#not mid game necessarily. i sketched this after i stopped playing last night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Snapshot.

Atsushi likes to draw in the park. He doesn’t realize how many times he’s drawn the handsome photographer until the man comes talking to him.

Kuniatsu / Artist Atsushi, Photographer Kunikida (also ft. bug lover kuni)

Word count : ~3K

Atsushi settles down on the grass, back against the tree, and crosses his legs. He sets his cardboard folder against his knees and opens his sketchbook.

It’s new, and empty, a gift from Kyouka for his birthday, along with the set of pencils he’s brought with him. He puts the metal box on the ground next to him, picks on and looks around.

It’s a sunny day, in April, so the weather is still somewhat cool and the park isn’t as packed as in the summer months. Atsushi takes in the tree line, in the high building behind it, the people walking, the guy sitting on a bench playing a video game, the blond man lying on his stomach, a camera in hand.

He starts to draw.

Broad strokes shape the trees, from gross shapes first until he moves on to smaller details, leaves and patches of grass and the shape of a man with a camera.

It takes over an hour for Atsushi to get to the point of drawing him, deciding last minute to add him to the scenery, and when he looks up to check if he has moved, he finds the man in the exact same position.

Utterly still, and a look of complete concentration on his face.

Atsushi draws him, smiling to himself, taking great care in the placement of his finger on the camera button, in the way his messy ponytail falls on his back, in the angle the sunlight makes his glasses glint.

About another hour later, about ten minutes after he changes page and takes on drawing a spider that crawled up his leg, the photographer sits and stretches, setting his camera around his neck. Then he walks to the man on the bench, who puts his video games in his trench coat.

They exchange a few words, and leave.

Atsushi tries to imagine what this man could possibly have photographed.

Bugs.

What Kunikida absolutely wants to photograph is close-ups of bugs.

It takes longer than he expects, but waiting is something he can do. His roommate is Dazai Osamu, so his patience is forged in fire, iron and exasperation.

The last bug close-up he takes is a caterpillar crawling its way to the nearest leaf, set right in front of his camera, and he has a pretty good shot of it eating.

When he is done, he sits back and stands, joining Dazai, who puts away his video game.

“Are you finished?” he asks, and Kunikida nods.

“I’m done.”

“Show me!” Dazai leans over to see the screen of his camera, almost knocking Kunikida off balance.

“Oi, be careful!” He huffs and turns the camera back on and opens the gallery, flipping through the different pictures he took during the last few hours.

There is, besides the caterpillar, a group of ants carrying bread crumb from where a family had picnicked for lunch. He shows him the ladybug as well, particularly proud of this one, as it's a picture of it as it takes off.

Several grasshoppers, a yellow butterfly and a bee.

Dazai looks over the pictures, and his nose wrinkles as he makes a face. “That’s gross, Kunikida, you could at least try to take pictures of more glamorous subjects.” He grins. “Like me.”

“Bugs are certainly glamorous,” Kunikida shoots back. “Unlike you, they’re an essential part of the ecosystem and are underappreciated. They need to be more recognized for the role they have in preserving our environment!”

Dazai sighs over-dramatically, draping himself on his shoulder. “Am I not an essential part of your ecosystem? Kunikida, you black-hearted man.” When Kunikida rolls his eyes, Dazai pulls himself straight again. “I’m only trying to help you. If the cute boy over there knew you took pictures of bugs—”

“The what now.”

“Don’t turn around,” Dazai orders, and Kunikida almost does as a reflex. Instead, he glances back to where Dazai is looking, to a (admittedly cute) white-haired young man sitting under the tree. “He’s been staring at you for an hour.”

“He’s drawing,” Kunikida hisses, starting to walk away. “This activity usually requires a lot of staring. He just happened to look in my general direction.”

Dazai doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “But you’re wrong. He was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai.”

The park is a good source of inspiration, Atsushi decides on the third day of drawing there. He changes his spot every time, looking for new sceneries and people to draw. There are a lot of critters he ends up doodling, from birds to bugs and a few squirrels.

He brings a hot drink with him today. The temperature has dropped during the night, and it’s pretty much cold, so there is no one in the park besides Atsushi himself — and the photographer.

Today he has a tripod and facing away from him, and it’s an angle Atsushi rarely draws anyone in, so he takes the opportunity to put it down on paper.

His friend is with him today too, and Atsushi plans to draw him as well, but he quickly forgets about him. He puts special attention in the angle of the photographer’s shoulders, well defined by the blue coat he’s wearing. It stops under his knees, mid-calf, and then Atsushi makes sure to draw the folds of the pants just right.

Once, the photographer makes a movement to turn away, seemingly in Atsushi’s direction. Atsushi ducks his head, pretending not to be watching.

Then he tries something new. He looks up, trying to guess what the man is seeing, what he is taking a picture of, and sketches it as well as he can. It’s not perfect, but it’s a fun game that he finds out he likes to play, for now.

Once he is done, he catches sight of a cat playing in the grass and changes his subject.

Maybe, he thinks, he should bring Byakko to the park with him, next time?

Kunikida comes back to the park often.

It’s not necessarily to take pictures of bugs, though he likes it, but he needs practice in taking pictures of larger sceneries and finding a focal point in it.

A subject, noticeable enough to draw the eye, placed in a way that makes it looks part of the larger picture rather that the focus of it.

He turns on his heels, and catches sight of the young man he has seen two days before — the one who, Dazai insisted, was looking at his butt. He’s sitting just on the line between shadows and sunlight, bent down, focused on his drawing, hair overshadowing his face.

His pen scratches at the paper, and he periodically looks up to the calico cat playing a few meters away.

When he does, the light hits his face just right.

Kunikida twists the head of his tripod and turns the camera in his direction, making sure to include the cat. The white-haired artist isn’t paying attention to him at all so, the next time he looks up at the animal, Kunikida snaps a quick picture.

He opens the picture folder and stares at it.

It’s perfect.

It’s not the only picture Kunikida takes of him.

“You’re turning into a stalker~" Dazai teases, poking his side, and Kunikida flushes.

“I’m not a stalker!”

“S—ure. It’s not your fault he is so photogenic, right?”

On the latest one, he is lying on the ground, legs swinging slowly as he draws a different cat. This one is black and white, and Kunikida saw it arrive with him. It’s probably his cat.

Over the next few days, it seems like every time Kunikida tries to take a good picture, this young artist is just there, in a corner, looking a natural part of the place. He zooms in on one of them as much as he possibly can before it turns blurry.

He is smiling here, wide enough to show some of his teeth, to make his eyes crinkle and shine.

Kunikida spends several second looking at it, at every details of his face he can make out, committing them to memory. Then, he duplicates the pictures and crops it.

That’s a smile he wouldn’t mind seeing up close.

God, he’s starting to sound like Dazai.

Next to him, Dazai’s obnoxious laughter only gets louder, and Kunikida would strangle him with his bare hands if not for the attention it would draw.

“I should apologize to him,” he decides suddenly. Because taking secret pictures of a stranger isn’t simply weird, it can come off as downright creepy, and Kunikida is not a creep. Because he’s started to look for this young artist on shots he’s definitely not on, and to zoom in on his face, and this is getting out of hands.

“You can’t!” Dazai can barely contain his glee. “He’s napping!”

Indeed he is, and Kunikida gives up. He huffs and settles on the ground to take more pictures of bugs, stopping all movement to wait for one to approach him.

A few minutes later, he finds himself nose to nose with the young man’s cat, who bops its face on the camera lens.

Resigned, Kunikida adjusts the settings and presses the button. The cat’s nose looks enormous on the resulting picture, it’s curious eyes wide, its face magnified. One it's taken he sits up and shows it too the cat.

“There,” he says. "Are you happy?”

It stares at the picture of itself, rubs its head on Kunikida’s hand until he gives it a good scratch, and leaves.

The cold has passed now, as the end of April nears, and more and more people come to enjoy the sunshine and warmer weather. Atsushi sees families and several dog walkers.

He sets Byakko upon the grass. “Don’t go too far,” he tells the cat, who flicks her black-tipped tail at him before ignoring him.

The photographer is almost facing Atsushi today, so he has to be more discreet while drawing.

He focuses on his face, this time. On the line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes, and the way he frowns where he’s focused. He adds in as many details as he finds, and the more he draws the more his eyes are drawn to him.

By the time he is done Atsushi feels like he knows this face by heart.

The photographer’s expression changes as he takes different pictures of crowds while Atsushi records them in his sketchbook as fast as he possibly can, stomach fluttering as he discovers the range of emotions this man expresses.

It’s wonderful practice, especially when his tall friend annoys him until he turns to him.

“Stop it, Dazai,” Atsushi hears him snap when the friend in question purposely waves in front of the camera to wave at him. He supposes the picture is ruined, because the photographer emits a loud noise of frustration. “Dammit, it’s all blurry now! Stop that, you useless waste of bandages!”

The sound attracts Byakko’s attention, and she wanders away from Atsushi. She curiously paws towards the pair until Dazai notices her and bends down to pet her.

She rubs her head against the man’s hand, before messing around, coming close to knock the tripod over. The sight it almost as Atsushi on his feet, but before he can Dazai looks up. His eyes catch Atsushi and he smiles, wide, like a Cheshire cat.

Atsushi’s face burns. He has been caught staring. To make it worse, Dazai tugs on the photographer’s arm and points to the cat, then to Atsushi. The man picks up Byakko and walks over to Atsushi with decisive steps.

He's mad at him, he thinks as he tries to read his face. He’s going to yell at him for staring or for letting his cat mess around his equipment.

The photographer stops right in front of him, and Atsushi realizes his work is in plain sight. He slams his sketchbook close, hoping he hasn’t noticed it — and the handful of drawings of his face all over the page.

“Is this your cat?”

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi says, standing up to take her. “I’ll be more careful with her —”

“Please do,” the man answers, handing her to him. “What is she called?”

“Byakko.” He scratches at her ears and sighs. “I’m really sorry, I figured the park would be safer for her than letting her out in the streets.”

“No harm was done.” His face smooths over as he notices Atsushi’s distress, as if trying to reassure him. “She came over to me yesterday as well, and got her picture taken for her troubles.”

“Really? Thank you for not—you know—” He shrugs. “Uh, I’ve seen you around? Several times. I’m Atsushi.”

“Kunikida, it’s a pleasure.” His eyes fall on the discarded sketchbook. “I’ve seen you here as well, you seem to be a prolific artist.”

“I try!” He sends him a weak smile. “That’s how you progress, right?”

“Of course. Practice makes perfect— you must be skilled.”

“I can show you?” Atsushi offers, cheeks fading to a light pink. “If you want?”

Kunikida nods. “I can show you some of my work as well, if you’d like.” He gestures back at where his camera is still set. “I’m a photographer.”

Atsushi picks his sketchbook up again and flips it to the previous pages, trying to find one he likes enough to show off. He’s never liked showing his drawings to anyone, but Kunikida doesn’t seem the kind of man who would laugh at him, and something like excitation bubbles in Atsushi.

Until he realizes just how many times he has drawn Kunikida in the past few weeks.

“Uh—” The sketchbook snaps shut again, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Would you look at the time! I should really head home!”

“What—”

It’s obvious, from Kunikida’s face, that he’s seen them. He glances from the sketchbook to Atsushi, who is currently stuffing his things in his bag as fast as he can.

“I can hear my mom calling me!”

It’s only after he offers to show Atsushi his work that Kunikida remembers just how many pictures of him are on his camera roll.

He is almost relieved when Atsushi runs away, because it would have been a lot to explain. He would probably think Kunikida is a creep.

“Or maybe not,” Dazai tells him, thoughtful. “You say you saw that he’s been drawing you? So, I was right, he was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai, I’m sure he didn’t draw my butt.” He sets up his camera and looks around.

“Shame, it's very nice.”

After three days of going back to the usual park, Kunikida finally resigns to the fact that Atsushi isn’t showing up anymore. Since then, all his pictures have been bland — incomplete — so Dazai suggested moving location.

This new park is larger than the previous one and different enough to give him new material. The trees are denser and clear-cut paths run through it. A fountain stands in the center, the water flowing with a soothing noise.

Next to him, Dazai flops down on the grass, staring up at the sky and pulls out his earphones. Kunikida takes a picture, mentally labelling it as “Dazai being a lazy ass, as usual”.

It's only half-hearted, because Dazai doesn’t have to come with him on his photographing endeavors, and some days Kunikida wonders why he comes at all. Besides, saying he doesn’t enjoy Dazai’s company would be a blatant lie, they both know it.

Suddenly, Dazai rolls on his side and takes one of his earbuds out. “Your favourite subject is here,” he points out. “Looks like someone had the same idea!”

Following his fingers, Kunikida finds Atsushi sitting near the fountain, scribbling in his sketchbook. He almost has his back to him, so he can’t see his face.

“You should—”

Kunikida doesn’t hear the end of Dazai’s sentence. He grabs his camera and walks towards him until Byakko, sitting by him, raises her head in his direction.

She stands and meows, attracting Atsushi’s attention, and he turns around. His eyes go wide as he sees Kunikida, and he stammers out something that sounds like “hello”.

“I would like to take a picture of you, please,” Kunikida declares, and Atsushi’s face turns into a deep, concerning red.

“Uh?”

He raises his camera. “You also don’t have to be embarrassed about drawing me. People watching — and drawing — is a strong hobby that can only lead to great progress in your art.” He pauses. “There are also several pictures of you I took without your knowledge and consent, I’m sorry. In my defence, you are often the only person who doesn’t move around.”

Atsushi looks a lot less panicked now that he knows Kunikida doesn’t hold anything against him, and laughs. “I hope you know how weird this sounds.”

“I’m aware.” His strict composure softens, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “So, can I take a picture?”

“Sure.” He sets his sketchbook down. “How would you like it to be?”

“Just a portrait.” He crouches to be on the same level as Atsushi, who is still sitting, and smiles as the camera is pointed to him.

It’s the first picture he takes where Atsushi is looking right at the camera, smiling at him, and Kunikida’s heart jumps in his chest. He sits on the bench, right next to Atsushi, to show him.

The young man leans over until their shoulders touch and stares at his own face, not unlike his cat did just a few days ago.

His cheeks are still pink when he pulls on of his uneven strand of hair behind his ear. “Could I see the other ones?” He gulps, and seems to gather the courage to add something else, twisting his hands: “I mean, I could show you mine—” his graphite stained fingers tap his sketchbook as he speaks “—and you can show me yours. Over coffee? Maybe?”

Kunikida blinks in surprise, taken off guard, but he smiles. “I would like that.”

#bsd #kuniatsu #kunikida doppo #nakajima atsushi #bsd kunikida #bsd atsushi #writing

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pebble-xo · 7 years

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The Secret (10)

prologue; part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine; part ten; part eleven; part twelve; part thirteen; epilogue.

You tried not to be hurt by Baekhyun’s rejection, to carry on as normal and focus your attention on Zoe, but when you were alone with nothing to distract you, your mind seemed to drift back to the moment he walked out of your apartment. That night, you cried for what felt like hours until you were empty, reflecting on the mess you’d made of your life. And then in the morning, you woke up to Zoe singing in her bedroom and pushed your feelings to the side.

Work was a good distraction. The latest project was a big one and it took up all of your mental space, leaving no room for thoughts of Baekhyun or his lips or his guilty expression before he slammed the door. You threw yourself in your sketches and tried to shut your old best friend out.

However, that was easier said than done when your daughter was constantly asking if he had called or texted. It was the first thing she said when she woke up and the last thing she asked when she went to sleep. You wished for nothing more than to just forget Byun Baekhyun and hide in the hole you had built for yourself. You were beyond embarrassed about kissing him like that, and if it had been anyone else you would have changed your phone number and hidden in your apartment with a bucket of ice cream.

But he was the father of your daughter.

Swallowing past the nervous lump in your throat, you lifted your phone and stared at the blank screen. Do you call? Do you text? It had been five days without hearing a word from him and you couldn’t help but feel like that was intentional. He probably didn’t want to talk to you but the person suffering the most from all this was Zoe.

You opened up your phone on Baekhyun’s contact, your thumb poised over the call button. However, in the last minute, you took the coward’s way out and clicked ‘message’ instead. Looking up around your quiet office, you ran a slow hand through your hair and exhaled loudly. What were you supposed to write?

“You are such an idiot,” you muttered under your breath, staring down at your phone while you waited for the words to come to you. “Why did you have to ruin everything and kiss him?” Throwing your phone down on your desk, you spun around in your desk chair and leaned your head back, your eyes closed in concentration.

Do you apologise? Do you admit you did something wrong? But then that’s where you got confused, because he kissed you back. Yes, he pushed you away but at first he was leaning closer.

Maybe you should just avoid the kiss altogether, pretend it never happened unless he brings it up. If you simply don’t mention it to him, there was a chance things could return to some sort of normalcy … right?

Halting yourself mid-spin, you grabbed your phone from your desk and took a deep breath. “Zoe’s been asking for you every day. Can she call you in half an hour?” You clicked send before you had a chance to overthink things and then you dropped your phone into your bag, gathering your things and leaving the office to go and pick up Zoe.

On the ride down in the lift, you tried everything to stop yourself from impatiently staring at your phone. You pressed the ground floor button about twenty times before the door had even closed. You tapped your foot irritably, the heel of your shoe clicking quietly in time with the mundane elevator music. However, all you could think about was your phone and whether or not he had text back.

He was probably busy, you told yourself silently. He was an international idol, most likely filming or recording or rehearsing or in an important meeting. Lack of an immediate response didn’t necessarily mean he was avoiding you.

No matter how you tried to rationalise it, your mind was still focused on whether Baekhyun had texted back or not. As the lift doors opened on the underground carpark, as you unlocked your car and climbed inside, all you could think about is your phone hiding in your bag on the passenger seat. Leaning your head on the edge of the steering wheel, you closed your eyes and calmed yourself with slow and deliberate breaths. This wasn’t you.

After a minute of relaxation, you opened your eyes and your panic had disappeared back into the darkness of your mind. You looked over at your bag, spotting your phone peeking out a little. The light in the top left corner of the screen was flashing blue … you had a message.

Keeping your emotions in check, you unlocked your phone and opened up the message. It was from Baekhyun!

“I’d love to,” he had replied.

You let out a loud sigh of relief. At least he wasn't completely ignoring you and Zoe.

###

As you drove back home, you looked at Zoe in your rear-view mirror, smiling at her videochatting with Baekhyun from the backseat. She was telling him all about her day, explaining animatedly the finger-painting she had created in her morning art class. “And I used all the fingers on my hand to paint the rainbow. It stretched across the whole sky,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

“That sounds amazing Zoe,” Baekhyun replied brightly through the phone. In your mind, you could picture his dazzling smile that resembled your daughter’s so closely. “Where are you off to now?”

You heard Zoe hum in deliberation. “I don’t know,” she answered cutely, your gaze meeting her confused look in the mirror. “Where are we going Mummy?”

You pulled up to a red light and looked over your shoulder at her. “You have taekwondo tonight,” you told her with a warm smile before you focused your attention on the road again. Zoe had a busier life than you, between her taekwondo and ballet and her playdates with her newfound friends. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with your daughter’s hectic schedule.

“Oh yeah, I remember,” she muttered, looking back at your phone. “What are you doing tonight Daddy?” her cute voice rising at the end of her question.

“I’m going to Japan next week so I’m working late tonight rehearsing,” he explained to her slowly. Japan? This was news to you.

Zoe squealed excitedly. “Japan?! I want to go to Japan. Mummy can we go to Japan?”

“Not right now sweetie,” you responded, gripping the steering wheel a little bit tighter. It was all very well Baekhyun jetting off to other countries for his career but that was his life. It wasn’t a life you wanted for Zoe and you didn’t want him to tempt her with it. “Daddy’s not going for a holiday. He has to work,” you explained quickly, just as traffic started to move.

“It would be nice to see you before I go. Do you have any plans after school tomorrow?” Baekhyun asked, speaking louder so you knew the question was directed at you as well as Zoe.

You pursed your lips as you focused on changing lanes, trying to remember if Zoe did something on Wednesdays. “You have ballet on Wednesdays, don’t you Zoe?” you asked, peeking a look at her through the mirror.

“Daddy could take me to ballet,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with hope and excitement. You didn’t want to be the one to crush that.

“Is that alright with you?” Baekhyun asked loudly again. “I can pick her up from school, take her to ballet and then we can meet you afterwards for dinner?” he suggested, his words making your heart leap like a little schoolgirl. He was choosing to spend time with you. That was a good thing right?

Without even looking, you knew your daughter was staring at you with pleading eyes. She was so desperate to spend time with Baekhyun and bond with him in the way she had always wished to. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deprive her any more than the five years you had held your secret.

You sighed softly. Were you always going to be so easily manipulated? “Alright then,” you conceded, grinning to yourself as Zoe jumped up in her seat and screamed loudly. “I’ll text you the address of her school and her ballet class.”

“I’ll pick a place to eat and text you the address too,” he replied through the phone. “I’ve got to go back to rehearsals now Zoe but have fun at your taekwondo class. I’ll try and call you later before you go to bed,” he said, making Zoe bounce again with happiness.

Waving into the camera, your daughter smiled cutely. “Good luck rehearsing Daddy,” she cheered back, continuing to wave until Baekhyun had hung up.

“Are you happy now?” you asked, checking your mirror to see what she was doing now.

By the looks of it, she was just playing one of the many games you had downloaded to keep her occupied when she needed to be. “Very happy!” she squealed loudly, beaming while she nodded her head.

At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

###

Suddenly for the first time in years, you had actual free time. Work was finished, Baekhyun was looking after Zoe and you had a couple of hours to yourself to spend however you so wished. It was a luxury you had forgotten about because there were only a handful of people you trusted Zoe with. You thought you would love it, a little bit of time where you could turn off ‘mum mode’ and just relax but your thoughts easily drifted back to Zoe, wondering what she was doing and if she was having fun.

You decided to make good use of the time without your daughter, wandering around the big shopping centre with Christmas on your mind. Throughout the years, it had been hard to get Christmas presents and keep them hidden – thank goodness for online shopping. However, you had missed walking down the aisles and picking out presents slowly.

When it was finally time to meet Baekhyun and Zoe at the restaurant, your arms were filled with bags of toys. Admittedly you may have gone a little overboard but you only had one daughter – a very special one too.

As you walked out of the department store, heading into the direction of the carpark, an overwhelming smell halted you in your tracks. You stopped in the middle of the fragrance department, searching for where the scent was coming from. It was so familiar, bringing about a wave of nostalgia but you couldn’t remember how you knew it. The memory was on the edge of your brain but still clouded over.

A shop assistant stepped into your field of vision with a big grin on her face that every person in retail wore. “Are you alright Miss?” she asked with mock sincerity that made you want to roll your eyes.

“I was just wondering what that scent is,” you mused out loud, feigning a smile for her before looking at the tall stacks of perfumes.

Her grin stretched even further, if that was even possible. “That’s our new fragrance. It was discontinued for a couple of years but the company decided to bring it back after popular demand.” The shop assistant moved to a smaller stand and held up a square-shaped bottle with a black crown decorating the lid.

The cogs in your head clicked into place and you suddenly remembered why the scent had been so familiar. It was the very same perfume you had bought Baekhyun in high school as a Christmas present. He would always wear it to band practice, thinking it would make him a rock god. It used to drive you crazy, teasing your senses and luring you in. Suddenly you were looking at Baekhyun in a more mature light, and you wanted him.

Lifting the tester to your nose, you inhaled a strong draw of the perfume. It transported you back to being a teenager, foolishly getting into trouble without a care in the world. All those times spent in secret places, feeling his lips peppering kisses along your jaw, feeling his soft touch find the bare skin hidden under your uniform - his perfume was all over you like a second skin. The scent would linger around you even once you’d parted, a persisting reminder of the boy you loved although he could never love you back.

“I’ll take one please,” you said softly, replacing the tester on the shelf and following the shop assistant to the till. With one swipe of your credit card, you took the perfume and placed it securely in your handbag, leaving the department store with a nostalgic smile on your face.

###

The restaurant Baekhyun had chosen was far too luxurious than what you were used too. Dimly lit and filled with people in expensive clothes, you felt extremely out of place as you trailed behind Baekhyun and Zoe into one of the private dining rooms. A shy waiter pulled the chair out for you and handed you a thin leather bool as the menu. It was such a weird experience for you, who was used to eating in places where the menu was on the wall and you had to shout to give your order. When you looked over at Zoe, sitting on five or six cushions to be able to reach the table and staring at the red velvety wallpaper with wide twinkly eyes, she looked like royalty in her pink tutu dress.

Clearly used to such environments, Baekhyun took the lead and ordered drinks for you all: a juice for Zoe and sparkling water for you and him. The waiter smiled and took the unnecessary glasses off the table, leaving the three of you alone.

While you read through the fancy menu, you noticed there were no prices. Immediately your eyes jumped to Baekhyun, who was watching your face with an unreadable expression. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it. “I invited you to dinner tonight. It’s on me.”

“How can you order anything when you don’t know how wallet-breaking it’s going to be?” you muttered quietly as you looked back at your menu, earning a snicker from Baekhyun.

Quickly the waiter returned with your drinks and took your order. After a moment of panic, you opted for the pasta while you chose something similar for Zoe, thanking the waiter as he swiftly left the room. “How was your ballet class little one?” you asked, leaning over to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“It was really fun,” she exclaimed brightly, her eyes lighting up with an added sparkle. “Miss Park said my spins are getting better and I can almost do the splits. Daddy even said I’m a better dancer than Kai.” She slapped her hands on her cheeks in embarrassment and ducked her head while Baekhyun laughed into his water.

“I’ll show him the video I took of you. I’m sure he’ll be very impressed Zoe,” he promised with a flash of his dazzling smile. Another promise – would he be able to keep this one?

His words made Zoe slip off her chair and hid under the table out of shyness. To distract her, you asked her about her day at school. This perked her up, her head appearing over the edge of the table. “In the morning we practised our handwriting and Mrs Moon said I’m a lot better,” she explained excitedly, climbing back onto her chair with a little help from you.

“That’s because you’ve been practising at home, isn’t it?” you replied, pulling her chair closer to the table so when the food arrived, she was less likely to drop any on its way to her mouth.

Zoe nodded, slowly lifting her juice off the table. “And then in the afternoon we did some painting and then some singing. Me and Elle got to go to the front of the class and sing a duet but we kept giggling.”

“You and Elle are trouble when Mrs Moon lets you work together,” you laughed. According to Zoe’s teacher, the two best friends were extra mischievous when they were left to a task together.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Baekhyun squirming uncomfortably in your seat. Only then did it dawn on you that it may be awkward for him to see you and Zoe so close. He was now a part of yours and Zoe’s life but for years he hadn’t, and that was a lot of catching up to do.

Just looking at him brought back the memories of the last time you saw him, the kiss and everything that came after it. You felt shamefully nervous, your stomach churning anxiously. “When do you leave for Japan?” you asked, biting your lip to hold back the questions you really wanted to ask.

“We leave on Monday,” he answered, screwing his face up in thought like Zoe did when she had to think really hard about something. “We fly to Osaka first and have three concerts there and then we fly to Fukuoka for another three.”

You whistled under your breath. “That sounds tiring,” you murmured quietly.

Baekhyun gave you a warm smile and opened his mouth to say something, but Zoe beat him to it.

“When will you be back from Japan?” she asked, licking the juice off her lips. “We’re supposed to go on an adventure!” Her lips pulled into a pout and you frowned. Just how many promises had Baekhyun made?

“Don’t worry Zoe,” he told her, leaning over to ruffle her hair. “I’m gone for just over a week and then I’ll be back in Seoul and we can go on the adventure we planned.”

This made you frown even more. “What adventure? Are you two up to no good?”

The pair of them snapped their attention to you with cute and seemingly-innocent smiles, although you knew better than to trust them. “Zoe and I wanted to go on a trip, with you of course,” Baekhyun started to explain while your daughter just giggled into her hands. “On the next weekend I’m free, we wanted to go on a surprise adventure,” he continued, although he was being very vague with specifics.

“And am I allowed to know about this surprise adventure?” you asked, tilting your head in order to try and read your daughter’s face.

She was pursing her lips tightly, trying not to give anything away. “It’s going to be a surprise Mummy!”

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. “You both know I hate surprises.”

“That’s why this is going to be an even better adventure,” Baekhyun replied with a smirk, giving you a wink over his glass of water. “I promise you will enjoy it,” he added. Another promise.

Giving them a mock smile, you pushed your chair back and made your excuses to go to the bathroom. “I’ll leave you both to your scheming then,” you teased, leaving the private room into the main part of the restaurant, skirting around the edges for the equally lavish bathroom. Even with the lights dimmed, you felt like everyone was looking at you, knowing you were the odd one out in a place like this.

When you arrived back, dinner had been served and conversation was slow as you all devoured your perfectly cooked dishes. Baekhyun talked about his time with EXO and all the great things his career had allowed him too. Your daughter listened to every word in awe, leaning further and further into her bowl.

However, he didn’t just talk about himself all of dinner. He bombarded both you and Zoe with questions about what your lives were like before you moved to Seoul: the countryside, living with your grandfather. He listened with focused attention on Zoe as she described all the animals that lived on the farm at the end of her great grandfather’s garden.

Once dinner (and dessert) were finished, you sat back and noticed Zoe’s eyes were beginning to droop. “I think little one needs to go home,” you said softly to Baekhyun.

“I’ll go and pay,” he replied, slipping out of the room.

Pushing your chair back, you crouched down on the floor beside Zoe who was trying to hide her yawn behind her hand. “Come on little one, it’s time to go home,” you told her, holding out your arms for her if she wanted to be carried.

Zoe was quick to shake her head in denial. “I’m not tired,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes and attempting to perk herself up.

Despite her words however, she didn’t put up too much resistance as you plucked her from her chair and cradled her against your body. “Of course you’re not sweetie,” you replied in a hushed voice, combing your fingers through her hair and feeling her body relax into yours. You picked your bag up from the back of your chair and moved for the door, just as Baekhyun opened it from the other side.

“Is she asleep?” he asked, walking around the table to collect his coat.

“Fighting it,” you replied with a little laugh.

Baekhyun shrugged into his coat and pulled his collar up to cover his cheeks. Then he held the door open for you and led the way out of the restaurant. You kept close to his heels, eager to be out of such a fancy place with eyes burning into you. Out in the fresh air, your anxiety eased off and you felt better.

You turned to Baekhyun, pointing behind you. “I’m parked down there,” you murmured awkwardly, hiding a part of your face in your daughter’s hair. The smell of her strawberry shampoo smelt like home and immediately calmed you.

“I’m parked that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

So this is where you parted ways.

Pinching your lips together, you swung from side to side and contemplated whether you should say the questions you had been dying to answer. “About what happened in my apartment, I’m sorry,” you started, wanting to say more but being cut off.

Baekhyun took a small step closer, a tiny gap of air between you both. “You don’t need to apologise,” he murmured softly, reaching out and folding his fingers around your hand, squeezing it tight. “I wanted that kiss to last forever, but I also need things to make sense in my head first,” he explained, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand.

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused at his words and dizzy from how close he was.

He flashed his breath-taking smile, stopping your heart in its beating tracks. “I want to be a good father for Zoe first. That’s my first priority and I need to find the balance in my life where I can do that before I do anything else. Zoe should come first,” he proclaimed, warming your heart and yet crushing it too.

But he was right. Zoe should, and would, always come first.

“I understand,” you breathed, kissing the top of Zoe’s sleeping head. As much as it hurt, you knew it was best for Baekhyun to figure out how to be a good father. This meant as much to her as it did to him.

Reluctantly, he stepped back until your hand slip out of his. “Tell Zoe I’ll ring her after school tomorrow,” he promised, waiting for you to nod before he slowly backed away, waving until eventually he reached his car and disappeared into the night.

[masterlist]

#exo #exo k #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo reaction #exo scenario #exo fluff #exo fanfic #exo angst #exo au #exo fanfiction #exo baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #daddy baek #the secret

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leehaws · 5 years

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Kawhi Leonard’s Handle is the Secret to his Success

Kawhi Leonard is 27 years old, enjoying the prime of a career that’s already turned him into the most complete basketball player in the world. He can score efficiently at all three levels, shoot, rebound, create for teammates, and, without help, defend just about every player in the league.

But when Phil Handy—an assistant coach for the Toronto Raptors who specializes in skill development and has worked closely with LeBron James, Kobe Bryant, and Kyrie Irving, among many others—met Leonard over the summer and asked what part of his game he most wanted to improve, the two-time Defensive Player of the Year had ball-handling at the top of his list.

“Great players are great players, and I think they become even better players when they’re willing to get out of their comfort zone and just work on different things,” Handy told VICE Sports. “Kawhi was already a good ball-handler. I just think a lot of people didn’t really get to see that part of his game. It was there.”

They started with simple combinations and focused on improving his balance, base, and footwork, then blended in additional moves with multiple variations. Repetition was key. The objective wasn’t necessarily to teach Leonard new ways to transport himself from Point A to Point B on a basketball court so much as it was to plow what he already knew even deeper into his psyche. Now, when Leonard does something with the ball, his reflexes kick in before his brain has time to process what’s going on.

“Sometimes the dribbling exercises you put guys through, it may not be something they actually use on the floor but it gives transference. Their instincts become better,” Handy said. “They just instinctually start to go from one handle to another to another when they’re in different situations in games.”

He’s availing himself with a broader palette. Here’s Leonard getting hounded by Minnesota Timberwolves rookie Josh Okogie. When he goes between his legs and Okogie reaches in for the steal, Leonard spins baseline fast enough to convince viewers the move was directed by a choreographer.

The result of Leonard’s hard work during the offseason is clear every night. After a lost year in which he only appeared in nine games, Leonard has not only re-inserted himself into MVP and “best player alive” debates, but has also emerged in his first year with the Raptors as arguably the best ball-handler at his position. Plays like the one seen below are already typical.

On the San Antonio Spurs, Leonard’s handle felt like a pencil sketch of the Mona Lisa. Greatness was imminent, but operating in place of flair and spectacle was a robotic efficiency that never really needed to evolve. Every dribble inside Gregg Popovich’s system was a wasted opportunity to pass or shoot, and who was to argue with that calculus? His straight line drives regularly led to tomahawk dunks. The Spurs were a juggernaut. That doesn’t mean Leonard was stagnant, though. He itched to journey past the fundamentals which had already been mastered. There was strobe-light training and a demand to create more than separation for his own shot, particularly in the playoffs, as Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobili aged out of their responsibilities.

“He always was able to get to his spots, but now he is so comfortable anywhere,” Jamal Crawford told VICE Sports. “His handle is to the point where he does things to hop into shots, along with getting to the rim, along with using it to get his space in the mid-range.”

Today, Leonard’s ball-handling is an ideal marriage between style and substance; it’s grown from garnish to bedrock. There’s more fluidity and jazz at a higher volume. His dribbles per touch are at a career high, and shots attempted after at least three dribbles account for over 57.2 percent of his own offense. (Two seasons ago that was 42 percent, and one before that it was 37.1 percent.) Leonard is also averaging 5.3 more drives per game than he did three years ago, and 1.5 more than his last healthy season with the Spurs. (So far, only 36 percent of Leonard’s shots have been assisted. His previous career low was 48 percent, and in his third year that number was all the way up at 59 percent.)

“San Antonio did a phenomenal job developing Kawhi and helping him become a better player. I just think it was a different system.” Handy said. “The flow of our offense puts him in different situations where he’s able to expand a little bit more.”

The hard work is paying off, but a change of scenery hasn’t hurt. When I asked why he’s been able to showcase his ball-handling a bit more this season than in year’s past, Leonard acknowledged Toronto’s system and how he’s being utilized: “It’s pretty much just the offense that we’re running. I’m just able to come off pin downs and there’s a lot of cross screens and dribble hand-offs. Nick’s just doing a good job of spacing out the floor.”

Where lineups earlier in his career rarely prioritized offensive gravity over defensive intimidation, Leonard now operates with four three-point shooters by his side (including Pascal Siakam, who’s making a relatively impressive 34.6 percent of his threes right now), in an era designed for stars to take advantage of extra room. When he receives a pick high above the three-point line, Leonard skis downhill and sticks the screener’s defender on an island. It’s impossible to guard, but switching isn’t much of an alternative.

“We knew he could score in and out and off screens and all those kind of things. Play in transition some. And now we’re kind of getting him more in the screen-and-roll game, so he’s learning. And I think he’s starting to see things a little bit better too. He’s finding some kick-outs and passes out of there, and those guys are gonna need to step in and make them,” Raptors head coach Nick Nurse said. “So he can do everything, right? He can do everything, and we’ll just keep progressing with keeping it in his hands in all situations.”

Sit 15 feet away when he warms up at the free-throw line, as I did before a recent Raptors game, and it’s impossible to ignore just how small everything looks in his hands—if the basketball is Earth’s surface, Leonard’s hands are its oceans. At the NBA combine in 2011, his hands were 11.25 inches wide—which is wider than every player measured at the last four combines—and served as exclamation points at the tip of his 7’3” wingspan. They’ve always been his closest friends, around to help deflect passes and tally unreachable steals, sky for a rebound or finish a contested layup. And now more than ever, it’s hard to negate their usefulness when he handles the ball, too.

“Kawhi is really long, so my tendency when I’m working with guys that are long is to help them tighten their handle,” Handy said. “It makes sense biomechanically with your body, if you’re sitting in a wider stance it’s going to help you keep your length in.”

Leonard has more control over his entire body than the average person does over their big toe. Merge that discipline with unparalleled physical dimensions that directly impact his ability to manipulate a basketball, and what you get is a unique handle that defenses can’t really stop. He’s even more compact and under control than he used to be, which, when talking about someone who already takes care of the ball better than any star in the league, is really saying something. It allows him to alter tempos whenever/wherever he wants.

“He doesn’t play at a breakneck speed, but when he changes speeds he’s fast,” Handy said. “He just kind of puts you to sleep with the way he plays, and then boom. He’s really deceptive like that.”

The first time I re-watched this video, I thought the fourth dribble was a glitch; I’m still not 100 percent positive the ball physically travels went between his legs:

Already one of world’s best players, Leonard’s growth in this specific area has elevated his ceiling and made it even less possible to slow him down. Try and trap him and he’ll turn the corner, draw two defenders and still create enough space for a baseline fadeaway. Leonard regularly rips the ball off the rim and goes coast-to-coast, swiveling through defenders with an in-and-out move that’s executed to perfection at top speed. His between-the-legs crossover is lightning and his one, two, three-dribble pull-ups are virtually unguardable. Leonard’s handle isn’t the entree of his skill-set, but it complements everything else that makes him a franchise-altering talent. And just like every other gem who thrives in the same rarefied tier, the best is yet to come.

“I don’t care who you are, Kyrie, Steve Nash, Chris Paul. I don’t think you ever get to a point in your career where you say ‘OK, that’s enough with my ball-handling,’” Handy said. “You always have to constantly continue to get the rhythm of the basketball, and keep your handles tight, so wherever you are on the floor there’s any combination of dribbles you can use.”

Kawhi Leonard’s Handle is the Secret to his Success syndicated from https://justinbetreviews.wordpress.com/

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flauntpage · 5 years

Text

Kawhi Leonard's Handle is the Secret to his Success

He's availing himself with a broader palette. Here’s Leonard getting hounded by Minnesota Timberwolves rookie Josh Okogie. When he goes between his legs and Okogie reaches in for the steal, Leonard spins baseline fast enough to convince viewers the move was directed by a choreographer.

The result of Leonard's hard work during the offseason is clear every night. After a lost year in which he only appeared in nine games, Leonard has not only re-inserted himself into MVP and “best player alive” debates, but has also emerged in his first year with the Raptors as arguably the best ball-handler at his position. Plays like the one seen below are already typical.

Today, Leonard’s ball-handling is an ideal marriage between style and substance; it’s grown from garnish to bedrock. There's more fluidity and jazz at a higher volume. His dribbles per touch are at a career high, and shots attempted after at least three dribbles account for over 57.2 percent of his own offense. (Two seasons ago that was 42 percent, and one before that it was 37.1 percent.) Leonard is also averaging 5.3 more drives per game than he did three years ago, and 1.5 more than his last healthy season with the Spurs. (So far, only 36 percent of Leonard’s shots have been assisted. His previous career low was 48 percent, and in his third year that number was all the way up at 59 percent.)

"San Antonio did a phenomenal job developing Kawhi and helping him become a better player. I just think it was a different system." Handy said. "The flow of our offense puts him in different situations where he’s able to expand a little bit more."

Where lineups earlier in his career rarely prioritized offensive gravity over defensive intimidation, Leonard now operates with four three-point shooters by his side (including Pascal Siakam, who's making a relatively impressive 34.6 percent of his threes right now), in an era designed for stars to take advantage of extra room. When he receives a pick high above the three-point line, Leonard skis downhill and sticks the screener’s defender on an island. It’s impossible to guard, but switching isn't much of an alternative.

Sit 15 feet away when he warms up at the free-throw line, as I did before a recent Raptors game, and it’s impossible to ignore just how small everything looks in his hands—if the basketball is Earth's surface, Leonard’s hands are its oceans. At the NBA combine in 2011, his hands were 11.25 inches wide—which is wider than every player measured at the last four combines—and served as exclamation points at the tip of his 7’3” wingspan. They’ve always been his closest friends, around to help deflect passes and tally unreachable steals, sky for a rebound or finish a contested layup. And now more than ever, it’s hard to negate their usefulness when he handles the ball, too.

The first time I re-watched this video, I thought the fourth dribble was a glitch; I’m still not 100 percent positive the ball physically travels went between his legs:

Already one of world’s best players, Leonard’s growth in this specific area has elevated his ceiling and made it even less possible to slow him down. Try and trap him and he'll turn the corner, draw two defenders and still create enough space for a baseline fadeaway. Leonard regularly rips the ball off the rim and goes coast-to-coast, swiveling through defenders with an in-and-out move that's executed to perfection at top speed. His between-the-legs crossover is lightning and his one, two, three-dribble pull-ups are virtually unguardable. Leonard's handle isn't the entree of his skill-set, but it complements everything else that makes him a franchise-altering talent. And just like every other gem who thrives in the same rarefied tier, the best is yet to come.

Kawhi Leonard's Handle is the Secret to his Success published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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