fire in his nerves or the fact that the scar on his face is the smallest one he has. It’s not proper, he thinks, and he quite likes pretending to be a normal guy. It’s a lot easier than being ex-military by a longshot.

“I know how to juggle flaming torches,” he states casually. “That’s probably the most interesting thing about me.”

artistsanjun:

He smiled, a slight red on his face as he got a bit embarrassed. He had never been that good with words choosing to draw and express himself through his paintings. “Yes, I want you to sit like you normally would, while still be able to see your face. I want you be relaxed enough to be able to sit that way for awhile and to sit like you. I want to paint you—” He let out a small sigh as he became exasperated with himself and his inability to explain himself. 

“Did that make sense…” He smiled laughing at himself a bit. Walking up to him he moved his hand through his hair, looking at him closely trying to get a good sense of his body and the movement of his hair. Realizing that perhaps this was too intrusive he pulled back rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I am sorry but sometimes its easier to get a good sense of how you are or look through touch.”

Walking back to his easel he put picked up a pencil, beginning a rough sketch of him. A small grin made its way on his face as he enjoyed his teasing. “Call me Jun. I am no Van Gogh. Just Jun.” 

The guy’s way of stumbling over his words is endearing, and the fact that he exists at all is a minor frustration. Endearing people shouldn’t be real, but here one is. He ends up waving his hand in dismissal. “It made perfect sense. No worri–” Neo blinks at the fingers through his hair, effectively messing them up the slightest bit. The touch hadn’t been unpleasant, but it was unexpected, and he ends up sitting there mildly surprised with the ghost of the young man’s digits against his scalp.

He grins at the other man’s words and ends up shaking his head slightly. “Don’t apologise,” he tells him. “Who am I to question your methods, right? Whatever works. You’re immortalising me. I can’t judge.” At the mention of his name, Neo gives a nod of his head. Jun. A simple, one-syllabled name–and it’s not like he’s a baby book come to life or anything, but Neo thinks it fits him just fine.

“Just Jun, though. If I’m not mistaken, Japan does that name stuff backwards, right? So is Jun your first name, or your last?” He’s teasing, of course. Trying to get the young man comfortable with him taking up his studio space. Neo has no idea if it’s working or not, what with his sense of humour being absolute shit, but he acts like he’s got everything in the palm of his hand. “Personally, I’m hopin’ it’s your first. Sounds cuter than Just.”