the last brushstroke destroys the painting [muke af]

eleven

eleven

Luke closed the door for Cornerside Art, hearing it lock twice. He turned around, taking an exaggerated deep breath. The streets were dark, the overhead lights flickering dimly.

He wasn't in the worst part of New York City, but all of his city was kind of bad. Luke shoved his keys between his index finger and middle finger, ready to slit anyone's throat if they dared come near him.

The blonde started walking his few blocks home. His mind was busy, his gallery was coming up. His first gallery in quite some time. He's been saving up his best work for this one night, and he was petrified. This could be it, this could show him if he's even worth a dime, literally.

He didn't like the quiet streets nor his loud mind. He felt around in his tight jeans, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. He dialed the first, and only, number on his contacts list.

Sometimes he wished his parents still cared for him. He pretends that they do, it makes him feel better at night. He wishes he had more friends, he wishes he knew his sibling's numbers, he wishes he could text up his mother and ask how she's been.

"Hm?" Michael grumbled.

"Hey, you busy?" Luke asked. He kicked a pebble with his Converse then almost tripped over it.

"Art," he responded. Michael tilted in his stool, trying to release himself from the zone so he could focus on the other line.

Luke buried his hand deep in his pocket. "Oops, sorry. I'm walking home from work, and, I don't know. I was lonely."

"Do you want me to pick you up? Are you safe?" His tone became more worried.

"No, no, I'm fine. I met to ask you this the other day, but, like, I have this gallery coming up, and, like, I know you're busy and stuff—." He rambled for a bit, stuttering over basic English words.

"Of course! I'll come. When? Where? Who's gonna be there?" Mike perked up in his seat. He had a smile on his face, excited to finally see Luke's work.

Luke told him the time and date as well as the location. He turned the corner into his complex, dropping his keys safely to his side. "You don't have to come, it's gonna be lame."

"No, holy shit, I finally get to see the amazing Luke Hemmings' artwork. God bless."

Luke was scared, but Michael's voice warmed his mind.