Art School. 1
Title: Art School
Author: glowstic
Rating: Mature.
Pairing: Rydon.
POV: First.
Summary: Brendon attends Art School to draw pictures of Ryan. (Naked.)
Disclaimer: This only happened in Spencer’s worst nightmare.
Author Notes: I’m just testing the waters.




Alabaster walls, plus the scent of chemicals and turpentine. Paint toxins ensnared my senses; a brief wave of nausea hit me square in the head as the classroom started buzzing with chatter. More students shuffled in and took seats on the stools arranged in a circular formation around a center platform. The air was electric with first day jitters, the excitement of starting fresh. University. I kept to myself and turned up the volume on my headphones, trying to suspend all of my nervous energy with a tapping foot.

From the door to the left, a thin boy wearing a red robe strolled in, slowly, cautiously, followed by a middle-aged female with flowing brown hair and bright yellow shoes. He stood to the side, as she took to the platform and smiled at us, expectantly.

“Welcome to Drawing II. My name is Krys Vetter, I’ll be your professor for this course. I graduated from the University of the Arts with my masters and I specialize…”

My mind was already wandering, over the mountains of his shoulders and his feather hair. His eyes jittered around the floor, above our heads, upon anything but us, we, the students. It took me a moment to get past his the bones of his cheeks, their protrusion, and the way his collarbones jutted so abruptly out of the neck of his robe, to realize that his robe served a purpose.

“You’ll start your first figure drawing today. Studying the human anatomy is a key aspect of first year drawing courses in college, because most of you haven’t yet had the experience. Ryan, here, is our model. We’ll be working only in pencil today; you can find a variety of lead pencils and erasers on the side table, just there,” said Krys, motioning to the left. “If you’ll just get out your drawing boards and set aside your hormones,” she said with a faint smile, “you may begin.”

I couldn’t move, I could hardly breathe. I’d forgotten about the parameters of figure drawing. Sometime between orientation and leaving home, I’d forgotten about it entirely. He stood on the platform, eyes averted. I watched my classmate’s faces’, hoping to see the growing apprehension in their eyes as well, the apprehension that I felt scalding in my brain, my cheeks, but no. They were all set to work like good little boys and girls; Ryan was just a work of art. A figurine, a model.

The robe slipped off of his shoulders and fell to the floor. To avoid looking at him, I went to the left table and grabbed my tools; an HB, a 2B, a kneaded eraser, paper. I moved my stool around so I was sitting just to the right of the platform and set up my drawing board against my lap, doing everything mechanically, as a robot. He is just a model… Repeated thoughts like raindrops danced in my head,human bodies. How painfully unfamiliar.

His body, his face. It was all an enigma. He glanced my way, hair shaded over his eyes as if he thought we couldn’t see his stare peering through it, watching our careful observation of his bare body.

He watched me watch him, my eyes glaring over his face, down his neck, to those pale, protruding collarbones. I could feel his tension. Past his nipples, to his stomach and his hipbones, my eyes delved, deeper, further, eating up his flesh with my vision. My hand trembled against my paper as I set my pencil against it and snapped out of my close observation, to take in a full view of his body. Of Ryan. The boy model. He was looking away at this point, so I stole a glance at his pelvis, as though it weren’t on display for the entire world to see. Biting my tongue, I tried to hide my innocence, tried to suppress the surprise that would have otherwise betrayed my lips, and forgot my nerves, trying to get into the zone. A chest, an arm, a bellybutton. Lines by hand connect on paper and I began to draw.