LOVE CAN'T BE SAID

well since the nigh

osity, nothing more. But the stranger's face, that wild confid

vestigate an artist he'd seen at last year's Mori Gallery pop-up. T

ground artist. Known for volatile work and

behind a ramen shop in Aoyama, wondering if c

ked onc

ans

he handle.

ee days since t

d boots and eyes like a dare. Three days since he'd woken up with

ct, he ordered the car to a district he hadn't stepped foot in since university: Aoyama. Home to undergroun

e was nothing but a chipped red door with smears of pa

ked onc

ans

he handle.

d speakers, brush in hand. He didn't notice Reiji at f

ze at the

onally violent. Splashes of crimson, gold, and black screamed off the surfaces. The air smelled li

heir e

suit?" Ak

ught. "I'm here a

ho hangs original art in his hallway. Let me guess. Co

re to be judged,"

n the music. "You walked into an artis

. "I saw your installation a

. "That was suppose

wasn

wer my question.

ated. "You

sounds like the start

rying to p

ook like they're one phone ca

e the insult. "If I wanted to ruin

then? You saw me across a street

didn't

smirk

re se

to paint me,

nked. "Ex

heard

int-stained hands crosse

remember the last time someone saw me. And

le

harcoal stick and toss

ha

bones. The truth. Drop the political pr

stared

, he removed

. S

tillness, no smirk this time. Just.

did it," h

straight, expre

p the charcoal

. Glancing between the man and th

nse," Akir

f-naked in a str

e soul. You carry yourself like a

cked to him. "Th

very

form. Shadows around th

real," Akira said

you want

no one el

"I haven't drawn anyth

paused

her bur

charcoal st

ked up. "

need yo

. It's anger.

thing. Akira

rned the sketchbo

i st

perfect. But it was honest. A

eached

ck. "Nope. You don

y n

ou don't get to own every

u really don't car

sketch you. That's

ning his shirt slo

romise or

over his should

shut be

d at the sk

olded it, and tucke

n't kn

e collision ha