"You would do so well if you entered," the art supervisor said, steeping her fingers together on her desk like an evil mastermind. "Prestigious companies often scout talent at shows like these. I know graduation's still a year away, but you need to think of what comes after. This is a great opportunity!"

"I'm neither deaf nor stupid." Daichi reclined against the studio chair, spinning in slow circles. "I want to cruise through my last year, and I've nothing to prove."

"Nothing to-? Daichi!" she whined. "This project doesn't even have to be complicated. Just pick some themes. The board still has to approve it, and if it's utterly phenomenal, they'll pass it."

"So the worst they'll say is yes?"

"You'll have the whole semester to make it!"

"Please sign my form and let me go," Daichi sighed. "You've been holding it hostage for twenty minutes, and my time is valuable."

"No, it isn't. Other than some minor mark-ups on your sculpture, you're a free man."

"That's all I've ever wanted to be."

She glared at him. "Is it because you don't have a muse?"

"I've never had one."

"That's not strictly true. It's just that when you're sculpting someone's body, you have a tendency to cut off the head. This time, find a muse with a nice face."

Daichi held up a finger. "I didn't say I was doing it." Then another one. "And now I'd have to find someone repulsively ugly."

"I can't wait to see it."

"See what? The non-existent thing I won't be making?"

"Exactly that. Have the sketch on my desk soon! I'm looking forward to seeing what you can really do!" She signed his form, barely finishing it before he swiped it from her, finally escaping.

As Daichi dashed passed the workbenches, Erik glanced up from his painting. "Hey, you want me to pose for you again? I can do it naked."

Daichi's mouth curled. "I don't want to go blind, man."

"Then why don't you sculpt the Angel again? That'd definitely win the competition."

"Not ever again. They erected that statue of him outside the art museum, like he's some Adonis. I refuse to have people compliment me on how I captured the beauty of his face. Compliment me on my beauty."

"Uh, not your talent?"

"That's undeniable. I had my statue erected outside an art museum for God's sake."

"I," Erik stammered. "You're being too complicated. My head hurts. Go away now."

So Daichi went outside for a smoke. He carefully navigated through the messy studio, avoiding pots of paint, pencil and crayon shavings, and the occasional carving tools, which looked better suited for gardening. 

Outside in the chilly air, he leant against the railing, gazing down at the busy parking lot, and dialed Surya.

The instant it connected, he said, "No one understands me."

That earned a gentle huff of laughter. "Oh, you poor, misunderstood artist. Is this your villain origin?"

"No, that would be when Nugget told me I was going bald." Daichi gingerly touched his hair. "And you, how's your day been?"

There was a pause, which was unusually serious, and Daichi began to frown in concern.

"Well, I acted a bit immature," Surya admitted, sighing into Daichi's ear. 

"It couldn't be that bad. You're a saint."

"I threatened the baby."

Daichi tilted his head, puzzled. "Who, Akira?"

"Mn. I either have dementia or someone ignored the list of mentees I put down as my first choice."

"I know you don't hate him," Daichi hummed. 

Surya immediately started grumbling. "He's so airheaded that it grates on my nerves. He flunked his test, Daichi. I mean, he really flunked it, and then he continues sleeping away during my lessons? It's insulting. I gave him the benefit of the doubt at first. You know, maybe he's still settling into his first year, or maybe early morning practice exhausts him, but I don't think running twice around the world would tire him. And he has hickeys all over his neck, blatantly telling me that his nightly activities are more important than studying one paragraph of my course."

"He's pretty airheaded," Daichi agreed, and he could almost feel Surya's scowl jabbing him.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"You haven't told me how you threatened the baby."

"Well, he's not allowed to play basketball if his grades aren't good."

Daichi coughed around his cigarette, laughing with disbelief. 

"I swear, take this seriously," Surya hissed. "I actually want to help him do well, but he was so belligerent about his own studies that I tried to force him to take them seriously. He might never return to class now out of spite." 

Surya then paused before admitting. "Well, no, I know he will. All he has on his mind is basketball."

"Just bring him a chocolate or something next time you see him."

A groan. "You're worse at this than me."

"Well, we know he's not entirely belligerent about his studies. Otherwise, he wouldn't still be attending class, would he?" Daichi took a moment to smoke before exhaling a cloud of it. "You should try talking to him about it."

"With some chocolate?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"He could be allergic to it," Surya pointed out. 

"Then that'd solve the problem of having to talk to him again." Daichi grinned with pleasure when Surya's laughter crackled over the phone. 

It wasn't every day that someone bothered Surya to this extent. It was that chilling politeness he wielded against everyone that fooled them into thinking he was a caring, gentle person, when in reality he wasn't considering them at all. 

And oh, how he despised others seeing him lose his composure, even just a little bit. He was always on edge, always killing himself to do everything perfectly. 

And it was like watching a kid: one who could put on his own shoes and tie his own laces, who could dress himself alone, yet had no idea why all the buttons of his shirt were misaligned nor how to fix it. Who probably didn't even know there was anything wrong at all. 

Daichi always found that to be such a shame. 

About the only time he agreed with the nickname 'Angel' was when Surya was asleep beside him. When Surya's expression was soft and devoid of that quiet fear, and he was no longer fighting with every breath to maintain his perfect image. 

An image that had somehow cracked in front of Akira of all people. 

But this might be a chance for Surya to finally realise that he could be liked even if he was ugly or mean or petty, and that he should try loosening up a little in everyday life, too. So why not employ Akira for this lesson?

But first, Surya needed to apologise. 

Daichi glanced over his shoulder as Erik exited the studio with perfect timing. 

With his rings glinting in the pale sunlight, he caught a startled Erik under his arm and hummed. "Actually, the Little Bears have a practice match against the Cobras tonight. It shouldn't be open to everyone, but we can go if we pretend we're working for the newsletter."

Poor Erik grumbled, "Then you actually have to draw something for it."

Surya's reluctance was palpable. And truthfully, if it was anyone but Akira, Daichi wouldn't care one bit whether Surya offended them. 

Truthfully, niether of them were interested in troublesome things. If one of their friends dropped off the face of the earth, it would take someone else mentioning it before they realised it was true. Would they even go after that friend? Unlikely. 

But Daichi got along surprisingly well with Akira and found his crush on Surya amusing, and if this worked out, then Surya might learn a thing or two about loosening up.

"Come on, are we going or not?" Daichi pushed. 

Surya mumbled, "Fine, I'll meet you at the gym."

The satisfied grin Daichi gave had Erik shrinking under his arm, but Daichi just hummed, "Practice your apology speech on your way."