aliteralplant - Tumblr blog

aliteralplant · 27 days ago

Text

𝕊𝕠𝕝 𝕩 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝔸𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 (𝔾ℕ)

Ok, lemme just put a quick AN here.

it has been a VERY long time since i have written fan fiction. i mean, like 2020 long time. HALF A DECADEEEEEE. I may be rusty lol.

anyway, ive had this idea in my head for a while now. I mean, hes an art major, it makes sense for a street artist to be an art major, and street art tends to be found in some pretty abandoned, unsafe areas. cool concept, now lets see if i can execute it right.

Word count: 1,679

█▓▒▒░░░-------------------░░░▒▒▓█

It was quiet in your room. As well as it was outside, hell, even those noisy neighbors on the other side of the wall were passed out asleep. But not you. You had plans. The plans in question? A little vandalism, that's all. People have grown allergic to whimsy, to fun, to color. The buildings of your city are plain. White, brick, grey, boring.

You scroll through your phone, waiting for the clock to hit 1:00AM. Unfortunately, this godforsaken city had gotten tight on artists like you. They had to "maintain appearances", or at least that's what the police officer said last time you were caught. "No more second chances" he said. You didn't want to test that.

Your phone buzzes. It's go time ho. You mumble to yourself, cursing past you for being such a meanie. You're already wearing the clothes you need; black jeans, a dark grey hoodie with some band on the back, and your favorite face mask, with filters of course. You grab your backpack, wincing at the weight of it. It's filled with spray paint cans in every color an artist would need, and then some.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, all you can think is "I look like I'm about to rob some bank." But you know better. You know the spot, what time to be there, what time to leave. But what to paint? You step towards your window, hoping that maybe a look at the not-so-great outdoors will inspire you. As you reach closer towards the cold glass surface, panicked shuffling forces you to stop. You freeze. Looking closer, you see that your window is.. open? How long has it been open? You don't remember opening it. Infact, you had to close it this morning.

"Maybe I just didn't close it all the way..."

You go to close the window. You're shaken, but not deterred. Hell, if someone snuck into your apartment, then its a great idea to leave! You gather your items once more and head out the door, double checking you locked it.

Its cold outside tonight. But not in an uncomfortable way. The air is crisp and refreshing. It reminds you of home, in a way. The quiet calm air accompanied by crickets and dreams. But there are no dreams here. This city is dead. In spirit and in art. There is another difference of the atmosphere in the city though. Especially tonight.

You feel eyes on you. Piercing into your very soul. You look around, but no one is there. "I'm just paranoid, I'm just paranoid, it's just the adrenaline," You say, as if repeating something makes it true. Sure, you're about to break the law, but this isn't new for you. This anxious feeling is. It's abnormal, you haven't felt this way since the first time you blessed a wall. You try to shake it off, its just nerves, its fine. Suddenly, you're where you need to be. An abandoned warehouse, boarded up and most importantly, empty. A blank canvas, if you will.

But how to get in?

You walk along the side of the building, hoping to find a broken window or a busted door. They forced the ladders up. You curse. You've planned this for too damn long to give up now. You circle the building again. Big mistake, its huge. Your legs are tired from walking. Your shoulders are tired from carrying that heavy backpack. You. Are tired. You decide to walk around the opposite side of the building once more, maybe you missed something. Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe.

You make your way over, dragging your feet as you walk. And you are glad you did. A ladder that was previously locked up way above you now touches the ground. How did you miss that? You thought you were thorough. But you don't care. You shoot up the ladder before any unsuspecting passerby can see you. You're in.

Looking at the open space in front of you, all you see is potential. Beautiful untouched slabs on concrete surround you. Clearly, no one has been here in a long time. Oddly, there is no artwork around you though. This is a street artist's paradise? Where is the street art?

It doesn't matter, you're going to fix that. You drop your backpack, pulling out all of your paint and sorting them by color. You look at your canvas, realizing yet again you don't know what to paint.

Thunk.

"HOLY SHIT!" You shout, whipping your head around. You see someone, a man, a tall man, with a large bag would sit on his shoulder, if he hadn't have dropped it.

It's Sol. Thank god it's just Sol.

"Shit, you scared me." He steps toward you, shocked expression on his face. "Uhm, YOU scared ME. Who just goes to abandoned buildings slamming their stuff around?"

"I could ask that to you."

"Does my stuff look slammed around to you?" You spat, still shaken.

And then you realize, why is he here? How did he know about this place? It's pretty desolate and not well known. That's why he chose it. So you ask, "Why are you here?"

"To paint, obviously. And based on all those cans around you, you're here to do the same thing."

Snarky bitch. He was always like that, even in class he just always had something to say. You don't respond and turn around, facing your "canvas" once more. He walks up to you.

"So, what are you going to paint?"

It's a good question. You still don't know. So you ask..

"What should I?"

He hums, clearly brainstorming. If he's going to be here he can at least help you. You turn to look at him. The windows are not boarded on this floor, letting the moonlight seep through the broken panes of glass that were once windows. It hits his face, showering him in a soft white light. It brings light to his face, almost caressing it. He looks ethereal. His hair is down, a sight you haven't seen before. It's messy, but not in a "God, when was the last time he brushed his hair" way. It frames his face perfectly, the green streaks shining in the dim moonlight.

You take in his his outfit. He's dressed similarly to you, but his hoodie is much more lame and his facemask is pulled down. You pull yours down too. The filters it has aren't much use right now. If you're not painting there isn't much need to wear it.

"You're staring."

"No, I'm waiting on you. Hurry up."

He scoffs, feigning hurt. Putting a hand to his chest, he looks at you, putting on an over the top dramatic face. "You can't rush the process! For shame!"

You roll your eyes.

And then he speaks "I have an idea anyway. You like flowers, right?"

"Who doesn't?" You say. But the more you think about it, the more you realize he's right. Hell, you were talking to Crowe about flowers just today. Or that would be yesterday now, considering its 3:35 in the damn morning. Good thing you've nothing to do tomorrow.

"True," he says, hanging onto the word. "I have an idea. What if we made some flowers as planets in a solar system?"

Holy shit that's a good idea.

"I think I'll take you up on that actually, that's a good idea."

And so you do. You paint. Your beautiful blank canvas begins to take life. Hydrangeas, roses, and orchids flow over the once blank wall. Sol takes four "planets", you take the other four.

"But what about pluto?" You ask, wondering about the forgotten dwarf.

"Pluto isn't a planet."

"Well that's not it's fault! We should add it!"

"It still isn't a planet. Do you really feel like adding every dwarf in the solar system?" He says. sarcastically.

" Well pluto is special, it was a planet once.."

"Yeah, once. Not anymore. No pluto."

"Fine.... Anyway, what are we going to make the sun?" you ask. Neither of you have thought of that. All these planetary flowers have nothing to orbit. A few ideas rattle around your head. Another flower. A vase, with the stems of the "planets" sitting inside. The actual sun. And then it hits you.

"An eye." "What about an eye?"

You both said the same thing. Great minds think alike no doubt.

"Well, it's settled then." He says, a dumb smirk on his face.

"But who's going to make it?"

A good question. Apparently, you two have very similar processes, working your way from the inside out. You now stand right next to him, looking up at the painting. You walk towards your once neat pile of paint, now scattered. You toss him a can, saying "Lets to it together!", flashing him a smile. If it wasn't so dark, you could've seem the blush creep onto his face.

With the two of you working on it together, it takes no time at all. Your work is finished. A once blank wall, covered in beautifully placed paint, stares at you. "It's beautiful.", you mutter.

"Just like you."

"What?"

"Nothing."

You look at him suspiciously, but notice something. The lighting on his pretty face has changed. You look towards the broken window. The sun is rising. You look at the time.

"5:43 AM..."

"Is it really that late?"

You panic, "It's really that early! We need to leave before we're stuck here until it's dark again."

Sol agrees. He climbs back down the ladder first, catching you when you slip on the last bar. He calls you clumsy, you call him a dick. He walks you out of the alleyway, and asks:

"So, there's much more wall to cover. Same time next week?"

"Sure, but you're buying the paint this time."

"Fine by me. Seeya at class."

He walks off waving a hand at you as he turns around. You head the opposite direction practically sprinting down the street. You feel the same set of piercing eyes that watched you earlier again. However, this time you are not anxious. You're too busy brainstorming ideas for the next time you meet. You make it back to your apartment, nearly breaking your bed with the force you slam onto it. Before you pass out, you look at your window. Its closed.

Your final thought before your much needed sleep?

"I thought I locked that window..."

#tkatb #tkatb sol #tkatb solivan #the kid at the back sol #solivan brugmansia #tkatb x reader #solivan x reader #solivan brugmansia x reader

123 notes · View notes