I love PoT!

Art Class

"Love isn't an emotion or an instinct -- it's an art."

-Mae West-

"Okay, class, today's art theme is…"

I sighed, propping my chin on my palm as I found myself zoning out for the zillionth time that day. Art class had always crowned my favourite's list, one of the few subjects I was really good at, but it was especially tough concentrating that day, the weather outside being so stupendous, the gentle breeze weaving among the auburn autumnal leaves into the window through my braided hair, the mosaics of sunlight dancing on my desk, the delicate sakura blossoms wafting in the air, the fragrant aroma of lapsing summer…

Another sigh of contentment slipped through my lips. Art was just that, wasn't it?

I continued gazing out of the window, admiring the splendour of the breathtaking vista, until I caught sight of the striking golden eyes reflected in the window glass. I started as the eyes stared back at me, and blushingly turned back to the assignment on hand, knowing full well that HE was watching me just now.

But how could I focus?

Absent-mindedly, I noticed that Hirota-sensei had inscribed the art theme of the day on the blackboard, but none of the words entered my system. Instead, I gawked at the piece of plain paper before me, an image gradually forming on the white canvas as I mused on. A pair of large almonds drew themselves in my mind, followed by the advent of gold-flecked amber irises. Involuntarily, my right hand levered itself, deftly tracing the outlines of the depictions in my mind. Cat-like eyes slanting acutely upwards at the end, a youthful jaw with subtly chubby cheeks and a pointed chin, ruffled hair, rather long, an adorable nose, and marginally pouting pair of lips completed the countenance.

I eyed my sketch critically, finally nodding my head in satisfaction. Next was the tricky part – colouring. I extracted a dark navy colour pencil, filling in the blank part of the hair, leaving spaces where I painted dark green next for highlights. His hair was just like that, so dark it was an attractive blue-green. I gasped, slapped my mouth, realising that I should have shaded his skin tone first. No matter, I would not taint this portrait if it cost what little was left of my sense of direction.

Painstakingly, I started on his complexion, fastidious not to pollute the light colour with the contrasting dark hair. He had such a nice tan, really, pastel like the skin of Japanese but darkened lightly by hours of tennis training under the blazing sun. Briefly, I wondered how he maintained fair unlike his seniors Momo-senpai and Kaidoh-senpai, and even Horio-kun. Could be his omnipresent baseball cap, branded by his initial 'R', which for some reason he never took off during his tennis matches. Although I had to admit it did add to his magnetism, or charisma, like Tezuka-senpai so technically defined.

That left me with his lips and his eyes. His lips, oh his lips. Many a days I had daydreamed about those lips talking to me, whispering sweet nothings to me, claiming my very own lips as his. Mentally I smacked myself for thinking such thoughts. Shaking those simulations out of my brain, I pondered which shade would be suitable. Aha! Pale pink would be perfect for those cool lips, the lips which uttered 'Mada mada dane' too many a time. Lips which could speed up my heartbeat whenever they moved.

Now the only features left were his eyes. Huge would be one word to portray them. Incredibly endearing, yet always sending glares and chills to everyone. In fact, the only time I saw those eyes soften was when he was looking at the feline in his lap, stroking its soft fur ever so tenderly. I remembered feeling a tad jealous that time that he was so much more affectionate to the cat than to a real human being. But it was stupid, envying a cat. Even I knew that. I smiled wistfully, tinting those spirited pupils with extremely light brown with a hint of gray, perfected with glints of gold. That was how his eyes normally looked, but I had seen those mesmerising depths glow with brilliant gold before, usually when he was facing a remarkably strong opponent on the tennis court. Now that I thought about it, I had seen the gleam in Tezuka-senpai's eyes before too. I giggled. Other than two years apart in age, they were so alike!

A soft click sounded as I placed the colour pencil on my desk. My drawing was complete, with colours and all. I beamed and leaned back on my chair, stretching my appendages, until-

"Ryuzaki-san, this is your work?" a tenor behind me sounded. I jumped. I had entirely forgotten that I was still in art class.

"Ahhh… Hirota-sensei! This… This, err, this…" I stammered. The heat was so intense on my cheeks I was pretty sure I would trigger the fire siren any moment.

"You know the theme for today is 'Love', right?"

My eyes widened some more. This… could not get… any worse…

"What?! I err… I…" Rivulets of perspiration made their way down my forehead.

"It is extremely well done, that I congratulate you."

It seemed like the Hirota-sensei was bent on torturing me. I just hoped that – no, scratch that – CRAVED that the topic of my art would not notice this commotion.

…which he did the moment I wished that…

"Hn?" he said and turned towards us. I stiffened, reddening so furiously my head was in danger of combustion. Reflexively, I waved my arms on my painting, desperately shielding it from his view.

'Should have known it wouldn't work, his eyes did not only resemble a cat's, they were as keen as a cat's too.

"Hhheehhh?" he drawled, eyes dilating as he perceived my drawing. I slumped. There was no hiding it any longer. I shivered, anticipating his reaction.

'Should have known what he would say next too.

"Mada mada dane."

What else could he have said? My head landed with a resonant thump on my wooden desk and, of course, the painting, mortification engulfing me alive. I could not face him after that. Ever. Again.

Why on earth did the theme HAVE to be 'Love'?

"Ryuzaki-san, if you don't mind moving your head a little, I would like to collect your assignment please."

Yeah, that proved the fact that the teacher was determined to embarrass me as much as possible.

I moved my head – not like I had much choice. The galling teacher swiped the paper off my desk with a clean sweep, flapping it in the air for awhile so Ryoma-kun could appreciate it further, and promenaded away with an infuriating smirk on his visage. I banged my head on my desk, yearning with my whole heart that the ground would just swallow me up.

The day passed by unceremoniously. Truthfully speaking, I was hardly paying attention. The humiliating scene kept replaying in my mind, as much as I endeavoured to shove it away. Before long, the bell rung, and I commenced my dreary walk home. At least then I could get as far away as possible from Echizen Ryoma.

And the voice I last wanted to hear halted me in my tracks.

"Ryuzaki!" he called out. My heart hammered.

"Y-Yes?" I stuttered, getting a bad premonition that I did not want to hear what was coming.

Instead, he just held out a scroll of paper to me. I raised an eyebrow.

"H-Hah?"

"Take it," he said, as aloof as ever. "Ja ne."

And with that he strode off, leaving a very bewildered me standing there idiotically holding a scroll of paper in my hand. When I finally gathered my wits, I unfolded the scroll.

I gasped.

Emblazoned across the paper were the words 'I love you too'. Yes, 'I LOVE YOU TOO'!

My lips irresistibly curved upwards.

I love art class...

I still love PoT!