An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
He wasn't thinking when he approached the model, who gathered his things up. "Excuse me, would you mind staying just another 30 minutes?" And then, because he thought incentive would help added, "I'll buy you a drink after. You're a good model."
Niibashi didn't compliment often, and it felt foreign on his tongue.
"For real? Absolutely!" He was all but jumping in place. "I needed an excuse to skip ping pong club, if I'm being honest." He shot a quick text off and turned his attention to Niibashi once more, hand extended. "Tashiro Gonzaburo, by the way."
He responded in kind. "Niibashi Juuya."
While they shook hands, Niibashi took in the differences. His own hand was covered with streaks of chalk, and paint lingered under his fingernails. When they were clean, he prided himself on his well kept hands. Tashiro's were rough, calloused, and the way he gripped Niibashi's hand felt oddly safe, secure.