I didn't mind New York very much. In truth, I quite liked it. It was a big, bustling city and our apartment reminded me a lot of the one we had back home.
"Dad?"
"Si?" My dad looked up at me.
"Can I... go explore?"
"Si. Just, be back before 8:00."
I nodded and ran outside, slipping my black jacket over my shoulders and tucking my hands in my pockets before starting my walk. I passed tons of tall buildings and shoved through huge crowds until I finally made it to a lonelier part of the city. It was kind of like Italy. There were small shops and with couple people passing through, a few alleys and an apartment building. I particularly noticed a tall, messy, dirty boy with shiny, clear blue eyes filled with sadness and hope leaning against a wall. He looked around kind of suspiciously and ducked back, things jangling in his almost torn pocket. Out of curiosity, I followed him. Keeping my distance, we weaved through buildings and alleys until we came across an old, wrecked building. The boy removed a brick from the wall then placed a few coins in the empty space and replaced the brick. He slumped against it and all of a sudden I felt like I was trespassing. I turned and ran home as fast and quietly as I could. The boy didn't leave my mind all day.
It was Monday. I set up a stand in the quieter part of the city, where I had been yesterday. Sure enough, the boy was there. I placed my sketchbook and pencils down, then hung up a sign: $1 per picture!
I was an artist- or so I had been told. Within two hours I had sold 17 drawings, each one capturing the life of the city around me. I even drew the boy I saw, making sure to make the crystal tears in his eyes evident. I saw the lady who bought that one cry as she walked away staring at it. At the end of the day I had a good $37 dollars, and so I snuck back and put it behind the boy's brick, under a rock with a note- for you.
The next day I returned on my motorcycle. I parked it next to my stand and continued drawing, but this time I did my Italian neighborhood. I roughly colored them with pastels and by the end of the day I was covered in pencil shavings and colorful streaks. I added my earnings to the boys again. I continued this for the rest of the week, until on Friday I got a note back. Behind the brick, carved into the bottom-
Thank you, but I can't take this.
THANKS FOR READING GUYS I WILL UPDATE SOON!! AS ALWAYS, SEE YOU NEXT CHAPTER!!
XXSAM
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When the Artist Touched the Sun
FanfictionBlack as night, his hair. Deep eyes, dusted cocoa. Narrowed, concentrated. His hands, frail, holding the pencil precisely. His walls, up, his head, down. Nico. His hair, yellow as the sun. His eyes held the sky. His hands, holding nothing b...
