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Beneath The Surface
The closet feels darker than it should be. Like Yusuke should be able to see some outline of the door or some light fluttering in through the window, but no it’s pitch black.
He can’t see the walls around him, but he can feel them, he can’t stretch out his arms or legs without hitting them.
When he was younger the closet felt bigger, but now that he’s in that awkward part of puberty where Madarame is constantly complaining about having to buy him new clothes, it’s suffocating in a whole new way.
Yusuke would have thought claustrophobia was based on being able to see that you’re enclosed, but apparently not.
He steadies his breaths. Sensei will let him out soon, right? He can’t be that mad.
Yusuke had only wanted to keep a painting for longer, put on some finishing touches, it wasn’t ready for Sensei to display.
So what if he screamed, Sensei hadn’t been listening and–
And now he’s in this dark closet that’s both a void and much too small.
Yusuke leans his head back, and at some point falls asleep, because his neck is sore. Now that he’s had some time to calm down, he can admit to himself that he was lying.
Sensei’s real talent was his eye for appraisal; he'd been consulted on identifying forgeries before he became a big artist. Of course, he could tell Yusuke was lying, that he didn’t want Sensei to put it on display under a different name.
Yusuke didn’t care all that much the first time it happened, the twinge in his gut and being kept awake for nights thinking about what this meant for everyone who’d come through notwithstanding.
But, this one had been special. It had been a dream or a memory of going to the aquarium with his mother.
There was a touch tank, full of creatures the other kids were gathered around, and Yusuke was scared to go up for some reason.
He can’t remember anything more than the hazy outline of his mother, not what she said, just that she helped him calm down and slowly guided him over to the tank.
And… he thinks he remembers her laugh.
A manta ray had come up to meet Yusuke’s hand and splashed him a little, and Yusuke can picture in his mind her laughing and saying See, it likes you! but he doesn’t know if that really happened or if it was something he made up to cope with the fact that other kids could remember their moms.
It was a stupid thing to base a piece on, not with more and more students leaving and Yusuke having to pick up more of the slack. If he hadn’t wanted Madarame to take it, he shouldn’t have made it in the first place.
Yusuke pulls himself tighter and takes in a shaky breath. When Sensei lets him out, he’ll have learned his lesson.
Don’t tell Sensei “no.”
And don’t think about his mother when making art. Not if he wants what fleeting memories he has to stay his.