"Metamerism" Naruto.

[fireun]

Title- Metamerism 1/?
Naruto
AU

...A phenomenon exhibited by two colors that match under one or more light sources, but do not match under all light sources or viewing conditions...

It started with a dream, a hazy image that refused to budge, and evaded illumination. Bits of it plagued his every day activities; a flash of yellow reminded him of wind ruffling hair, a snatch of blue glass twinkled like grinning eyes. It was baffling and infuriating. And Sasuke Uchiha was a stoically rational entity; he had neither the time nor tolerance for dream wisps intervening in his daily life.

His study of form and function was ultimately altered by a whirling little pattern. It insinuated itself in the corners of paintings, wove its way into the brush strokes defining wind tousled hair. It didn’t ruin his work, not really, but the perfectionist behind narrowed eyes resented every intrusion, every traitorous flourish his hand engaged in.

He was not prone to profanity, but something very close to a string of gutter slang slipped from between gritted teeth as he stared at his latest endeavor. He hadn’t intended to paint that sort of crooked grin, eyes shaped by a pattern of crow’s-feet and friendly wrinkles. The shading suggested strong features; his brush had defined a slight slouch and a wild mass of hair that would have left the Medusa taken aback.

 Portents and omens were best kept in the New Age section of the local bookstore. Sasuke believed in getting a paycheck and maintaining his reputation. The painting, no matter how uncannily it resembled the current bane of his sleeping existence, wouldn’t tarnish his renown. It was a solid piece.

So he finished it. Shading a battered hoodie into existence, adding a tear to jeans past their prime and a bit of dirt here and there, shaving every last bit of respectability out of the insidious character in a bit of spite. He couldn’t get rid of the damn phantom, but the little things made him feel that much better.

 

 

 

It was with a considerable bit of surprise that Naruto noticed himself staring out of a darkened window. Well, to be fair, he had never owned pants that ratty and he definitely did a better job of cleaning dirt from underneath his nails (he glanced down quickly, just to be sure), but the face…

He could have been looking into a mirror, and not the closed gallery settled between a restaurant and office building. He didn’t remember fending off any artistic enthusiast, couldn’t recall any time he had had his picture taken. The idea of a secret admirer gave him a dashing moment of ego inflation before the skin between his shoulder blades took to itching. No, he definitely didn’t like the idea that someone was following and staring, memorizing all the little details. The bastard even caught that slouch he had been trying to get rid of for years.

He was either at the end of a wonderfully executed joke, and his friends would be laughing hysterically when he met them at the café, or there was something a bit more sinister afoot.

Naruto grinned, flashing his teeth his at his image. He loved a good challenge.

The skin along his back didn’t give up twitching until he was settled in the corner booth, feet resting on the chair they always needed to pull up to fit everyone. He was the first one there, but that just meant he could order lunch and then convince Shikamaru he was buying. After all, he had a story to tell. The least his friends could do was spot him a sandwich.

The friend in question sauntered in as Naruto was downing his second soda, and answered Naruto’s wave with a lazy salute. “Did you know you’re famous?”

Naruto blinked, the strategically worded story he had been preparing as he waited forgotten as his mouth did its best beached fish impression.

“Be sure to ask Hinata where she put the painting she bought this morning.” Shikamaru plopped down onto the spare chair and settled into a comfortable slouch.

“Huh?” It wasn’t his most intelligent response, but his expression was eloquent enough. Morning? How could she have bought the painting that morning? It had been sitting in a closed gallery less than a hour ago.

 

 

 

Brushes had been discarded ages ago. His fingers traced through the paint, coaxing shading and subtle shifts of color into existence. Nails dragged out the details, scratching through the paint, separating strands of hair from each other, and revealing a worry line or two on the forehead.

It had passed from inconvenience to obsession, and no matter how he tried to dissuade himself, no matter how many times he shook himself free from the moment and lifted the canvas to set it aside, to paint over with the base coat that would facilitate another project…

Sasuke brushed bangs out of his face with fingers covered in a gory mix of reds and the stray dab of yellow. He ignored the paint he could feet wet on his cheeks. He would remember it later, when he dunked himself into a shower in an attempt to drench himself with something other than sweat. He ignored the paint on his face. He was too far involved in the paint taking shape on the canvas. It was a frenzy of attempted exorcism. Hopefully, if he got it perfect this time…

 

 

Comments

[sweetsarcasm13.livejournal.com]

Again with me not watching the show...and totally not needing to. Have I mentioned lately how I adore your use of implication? It's impressive how descriptive you are, and also how you still manage to let the reader's brain do most of the work.

[animegoil.livejournal.com]

Well, interesting. I love how it went from an annoying tendency sneaking in, to a full-blown obsession <3 Curious to see more of this. Cause there is more, right?