Puzzle Pieces (Sonny/Graffiti Pete) In The Heights

Chapter 1: In The Heights

Hi, those of you who don't know me, thanks for choosing to read my trash. Those of you who came from my other works, thanks for continuing to read my trash.

Vandalism, they call it. Defacing private property is the more advanced way of saying it.

But that's not what it feels like to Pete. When he sprays paints on a wall, a sign, a grate, he doesn't feel like he's defacing anything. If anything, it feels like he's giving a face to something that didn't have one before. He gives life to walls that used to be just plaster, he spreads uniqueness. Character. Spirit. It's a piece of the puzzle of a life he hasn't yet completed.

To most people, Pete knew that the word graffiti is criminalizing, but he enjoys the title Graffiti Pete. He's proud of it. Because to him, the word means liberation. To people like him, African Americans struggling and misunderstood in the barrio, liberation is much needed.

Stalking, some might say. Following. Spying, they might accuse him of. But Sonny really isn't following Graffiti Pete. Sonny is going to the bodega, and it happens that Pete is a block ahead of him, heading the same way- perhaps Sonny decides to slow down to watch Pete's smooth, lanky swagger, but he doesn't change his intended course, so it isn't stalking.

Sonny watches as Graffiti Pete stops in front of the bodega and swings his backpack from his shoulder as smoothly as his graceful strides down the street. Pete pulls out cans of spray paint, worn and dusted with color.

Sonny stops to watch instead of going into the bodega that's due to open just about now.

Pete shakes a glazy red vigorously and sprays it in arcs over the grate, then orange, a riot of warm colors spilling vibrantly from his hands as they dip from deep red to the brightest of rich yellows. This is the feeling he loves, the feeling he never felt anymore, not since his father learned the hard way the reality of police brutality. This is what it feels like to let go of pain. This is what freedom feels like.

The guy that Sonny's always considered quite the enigma is now letting loose streams of paint. Graffiti Pete is pretty much all he knows about Pete: he does graffiti, his name is Pete. Seeing this, Sonny wants to know more.

"Hey!" An energetic voice breaks through Pete's concentration and Pete feels himself fall back to earth. Sonny watches Pete deflate as he's chased from the grate, leaving a half-completed cast of color that looks more like an emotion than an object.

"Always a criminal," Pete mutters as he slips away. Something on Pete's face looks painfully personal.

Sonny brings his thoughts off of Pete's face and to Usnavi's as Usnavi rolls his eyes and groans, "Got this little punk I gotta chase away." Little punk. How old was Graffiti Pete anyway?

Pete slumps onto a bench. He doesn't really have a home to run to, so this will have to do, even though the sun is going to burn him to a crisp and his apartment is still technically there. But his mom lectures him every day for going down the same path as his dad and is always coming back with men just like what people think his dad was anyway.

It's a house, not a home.

Pete inventories his colors, even though he knows everything he needs to: he's low on paint and money, and he'd got no way to buy more. His minimum wage job at the fast food register barely pays for his food. He wishes for the millionth time that he could get paid for his work, but God knows that's never going to happen. The corner piece- necessary to hold things together, but ultimately out of the picture's focus.

He thinks lightly of his younger dreams. Sometimes he still lets himself. He paints the picture of his imagined future for his father, up in heaven, watching. Listening. I close my eyes and I can see the world that's waiting up for me, that I call my own. He looks up, willing his dad to hear him. Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head...

Sonny strides toward the store, tuning into Daniela's gossip as they take their warm coffee, even though the sun is warm enough.

"He's in bed with José from the liquor store."

Sonny's heart drops to his toes. He. "No mi diga!" Usnavi exclaims in shock. And horror.

Oh God. It's hard enough that Sonny barely earns a glance a day from his cousin, but if that's really how his cousin see's homosexuality... Bi is one of the puzzle pieces that he's not ready to show anyone yet.

"Sonny! You're late!" Usnavi waves him over impatiently.

"Chillax," he decides to push it, "you know you love me."

Usnavi returns to his freestyle rapping. "Me and my cousin, running, just another dime a dozen, mom and pop stop and shop..."

Sonny opens the fridge and is immediately assaulted with the sour smell of spoiled milk. Oh. Unsavi just needed him to fix the fridge. He can do that. Totally.

Sonny crouches down to work as he wonders what it will take for Usnavi to give him an ounce of attention. If he's judging from what he just overheard, coming out to Usnavi would be one way, but that attention would hardly be positive. But Usnavi is his center piece. He loves him, needs him, builds himself around him.

Sonny thanks God he has a crush on Nina. Maybe it will impair his ability to like guys. After all, how many crushes can you have at once?

But as his hands flick switches and complete circuits in practiced motions, he can't help remembering Pete's long strides and the grace of his movements as he made the grate an unfinished puzzle.

Pete has finished figuring out how long those cans will last him. The short answer is not long.

Not that he needs to paint. It's not physically necessary. His mom is always nagging him to do something productive. Something useful. She doesn't like him in the streets because that's how his dad died and she likes it even less since he could get in trouble for vandalism.

Pete wonders when he'll ever be useful to someone.

And a block away, Sonny wonders when anyone will ever keep him around for a reason other than the fact that he's useful.

Super short chapter, pretty low on dialogue, but I'm trying. Thank you for reading!!

             -Probably still the Worst Writer on Wattpad