Chapter Text
"'...He's had the art-world in a choke hold for the last two years with his haunting masterpieces. Like shadow coming to life on the canvas, his works often leave the viewer disturbed but unable to look away-' blah blah, same old stuff," Nobara muttered, slapping the magazine down. "You got them wrapped around your finger with the whole 'hot, young and broody' thing. It's perfect."
Sitting on a chair facing away from her, Megumi simply shrugged. He had heard these words a million times — haunting, disturbing, nightmarish — to describe his art. Typically he only painted in shades, using no colors. The pieces did look like night time swirling over canvas; beasts, monsters and creations coming to life out of the darkness.
Megumi's eyes cut to the canvas on the easel in front of him again. It was nothing but teeth. A hungry gaping maw trying to consume anything that came in it's path. It felt like it might reach out and tear into someone should a hand reach towards it. The viewer could do with that what they wanted. When he would inevitably be asked what it meant, he would give the same answer as always; it wasn't for him to decide.
Truthfully, it represented the base instinct of humanity to consume. Want, greed, and a ruthlessness to get what was desired by any means necessary. To chew until not even the bones remain.
"Are you here to see if it's done?" Megumi asked when she didn't say anything more.
"Of course. Exhibition is tonight," Nobara said.
Gesturing towards it with his hand, his eyes didn't leave it. His friend and agent moved forward. Tilting her head, she put her hands on her hips.
"Yikes," she mumbled. "Well, that's why they call you the Nightmare Artist."
When Megumi's cousin had suggested her friend to act as his agent, he hadn't known what to think, really. She was only a year older than him without much experience. He decided to take a chance and was glad he did. She was much easier to get along with than the previous agent. That guy had been a total dick, always pestering him in the middle of his work to ask when something would be done. As if Megumi worked on some type of schedule. As if his time belonged to anyone other than himself.
Nobara respected his time and it became easy to fall into something friendlier. Maki had been right in suggesting her.
Rubbing a hand through his messy dark hair — there really couldn't do a damn thing to be done about it — he finally got up from his seat. Back and knees popping from sitting still too long, he moved towards the door to leave the room he had long since converted into a studio. Lucky enough to be an artist that actually made good money from making art, he lived in a decent building towards the center of the city. Megumi could afford better, but didn't need better. The idea of something bigger than he needed didn't sit right with him.
Reaching his living room, he went to the windows that looked out to the world below. The sun was annoying at this time of day. Blinding.
It was perfect in the afternoon and evening, however. The sun would move behind the eight-story building, casting a looming shadow on everything down below. It was the thing that made Megumi decide to move in. He liked the way it looked.
Lately though, he had been considering moving. He kept receiving letters. Things from someone he didn't know. It wasn't so bad when it was just sent to the P.O. box with all the other fan mail. Recently, the letters were getting tucked into his mailbox here in the building. It made him uneasy, that this person had figured out what building he lived in.
The words in the first letters had been sweet and sincere. Over time, it's gotten... vulgar. Disgusting. If it weren't the same hand-writing — signed with the same simple 'S' at the end of every letter — he might assume it was someone completely different.
There were details about what they wanted to do to Megumi. He could scarcely bring himself to read them, the sexual acts so descriptive, the promises of pain making him flinch.
Being 'famous' did bring a lot of unwanted attention. Usually this kind of attention was reserved for those in the film and music industries. They had a lot more media coverage than some artist like Megumi. Whoever this guy was — and he was clearly a man, judging by the letters — is obsessed. He had been receiving one to three letters every week for almost a year now.
"Alright, I'll get the crew to come move that later. What are you going to call it?" Nobara asked, coming out of the studio.
"Mm," Megumi said smartly. He hadn't thought of that yet. A name flutters by in his mind and he grabs for it. "'Malediction.'"
Nobara raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright then, you spooky bitch. Oh, and I picked up your mail on my way up. Looks like you got more, uh, fan-mail." Nobara winced. She had been privy to all of this, the words in the letters making them both uncomfortable.
Sighing, Megumi walked over. Sure enough, there was another letter with the same fake return address. He knew it was fake after trying to track down the writer of these letters. The address was an empty lot where a business used to stand. Stealing himself, he ripped it open.
The photo that accompanied the article that Nobara had been reading was taped to the letter. The writing started out with how nice he looked in the picture. How beautiful his dark blue eyes were, how women would kill for his lashes, the paleness of his skin compared to his dark hair... And quickly devolved to what he wanted to shove in past those 'pouty lips.' How desperately they wanted to see him choke on this particular thing.
At the end it said they looked forward to the exhibition tonight. That they couldn't wait to see Megumi there.
Megumi sucked in air through his teeth. "Nobara, he says he going to be there tonight."
"Has he ever said that before? I mean, you've had two other shows since this started," Nobara asked, taking the letter from Megumi's hands.
Feeling anxiety pool in his stomach, he shook his head. "He hasn't, actually."
"Do you want to make another police report?" Nobara asked.
When the letters started getting this way, Megumi had gone to the police, only to find there was nothing they could do. Even the threats in the letters did nothing to sway them into helping. It was like he would have to get hurt before the police would do anything. Frustrating didn't begin to cover it.
"No. Police won't do anything anyway. I mean, the worst this creep is going to do is... what? Try and talk to me? Destroy my art? I don't know," Megumi sighed.
He had resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to get any help already. Nobara might as well, too.
*-*-*-*
Standing in the middle of another one of his showings, Megumi looked around. Even as he was talking to guests that were there to buy his art, he couldn't help it. His stalker said he was going to be here tonight. Was this person that kept sending Megumi letters someone he knew? Were they watching him right now? Had he spoken with them before — tonight?
Trying to concentrate and keep in mind that there was plenty of security around the gallery, he made his way around. People wanted to ask questions and take photos. He did the same polite dance over and over. Every time one of these happened, he somehow garnered even more mystique.
Megumi didn't see it himself but if that was the image people saw, who was he to argue?
Megumi liked to preach that everything was subjective. That included how people saw him. In all his twenty-four years on this earth, he never cared to correct anything someone might think about him or his work. He didn't care to.
There was more press badgering Megumi for photos. Letting them take them, his face remained unmoving. Nobara had told him that he should smile once in a random photo for shock value. The thought amused him, but that wasn't going to happen.
A tuft of white hair at the corner of his eye had him both excited and exasperated all at once. Satoru Gojo never missed one of his exhibitions. Honestly, he felt he owed his 'fame' to the older man. He was the first one to see value in Megumi's art.
Bidding for his pieces at high prices and talking about his work to his rich and famous friends gave Megumi's career the spark it needed to take off. Before Gojo, he had been treading water.
Satoru even asked him for a special piece on commission shortly after that. That had garnered even more lucrative opportunities for Megumi. Working on a film to create horror aesthetic on the set was one of his more recent endeavors outside of simply creating art.
The issue was the man was a ridiculous flirt. Megumi knew Satoru didn't mean a damn word of it. Didn't stop that sometimes he wished he did. Only sometimes. It's not like he didn't have eyes to see how attractive the man was, but his personality and his own didn't mesh well. Where he was reserved, Satoru was flouncy. Even if he gave the eccentric billionaire a chance, it probably wouldn't work.
Peering at the latest piece over his sunglasses, Gojo's mouth had fallen open. Megumi stepped up next to him, knowing that he couldn't ignore him. The man owned more of his work than anyone. He would even go so far as to call Satoru his biggest fan.
"My my, this is-" Satoru cut himself off after noticing Megumi. Sending a wicked smile, he continued. "You impress me. I always think you can't possibly get any better. But! You always manage to prove me wrong. Pray tell, what inspired this one?"
Megumi shook his head and shrugged. "You know I don't answer that. What do you think?"
Gojo had expected that answer if the teasing curve of his lips and roll of his eyes was anything to go by. "I was hoping I might catch you slipping, but I love this game. Let's me talk to you longer." Turning back to the piece, he considered, tilting his head this way and that. "I think you're trying to say there is a darkness in all of us — that if we aren't careful it can consume us. Am I close?"
A small smile graced Megumi's lips. "It's whatever you want it to be."
"Oh, but you're smiling! I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen that happen. That tells me I am close," Satoru steps closer, leaning into Megumi's space. "I bet you're absolutely gorgeous when you smile for real. One of these days, I'll see it."
Looking away, Megumi scoffed. "Sure. Maybe one of these days you'll be spot on. I'll admit you are close with this one."
Satoru gave him a grin. "I've been thinking. I would really love a portrait of myself done by you."
"Oh? You want me to make you into a monster?" Megumi asked jokingly.
"Yes, actually. I would love it."
Megumi cocked my head at him. "If you're serious, I'm open for that. I'm not currently working on anything since I finished this," he gestured towards the newest additions.
"Do I have to sit for it?"
"You don't have to if you don't want to."
"I want to," Satoru said quickly. "I'd love to see where you create."
Gojo told Megumi he was in town for the next two weeks before he had to be away for a short trip. Making some vague plans to start the portrait this weekend, they made some small talk. He made sure to flatter Megumi until he was almost blushing. Nobara thankfully saved him, pulling him away before that happened. He would never hear the end of it if Satoru ever succeeded.
Megumi was a fun little game for Gojo. Wouldn't it stop being fun if he won?
"Checking in. What's the social battery at?" She whispered as they walked to the edge of the room.
"I've got fifty percent left. How much longer do I have to be here?" He whispered back.
"Under two hours. Take a break and come back," Nobara suggested.
Right. Megumi really could use a cigarette. He only ever really smoked at events like this, needing an excuse to step away. Or when he needed a break from working. Or while he was working. Or after he ate. Okay, he smoked more than he wanted to admit.
He made his way towards the back door, slipping through employee corridors and past storage rooms. In the inner pocket of his oversized jacket, he fished out a smoke and put it to his lips. Finally getting away from the prying eyes and the quiet whispers of people as they passed judgement on the parts of himself he put on canvas, Megumi sighed in relief.
Taking the first drag eased some of the tension in his shoulders. Looking down the alley behind the gallery, he shifted on his feet, wishing for a bench.
He wasn't even halfway through his cigarette when someone wrapped their arms around him, dragging him back against their body tightly. A cloth went over his face, held firm by a large hand. One of his arms was pinned to his side by the arm wrapped around his torso. Dropping his smoke out of surprise, he was lifted off the ground. The smell of the cloth over his face was a little sweet, making him panic; wasn't chloroform said to smell sweet?
Megumi started kicking and screaming, fighting back with his only free arm, trying to tear at the arm over his face. Whoever it was came prepared. There were thick layers over the attackers arms to stop any scratching. In his periphery, he saw a mask over the head of the assailant. So far Megumi was doing nothing but flailing uselessly against whoever had him. The man laughed — laughed — behind him, his bigger frame easily man-handling Megumi.
"I told you I was going to be here tonight. You must have wanted to get caught alone."
The voice didn't sound right, like he might have been using something to cover it. A voice changer.
Screaming harder behind the cloth over his face, Megumi started feeling woozy. Things were... losing sharpness, sight getting blurry...
His thoughts became syrup, even as he continued to struggle uselessly. Megumi's feet dragged beneath him as he barely reached the ground, the man taking him somewhere. He saw a van sitting at the opening of the alleyway.
If I end up in there, I'm done for.
Even through the sluggishness of his brain, he knew that his chances of survival dropped if he were to be taken to a second location. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let himself get taken.
Megumi's pathetic attempts at self preservation didn't stop, but the man who had him never faltered. He tried elbowing the man behind him, making contact with his side. There was a grunt and the grip loosened just enough for Megumi to slip his other arm free. He pulled at the hand over his face. He needed air if he didn't want to pass out.
The sound of someone shouting started, followed by more voices. Megumi reached behind himself and smacked at the man's head. He wriggled in the hold around him harder. Finally, he was released. His legs folded under him, weak from the effects of the chloroform.
Eyes watering and coughing, Megumi tried to crawl away. The attacker tried to grab him again, so he turned on his side to kick out. Landing a solid hit with his foot straight to the man's gut, the assailant stumbled back, almost falling over. He looked over Megumi's head and saw something behind him that made him change his mind about trying again.
There was a sound of rapid footsteps — a car peeling away — and then Megumi was looking up at strangers, stars twinkling behind them in the night sky. People who had seen what was happening and had stepped in.
Saviours.
Taking a deep breath of clean air, he began shaking, the adrenaline still thrumming beyond the effects of the chloroform. There were things being said, questions. He couldn't focus for a moment. Someone said something about the police and an ambulance.
"Oh my god!"
Megumi recognized Nobara's voice amidst the others. Someone helped him sit up, putting his back against a wall. A barrage of flashing lights hit his eyes that were still trying to readjust.
Great, his attempted kidnapping was going to be 'trending' by morning. How fun for Megumi.
Starting to regain his senses, mind waking back up slowly, his hands shook as he gathered himself. He clutched them in his lap together tightly to try and stop it. Nobara put her jacket out in front of him, trying to cover him from getting more pictures taken during an extremely vulnerable moment. Politely she asked everyone to give him some space. Most obliged, but some she had to bark at before they got the hint.
She deserved more than a 'thank you' for this.
"Megumi, what the hell happened? You barely even stepped out," she asked quietly.
His throat was scratchy. He couldn't answer.
Several of the staff for the gallery came out, helping Megumi up and taking him inside. He was put in a break room of sorts — stiff chairs, plain table and a microwave. Once sat, he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one with shaky hands. No one told him not to. Maybe they felt bad.
"It was him, from the letters," Megumi croaked out after a couple of drags, addressing Nobara. "He spoke to me. He had a fucking voice changer, but he said he told me he would be here."
"God, okay. The police are on the way. The staff is shutting down the exhibition early," Nobara said quietly, hand on his shoulder.
"He almost fucking got me. I almost fucking-" Megumi choked, the fear turning into acid in his stomach. "I was alone for two minutes. I didn't think-"
Megumi refused to cry right now. It was just the crash from adrenaline — the fear of what might have happened to him — was quickly turning into a mess of emotions. He sat still, focusing on inhaling more smoke and the scuff-marks on the tiled ground.
The police and EMT's arrived shortly after. Witnesses talked to the officers about what happened while the first responders looked Megumi over. He wasn't seriously hurt in anyway and refused to go to the hospital. They left first, advising him to go if he felt this way or that.
Then it was just Megumi and a field of questions.
Did you see him? "No, he had a mask over his head."
Did you recognize his voice? "No, he disguised that, too."
Was there anything familiar about him? "I don't know."
Did you recognize the vehicle? "It was a standard soccer mom van, a light blue."
"Huh," one of the officers said at that information. "Hang on."
Megumi watched him go, talking into his radio. Another officer sat and crossed his arms.
"Have you considered a security detail? A body guard?" He asked.
Megumi was taken aback. No, he hadn't considered those options.
"I didn't think it was this serious. The letters are uncomfortable but..." Megumi answered honestly. "I didn't think he would try and... take me."
In other words, Megumi had been stupid.
The first officer came back. "I knew the vehicle description sounded familiar. A van like what you described was reported stolen just yesterday. An A.P.B. was put out for it. I remembered it because I couldn't understand someone stealing a van like that."
Great. So the only detail he had was a dead-end, too.
Nobara brought up the letter he had received that morning.
"Why didn't you make a report?" One of the officers asked.
Megumi bit back a snarl before answering, "Because I made a report months ago and I was told there wasn't shit to be done. Why would I waste my time?"
After they had taken their leave, he was left sitting there with Nobara and some of the staff that had stayed behind. A jittery feeling stayed, zapping his bones and making him twitch.
Whether it was the adrenaline crash or after-effects of being exposed to chloroform, he didn't know.
One thing he did recognize was the itch under his skin to create something.
The manager of the gallery came in, offering apologies that she didn't need to. Megumi stopped her. This wasn't her fault.
"I do have a recommendation," she offered. "A couple of guys who used to work security here are doing body-guard work now, I hear. Would you like me to give you information for the agency they work for? I'm sure they have plenty of people that might be able to assist you while this terrible situation gets sorted."
Gets sorted — like this was a mess in a drawer. Megumi's eyes narrowed.
"That would be great," Nobara chimed in, taking a card from the woman. "Thank you so much. I'll be making a call tonight."
His head whipped to her. Why wasn't he being consulted about this?
"I didn't agree to that," Megumi grumbled, feeling slightly affronted.
"Oh? You got a better idea? I think it's necessary after what you just went through, idiot. Don't be stubborn about this," Nobara shot back.
Feeling scolded, he knew there wasn't a real reason to argue about it. Megumi was almost taken who knows where and- and-
Megumi shut down that line of thinking. He knew what would have been waiting for him. It was clear in every letter what this psycho wanted. He hadn't known just how badly until now. He had taken it seriously, but not seriously enough.
So he relented. "Yeah, okay."
*-*-*-*-*
Safely back home behind a locked door, Megumi put his head against it and sighed. The itch to create had not gone away. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep right now anyway, so he might as well do something productive.
In the studio, he sketched a couple of drawings of the same thing. A hand with a mouth. Over and over until he felt he finally got it right — the tongue obscenely long, the teeth sharp, fingers slightly curled towards the viewer. Reaching up from a pool of darkness like it might reach out from the page itself. Why this particular image, he wasn't sure. It was just something he kept seeing behind his eyelids.
Maybe it was how violating it felt when his stalker had that cloth of chloroform against his mouth. It had potential. Megumi might try and put it to canvas. It was stuck to the wall next to his other ideas.
Putting the pen down after several hours of non-stop sketching, he turned the lights out and padded over to his bedroom. Where the studio was his safe haven, his room was literally just for sleeping. The difference in decor was stark. Megumi had a singular succulent plant in his bedroom and kept it neat and tidy. The studio barely had an inch of wall that wasn't covered and the desk was cluttered with supplies and ashtrays.
Megumi should probably do something about that.
Sitting with his phone on his bed, he looked up his own name — Megumi Fushiguro — refreshing the page a couple of times. There were already several articles. Tasteless headlines such as 'Nightmare Artist Narrowly Escapes Own Nightmare' and other such trite shit. The photos they had gotten of him were in every article. He looked unfocused and afraid.
This might be the first time the public gets to see something other than his resting bitch face.
Megumi tossed his phone onto the charger and shoved it away, slowly falling into an uneasy sleep. It was probably because he wasn't actually sleeping very deep that he woke up to a light knocking sound. Confused, he reached for his phone. It was damn near three in the morning. Who would be knocking at a time like this?
The doorbell buzzed.
That's when it hit Megumi. He woke up much more forcefully now, all the sleepy fog leaving his mind.
Quietly, he shifted off of the bed and started for his dark living room. He could see two shadows along the small strip of light at the bottom of the doorway where a small space existed — like feet planted just on the other side. Someone was standing there. The shadows shifted slightly. Megumi's breath caught in his throat, heart banging around in his chest like it wanted out.
There was a light scratching, like they were dragging their nails up and down the door on the other side. It might as well have been Megumi's spine for how badly it sent chills down it.
Lifting his phone, he started dialing the emergency line.
"I know you're awake, Megumi," a voice on the other side of the door said. The voice changer was still being used. Even muffled by the door, he could tell that much.
The voice startled Megumi so badly that the phone fumbled from his hands. The sound of it hitting the floor was loud in the quiet of his flat. There was no doubt the man on the other side heard it, too. For no reason other than panic, Megumi slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to quiet a noise that wasn't coming from there.
"I can hear you. Going to call the cops again? I just want to talk."
Dropping to his knees to reach for the phone, his eyes stayed glued to the door. Megumi was starting to shake. He picked it up and dialed the emergency number again. The ringing was loud even to his ears. What did it matter? The stalker already knew he was in here. That he was awake.
A loud dramatic sigh came from the other side. "If that's how you want to play this."
On the phone, a voice called out, "What's your emergency?"
Quietly, Megumi whispered into the phone where he was and what was happening. When he got to the part about a man standing outside of his door, the perpetrator started banging on it. It thundered loudly in the quiet dark of the room. Megumi practically squeaked, the suddenness of it catching him off guard.
The person on the other line seemed to hear the banging, too. They said they had someone en-route and to stay on the line. He set the phone down on the floor, still crouching there.
When the man on the other side of the door started banging again, Megumi got on his feet.
"Who are you?!" He shouted.
It might be reckless, but his anger was beginning to override the fear. How dare this person fuck with him like this? Who were they to make him feel this afraid in his own home?
The banging stopped. "A connoisseur."
What? That didn't answer shit. "What do you want?!"
"You."
The fear Megumi was experiencing went deeper, echoing out of some primeval part of himself.
Run — his mind told him. But I have nowhere to go.
The voice on the phone was telling him not to engage, so he stopped, clamping his lips together.
"I'll see you soon, Megumi."
The shadows underneath the door moved away. Megumi let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He dared not move an inch until the cops banged on the door, announcing themselves. Shakily, he got to his feet and wobbled to the door. Three of them entered. They told him several more were looking around the building for who had harassed him. For the second time in less than twelve hours, Megumi gave another statement.
They said one patrol would stay near and do a stake-out until the morning. They gave him a card with a detective's information — apparently the case had been officially assigned to one after the exhibition. It made Megumi feel a little better, but there was no chance he was getting any sleep for the rest of the night.
Not knowing what else to do with himself, he turned the TV on, the illumination casting shadows around his living room. The volume was on low but he wasn't really watching or listening anyway. He stared blankly at the screen, eyes darting to the door frequently. He watched the crevice at the bottom, scared of seeing something but more afraid of missing it.
When the sun came up, the TV turned off.
Hungry, Megumi fumbled around in his kitchen. He wasn't able to cook much but he could do eggs. It was like his nerves had been shocked — he was missing things with his eyes until he looked for them a third time, dropping them when he finally did get ahold of them. By the time he had finished, it felt like he had gone through an entire test of will. A fucking trial.
Halfway through eating his eggs, Megumi abandoned them on the kitchen island. Going into the studio, he set up another canvas.
Megumi poured it out. A small door at the top center of the canvas — a looming shadow standing fully manifested and upside down from beneath it — coming out from the bottom, getting larger. The angle was off-putting, making it seem like something was closer than it was. For it just being an outline, Megumi loved it.
Helpless, cornered, uncertainty, desperation. He pushed it out, panting as he released the night out from his soul. For the first time ever, he used color. Red eyes. He didn't know where the inspiration came from. Megumi was only halfway finished. He needed a break.
He couldn't stop.
Megumi's phone started buzzing, finally catching his wrist, stopping his hand from going back to the canvas. It was Nobara.
"Hey, there are rumors online about your night. Care to enlighten me?" Nobara said from the other line.
He stared at the red eyes towards the bottom of the canvas. "Um, what rumors are going on, exactly?"
"Ahem, let's see," Nobara started dramatically. "According to some reporter, police were seen at your building in the middle of the night. The rodents were camping you out after all that drama, you know? According to them, there were quite a few police. It's being speculated that the kidnapper from the gallery might have come back. Is any of the true?"
Megumi was getting breathless. "That's all true."
There was a pause on the other line. "I'm coming over. I'm bringing Maki with me. Have you eaten?"
His brain stopped at that. What time was it even? "A while ago. I've been painting."
"Painting? Really?" Nobara said, sounding fed up. "I'll be there in a few. I've already called that agency that was suggested to us to get you a body-guard. We have a meeting with them at three this afternoon. That's less than two hours from now. Get ready."
With that, she hung up.
Sitting in some kind of limbo for a moment, Megumi decided he needed a smoke. He opened the window of his studio and sat on the ledge, looking down the fire escape. Blowing the smoke out, he started looking down at the road. His eyes were looking at the few baby blue cars driving by, dismissing them when they weren't a van.
Would the psycho even have the same vehicle, or had he stolen another one? Shaking his head, Megumi closed the window and got cleaned up and ready.
Hair dripping from his shower, Megumi opened the door for Nobara and Maki when they arrived. There was a bag of food in Nobara's hand. Before she could start dishing it out, Maki asked for his phone. Not sure why she wanted it, he obliged and handed it over.
She was going through it like she was searching for something. A hissing noise left her as she found whatever it was that she had been digging for.
"You've got a tracker app on your phone. It looks like it was installed about six months ago," Maki said, showing Megumi something on the screen as she handed it back to him. "It was disguised as a secondary messaging app."
Nobara exhaled loudly. "That means it's someone you know. Or, at least, someone that you've come into contact with already."
"Well get it off!" Megumi shouted, panicked and throwing his phone. It tumbled to the ground.
"Relax, I'll do that right now. I'm going to make sure there aren't other ones hidden on here as well," Maki huffed, picking up his phone.
Megumi guessed having a cousin who worked in ethical hacking was a good thing to have at a time like this. She would have an idea of what to look for. But why were they having to look for it in the first place? Someone that he's already met? Someone that had gotten a hold of his phone and downloaded something without him even noticing? Concentrating on his breathing, he swallowed past his anxiety.
"Done. There was only the one but better safe than sorry," Maki said, handing the phone back once again.
Megumi barely wanted to take it, feeling betrayed by the damn thing.
Nobara made sure Megumi ate, but she wasn't making it easy. Pulling up every article and reading the headlines to him as he choked down the food she brought was evil. He glared at her but she kept going.
"And you didn't even have the decency to call me or anything. I had to hear from a million different news outlets trying to get a fucking statement out of you. I told the one that you have an interview with already for the movie premiere that they are allowed only a couple of questions about it. But you know... I thought I was more than just your agent. I've been friends with Maki for years, which means I'm basically your cousin, too," Nobara finished, scoffing. "Hurry up, we have to leave if we want to make your appointment on time."
Scarfing the rest down, Megumi went back into the studio to grab his cigarettes. The two of them followed because Nobara wanted to see what was more important than calling her to tell her what happened. Maki, because she was interested in what fucked up shit her cousin was painting. The two of them gaped at what he had on the canvas so far.
"You used color," Maki stated to obvious. "You never use color."
Nobara studied it before asking, "This one is worse than the last one. Got a name yet?"
Pausing, he looked at it again.
"'Connoisseur.'"