Shisui ignored the tense situation ensuing in the back of the studio. He knew Obito would show up. He calmly flipped through a catalog, admiring the colorful art. It wasn't what he was into, and he shut it.
Several chaotic things happened at once, in no particular order..
The entrance to the studio swung open, and he heard new customers walk through, speaking in a voice that was.. eerily familiar. He instantly turned his gaze to the door, and the floor disappeared beneath him. His heart jumped to his throat and he knew a sense of constriction in his chest.
What was he seeing?? WHO WAS HE SEEING?
Shisui froze and watched a face he had fantasized many times, in his wildest dreams, in his most feverish dreams, strut through the little studio, long.. bare legs for days, lean tight torso.. a face that scorned millions of heartbreak, announce himself before him.
And he had been doing so well since this morning, he hadn't seen a single hallucination and he wasn't visited by any spirits. Why now?
That face.. no this wasn't real, this wasn't real, this wasn't real.. he was starting to panic. That face belonging to the most angelic, achingly familiar, most famous man of their era, his beauty outshining any living being, this wasn't happening. A moment of weakness, he was obviously reaching for someone comforting, this happened to him when he stepped out of the house, his racing mind gave him certain comfort people to cling to. It used to be.. now it was a famous popstar. But who was with him? He was never delusional enough that he imagined him with anyone else.
With growing dread.. Shisui watched the man linger in one spot, and ghost over to him. He was stuck. He was horrified that his limbs wouldn't move.
Before he could remove his gawking stare the famous man locked eyes with his and Shisui saw the color of the ocean at dawn, fresh foam and mint, the gentlest sea green. A steady stare met his, warm and inviting and just vaguely weary, sensual as the rising tide..
