The weeks bleed by, but the hole in Hajime’s heart only grows in size.
Everywhere he looks, every step he takes, everywhere he turns-
He’s reminded of Tooru.
The café with the adorable drinks that Tooru loves, where he always orders one far too big to finish by himself. The restaurant they like to frequent when they go out together, where Tooru would always order pizza because he knows how much Hajime likes it. His favourite bookstore. The gym they’d go to together, the Domo fridge magnets that Tooru gave him that Hajime knows he should get rid of, throw out, but he can’t-
They try to talk, once, but it doesn’t end well. It only ends in tears and rips open the wound again, leaving it fresh and throbbing, the focus of all of Hajime’s attention. Every breath he takes, his heart aches.
It fucking sucks, but there’s not much he can do about it.
Moving on sounds appealing, but every time he thinks about a future with no Tooru in it he just ends up lying in bed and crying, so he’s pretty sure he’s not ready for that yet.
With all of these thoughts banging around in his head, making a home where they’re not wanted, he’s really not sure why he turns on the television late that evening when he knows that Tooru’s team is playing.
He just wants to… check.
Just see, and make sure that he’s there. That he’s alright.
Maybe that’ll make it all hurt less, if Tooru is doing okay.
He can only hope, anyway.
The television flicks on, and the sight of Tooru has his breath catching in his throat. He clutches the remote a little bit tighter, eyes watching Tooru as he moves around the court.
He’s in top form, tonight, like always.
His eyes serious, his form perfect; he serves and plays exactly as Hajime would always expect him to. It almost seems like he’s not even affected.
Hajime catches the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
They win, but-
Tooru doesn’t celebrate like he usually does. He’s not swept away in the joy, in the happiness, like he usually is. He doesn’t smile into the camera, there are no frills, no nothing.
Rather, he gives a sort of… sad smile, to one of his teammates, who slaps him on the back as they leave the court.
The whole exchange leaves Hajime with a weight in the pit of his stomach. He feels like he’s swallowed lead, the taste still stinging his tongue. He tips back the rest of his glass of water, but that only seems to make the feeling worse, his stomach churning uncomfortably.
Of course, the reporters are all over Tooru. They meet him and his teammates right as they’re coming out of the gymnasium, still looking tired but fresh enough, having changed from their uniforms. Tooru’s not at the front of the pack, like usual, but as soon as the reporters come out, Tooru steps out to the front to talk.
Hajime’s finger hovers over the power button on his remote. Seeing him is one thing, but hearing his voice-
Then Tooru opens his mouth and Hajime’s swept back up in all those feelings he’s been trying to ignore ever since he walked away - ever since he made the choice to walk away.
God, he misses him so much, but he can’t. He can’t, can’t go back to how they were, it won’t happen-
“I have something I need to talk about,” Tooru says into the microphone, his expression shifting into something a little more serious, and Hajime’s grip on the remote loosens.
His mouth feels dry as Tooru continues, and focusing on his words gets a little bit more difficult, until, until-
Hajime clicks the volume on the television up ten times, rapt attention on the screen.
He did not just say that, did he?
Hajime drops the remote down onto the couch, leaning a little closer to the television, in some vain hope that it might help him understand, because he can’t have heard that, right-
“Yes, I’m in love with the most wonderful, amazing, caring man,” Tooru clarifies, with a smile on his face.
Yeah. Hajime heard him right. Tooru just-
In front of a room full of reporters, fans, his fellow athletes-
On live television-
He doesn’t turn the television off. He barely manages to step into his shoes, not even tying the laces up properly. He hardly remembers the run over to Tooru’s place, because he has to go, he has to-
It’s eerily reminiscent of the last time he sat outside of Tooru’s apartment and waited for him, except now, now, Hajime has a whole other set of thoughts screaming around in his head.
Tooru loves him, he loves him, he told the entire world that he loves him. They don’t have to hide anymore, they can be together-
Every second that Hajime spends sitting on those steps feels like an eternity. He taps his foot while he waits, trying to collect all of his thoughts, organize them somehow so that he can communicate them to Tooru, so that he can explain how he’s feeling, what he wants for them. How much he loves him.
He’s too far lost in his thoughts, and he doesn’t even hear Tooru’s footsteps as he walks up the walkway, slowing the closer he gets to his steps.
Tooru drops his gym bag to the ground, and Hajime looks up at the noise.
Their eyes meet, and Tooru looks so, so scared. There’s already tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Hajime needs to talk, needs to say something-
“Hajime?” Tooru’s voice is quiet and nervous. He takes a step closer, and all Hajime can do is nod, standing up and opening his arms.
Tooru throws himself against Hajime and suddenly, words don’t seem to matter quite as much. Hajime holds him close and Tooru’s just here. He’s clutching his shirt, sobbing into his neck, filling his lungs with his scent, his scent that he’s missed so much-
“You’re here,” Tooru whispers, pressing his face against Hajime’s chest. He pulls a hand up to wipe away his tears, lifting his face up so that they can look at each other. Really look.
“You told everyone,” Hajime says, pressing their foreheads together. Tooru laughs, swallowing back more tears.
“I had to,” Tooru says, opening his eyes and giving Hajime an honest smile. “I couldn’t keep lying anymore… not when it was going to cost me you.” He grins, and Hajime is struck by how much he wants to kiss him, right now.
So he does.
It’s not very coordinated - Tooru laughs into it, and Hajime cups his cheeks to wipe away some tears with his thumbs. Hajime can’t help but smile, and when he pulls away, he moves his hands down and laces their fingers together.
Tooru laughs again, bringing their joined hands up to brush away some more tears. “Do you want to come in?” He asks, smile bright and voice warm. “I have something that I’ve been meaning to give you…”
Hajime squeezes his hands, and nods. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
Are there any resources you recommend to aspiring artists? I'm interested in what an art teacher with your style would recommend!
~ Heya, dear Anon ♥ Maybe not really what you’ve asked for ? I am not really the one to ask for “modern” resources, actually. But I always say to my students to train their eye before their hand, looking at the real life around them, the shape of real people, hands, clothes, or objects, the lights and shadows of every little thing in the same room. Museums are also a wonderful place to train the eye, so I put there some paintings I really like since I was a teenager. I am a “old-paintings” lover, and all of this gave me the wish to draw and paint, years ago.
“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“
Hahaha okay xD
Sansa Stark is one of a handful of actresses that doesn’t get naked on his show. It’s not exactly revolutionary for an actress to refuse to show their body for the world to see but on his show, it is quite a novelty. Some of the crewmen like to make lewd comments about her and call her a prude behind her back, which Jon tries to stomp down as much as he can, but men are assholes. There’s only so much Jon can do short of just punching them whenever they start on Sansa, and he’s been tempted to a few times too, especially when the lewd comments become too graphic. It’s disgusting how some people feel they can talk about another human being that way and Jon hates it with a burning passion. He’s never been one of those guys that like to boast about the women they’ve slept with. Even at school when having bragging rights like that was what made you popular. It’s just not something he does. He was raised to respect women.
It gives him a reputation around the set. People tend to avoid him anyways because he’s an award-winning actor and he has the kind of face that makes people think he’s one of those pretentious method actors. He’s really not but he doesn’t mind the solitude. Truth is, Jon’s just awkward around new people. There’s a reason why he likes acting so much – he doesn’t have to be himself for awhile. It’s nice to fall into a character and forget about his own insecurities or shortcomings. But he was taught to respect women and he was taught to stand up for what’s right so him coming out of his proverbial shell to yell at the crew gives him quite the ‘diva’ reputation. Not that he cares. Jon’s a white, straight man in Hollywood with a six-pack and a pretty face. He’s going to get jobs.
Sansa, on the other hand, is young and new; plucked straight from drama school before she could graduate. She’s beautiful – there’s hardly any doubt about that – and talented but she’s a dime a dozen in the acting pond. She can’t afford to be anything but sweet and polite with the crew, so Jon does it for her. He doesn’t have an ulterior motive. He barely has any scenes with her. He’d do it for any of the other women he works with, but okay, maybe he is a little more protective of her because maybe he’s intrigued by the steely glint in her eyes or the way she practically whimpers when she hears there are lemon cakes at the crafts table. It’s a stupid crush but even if he didn’t like her, he’d still defend her right to not be naked, so it’s a complete surprise to him when he does find her standing there in the middle of his trailer completely naked save for a pair of pink polkadot underwear.
“Oh,” she says when he walks into the trailer. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.” Her tone is casual, as if she’s simply greeting him in passing on the set, but there’s a pleasant flush rising from her neck to her cheeks. It’s making it extremely hard for Jon not to look below her neckline to see how far that flush might extend to.
“I… uh, we finished early,” is all he can manage but good lord if she doesn’t cover up soon, Jon’s going to have a really mortifying bodily reaction to her.
Sansa nods. She looks around the trailer and sighs. “The piping in my trailer broke so I couldn’t take a shower and I had all this fake blood on me. I needed to shower. I’m meeting my family for dinner. I can’t go to dinner looking like an extra on the set of Carrie, you know?” She’s looking at him like it’s not a rhetorical question so he nods vigorously in response. “Right, and… Well, your trailer’s the closest and they said you’d be filming till late in the evening, and…” She’s as red as her hair now and that makes Jon smile in spite of the odd situation he’s now in. “I didn’t think you’d mind. You’re the nicest one on set.”
“What?” Jon inclines his head in confusion because that’s definitely not the reputation he knows he has.
“Jon,” Sansa sighs. “I know what you do for me. You’re not exactly subtle and the makeup girls talk. You know they say that… that you have a crush on me or something, which is silly, right? Because you’re Jon Snow and I’m just me and – what?”
“Okay,” he breathes out, closing his eyes, because it’s now just way too much for him to handle. He tried being a gentleman because he sees male and female nudity all of the time on the show but this is Sansa. It really is just too much. “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”
“Oh!” she squeaks, and he hears rustling before she says, “you can look now.”
Jon opens his eyes to see her in a pale blue sleeveless dress and it really isn’t helping at all because she’s as beautiful with clothes on as she is without. This is bloody ridiculous. “Um… so you were saying?” He honestly really didn’t hear a word of what she said. Something about a piping and him being nice and makeup girls.
“You have a crush on me,” Sansa murmurs, stepping in close. Jon swallows, which makes her smile tentatively. “Don’t you?”
“No,” he answers too quickly. “I mean… I wouldn’t call it a crush, more like… you’re really talented and it’s easy to be interested in you. Everyone is.”
“But you’re interested in me?”
She’s way too close now and he’s way too human not to notice the way her pupils are dilating as she looks at him. God, he’s totally gone and he doesn’t even care that coworkers dating coworkers is the worst idea ever, but they really don’t have many scenes together so fuck it, fuck it.
He must’ve said that out loud because she’s smirking by the time he captures her lips with his. He can feel it against him and it makes him laugh into her mouth. As first kisses go, it’s not great because they’re both laughing and there’s a lot of clashing of teeth, but when they pull back, her hands are around his neck, tracing patterns against the nape of his neck, and she’s pressed against his chest. It’s not great but it’s perfect.
How do I tell if I've lost fat or muscle? I actually measured myself before i started doing hiit/more weights/more walking and activity in general trying to burn fat doing workouts fasted too etc and i've lost 1/2 inch of my waist (which is quite a lot for me because I'm a normal size anyway so it's like 26 1/2 now) but I've lost at least a kilogram on the scale too which I wasn't looking to do but if I'm losing fat would the scale be going down?
If you lose anything the scale will go down. You take a poop and the scale does down hahaha!
If you aren’t falling underweight then don’t stress and just build some muscle instead? You generally tell if you have lost or gain fat or muscle by looking in a mirror (easy to spot the difference) or you can get those dexa scans (expensive and not necessary)