Work Text:
Asahi gulps, looking just below Imari's eyes. “What is it that you want... from me?”
“If I may, could you do me just one favor?” Imari supplies, holding Asahi in place with one hand intertwined with Asahi’s. His other hand on Asahi’s arm. He doesn't remember how long they were standing still because of the Art Club President’s request of modeling while they practice their new play— a love story about a noble and his butler, but judging how Asahi was trembling, it must’ve been long enough.
“Good! That’s good!” The Art Club President gushes as she scribbled down on her sketchbook like a madman. “My eyes didn’t deceive me at all. You two are perfect for this!”
“What favor, my lord?” Asahi looks at his script. “What must be on your m-mind?”
Imari hums, like in the script, but he has already memorized all of his lines that he didn’t need a script assisting him. It saved him the trouble of reading the highlighted lines on his notebook back and forth. “I want you to sign a contract.”
Apart from that, he has the liberty to take in all of Asahi now that he’s close. Asahi is so small compared to him and the way he was avoiding eye contact with that blush is making Imari unsure if he was doing it because Imari dislikes being looked at... or another reason entirely. “ A contract between us.”
When Imari tightens the grip of Asahi’s hand, he hears Asahi stutter. “Con-Contract? A business contract of a lord and a butler is no laughing matter.”
“But it is what I want,” Imari answers, with confidence as the character he’s playing. “I don’t mean a business contract either.”
“Then...”
“Next pose, please!” The President shouts.
Imari releases the grip on Asahi’s arm and instead, he wraps his free hand around Asahi’s waist. It's not surprising that it's small, as well.
“I want you,” Imari breathes out, and he doesn’t know if he was feeling strange because of his acting or it’s because Asahi is looking at him with wide eyes and a face tinged with scarlet. Asahi embodies this bashful character perfectly. “Sign my contract to be mine.”
There’s a myriad of squeals occupying the clubroom and Asahi looks away from Imari’s gaze. “My lord, that’s—You must be out of your mind...” Asahi is supposed to shout that line, but what he just uttered is barely audible.
“Asahi, look here,” Imari whispers. They're supposed to look at each other for this pose, after all.
“A-Ah, right...” Asahi's eyes flicker to the floor and to his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I am serious, Vincent...” Imari says. “Never in my life would I ever make a contract and not swear upon it.”
“My lord...”
“Please.” Imari allows himself to lower his head so it is closer to Asahi’s face. Asahi is so close that the brown flecks in Asahi’s eyes are clear. He lowers his lids. "Let me in your life, and I will make you happy.”
“I...” Asahi starts. “Could you give me time, my lord?”
“Alistair,” Imari corrects. “Call me Alistair.”
“Could you give me time, Alistair...?”
Imari smiles. "If that is what you want, then I am willing to wait, Vincent.”
“And done!” The Art Club President yells, lifting her sketchbook up in the air proudly. “Two pose drawings in a day, how lucky!”
“... Is it done?” Asahi asks.
“Yes! Amazing work, you two!”
Asahi heaves a relieved sigh before he looks at Imari. “... Senpai?”
Imari blinks. “Yes?”
“Your uh...” Asahi gestures to the hand on his waist. “Hand.”
“Ah.” Imari lets Asahi go. “Right.”
"You two done?” Botan smiles from the door, carrying their newly-sewn costumes. "You seem to be having fun."
“Botan-senpai.” Asahi walks up to her, offering to carry the costumes.
“Should we go now?” Botan rests a hand on her hip. “We can practice with the remaining time.”
“Okay...” Asahi nods.
“Til next time, Botan!” The Art Club President waves goodbye at them, along with the other club members. Asahi follows Botan out as she waved back and Imari tails him from behind.
Imari lifts up his hand and stares at it. Why didn’t I let go...?
His gaze lands on Asahi, whose back was facing him.
… Strange.