Work Text:
At this state, the leaves of the tree look like a blurry, sloppy mess of green and mismatched blue undersides. It's a shapeless blob of colors.
Kyle spares a glance to his left side. Connor is watching the painting like a hawk, fully enthralled. His eyes are wide, pupils bright and round as the moon. Kyle can feel the little puffs of breath as they slowly collide with his elbow. He's so amazed he's basically holding his breath.
Kyle cannot help the smirk that bubbles up within him.
He grabs a smaller brush, dips it into water, just a smidge. He feels Connor smile softly; not long ago, he stopped Kyle from drinking the paint water in the nick of time. For some reason, this was the pinnacle of comedy for him, but hey, Kyle would never complain over an opportunity to make Connor laugh.
He starts slowly, eyes sharp on where each line ends. The thing about lineart that many don't understand is that you keep your gaze firm on the end goal. Everything else risks hesitance, and nothing is more palpable in a piece than hesitant strokes. Why, he could never give Connor amateurish art as a gift, much less so a birthday one.
He's twists the brush ever so slightly, ensuring there's a thick, dark outline over the top of one leaf. Connor softly gasps at his side, and it takes Kyle an outstanding amount of willpower not to turn to look at him. He knows the effect very well; now, the deep stroke somehow makes this side of the tree look slightly tilted to one side, dimensional.
He's about to show off and preen even more by explaining the sheer difficulties of line weight to Connor, when the latter's phone starts buzzing for the fifteenth time.
Connor's face falls spectacularly, eyeing the number displayed on the screen with the level of wariness he usually reserves for particularly difficult criminals. Kyle, honestly, wishes he could smash the goddamned thing to pieces for that alone.
There's a certain level of guilt in Connor's eyes, a sense of doubt. He hesitates, making a half aborted move towards it.
Now, Kyle has learned enough about Connor by now to understand how to avoid being condescending... Yet.
"You know, you have birthday boy privileges", he starts, "It's fine if you don't answer."
Connor responds with a sigh. Gazing up at Kyle through bleary eyes.
Yeah. That won't do. "Connor. Seriously, you already said thanks to Mia. You don't have to do anything else." He says, with perhaps more force than necessary.
He doesn't have time to regret it, since Connor's voice fills the small gap of silence. "I just don't know how to deal with... That." He gestures towards the phone again, where Oliver's number flashes again.
Kyle has to literally bite his tongue to prevent himself from insulting the man. It's not like he's doing anything wrong by wanting to spend Connor's birthday with him...Surely, probably. Well, what matters is that Connor doesn't want to.
He's not even sure what happened, or if anything even happened at all. He's seen Connor surrounded by the family before, and it's not like he's unkind, though it's clear he gets frazzled quickly. He has multiple escape routes, excuses to leave early that he has confided with Kyle.
... He would never say this, but it reminds him so much of how Connor describes his mother's behavior. He's so much like her, really.
"Kyle?" Connor murmurs.
Shit. He zoned out.
"Man, give me that", he snaps, using a construct to grab and silence the phone in a single motion. "Like I said. Birthday boy privileges. You wanna stay here and watch me paint? You get it."
He's not sure what he's expecting, but the slight blush that creeps up Connor's neck and cheeks isn't it. His eyes flicker around the room briefly, landing on the bonsai painting.
"Sorry if I imposed." He says, pointedly refusing to look at Kyle.
A thousand thoughts swirl in his mind. None of them discreet, all off them too earnest.
Well, fuck it. Today's all about Connor feeling special isn't it?
"I actually. Uh– I was really happy that you would want to be with m– To spend the day with me, I mean."
It's not even an exaggeration. He did somersaults in the air when Connor asked if he could come over to watch him paint. Just the two of them.
I'm yours, Kyle thinks, as Connor slowly turns to looks at him. Smile absolutely radiant.
Man.
"Come 'ere. Come, come. You can paint this leaf." He says.
Connor's eyes go wide. "Kyle, I don't have your aptitude for this, I would just ruin the painting–"
"Nah man. Come on, I'll coach you."
Connor moves hesitantly, sitting primly alongside Kyle's stool. He makes no fuss as the latter takes his hand to show him the best way to hold the brush. If he thinks anything about the way Kyle rubs his thumb against the back of his hand, he doesn't comment on it.
"Okay, the most important thing about this is that you can't really hesitate, yeah?" He whispers. Connor nods solemnly, eyes fixated on Kyle.
"So. Uh. The thing is, you're not supposed to look at where you're going. I mean, I know that sounds stupid, but what you really need to is aim where the line would like–
"End. You need to aim where the end would be." Connor finishes.
"Yep," Kyle, says, popping the p. "Heh, it's actually a bit like shooting, isn't it?"
Connor shows that dimpled smile of his once more, and Kyle has to grip the stool with enough force for it to hurt, just to avoid moving forward.
Connor turns towards the painting, his expression shining with sheer determination. "No hesitance. Just like shooting" he repeats.
Kyle watches in wonder as his hands glide across the paper; moving quick, yet incredibly precise. He has a false start at one point, letting black paint accumulate too much as he tries to replicate the thickness of the line before it.
It's a bit messy, just a tad too rocky compared to the rest of the line work.
It's gorgeous.
Connor huffs out a big breath, letting the brush fall from his hands as if afraid of it touching anything else. He bumps his knee against Kyle's, expression vulnerable, expectant.
"You fucking rock, man." He manages to sputter out. Connor laughs in response.
"I didn't ruin it, did I?" He asks nonetheless. It makes Kyle's heart swell.
"No. It looks beautiful. Wanna–, wanna try another one?"
They lose themselves in a coffee shop painting, laughter filling the room as Kyle actually fucks up the painting for once by overshooting with the red shading.
Somewhere, the phone is buzzing. Another missed call, surely.
"It's okay, I'm the birthday man, right?" Connor murmurs, close enough to Kyle that his breath tickles his cheek.
"Yeah. Anything you want."