When the moment I had been born, a heavy expectation for my future had already been set in stone.
My mother and father were world renowned classical artists, and as their first and only child, I was expected to follow in their footsteps.
Lenient as they were, pursuing classical art was something I had no choice in deciding. It was already decided for me.
At first, art was my favourite pastime, something I could spend hours upon hours dabbling in. But as time passed, and my skills reached a certain level, it became clear that other forms of art were more enjoyable than the classical art style I had been forced into.
Several times had I pleaded to my parents, asking to focus on other forms of art, only to get turned down time upon time.
I was but an investment to them.
I was their... “legacy”.
Their retirement plan. A way to keep all of the high-class friends which they had gained from their prestige.
After all, this world is all about giving and taking. If no new classical art pieces were produced, then they would be deprived of the fame they so painstakingly built.
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Eventually I decided to develop my other skills without my parents’ permission, a frightfully challenging task which I had thoroughly enjoyed endeavouring in.
However, my collection of pieces would always be found, and inevitably destroyed by my parents, who bore furious expressions upon their brows.
Saying that I was “wasting my time”, and more importantly “focusing my talent onto other areas” instead of putting “all my effort into surpassing them”.
And so, I did. Obtaining international renown by the age of ten, it seemed as though it would be a matter of time better, I at least achieved notoriety equal to that of my parents.
But then I discovered a fascinating form of art. One that matched the feelings which I had been bottling up for so, so long.
Graffiti.
A simple yet complex art style that seemingly had no boundaries, no restrictions and, if good enough, would be left upon the walls which they had marked.
The only problem was that... Well... graffiti was quite the noticeable artform. If I attempted to put any effort towards that form of art, then I’d need to practice somewhere else.
Sneaking out of my house from a young age to practice my graffiti skills was easier said than done. With the large premise chock-full of attendants and guests, successfully escaping without being seen was usually impossible.
However, the few times which I had been able to leave unattended were some of the nights I cherished the most.
Bouts of happiness surging within me when I had seen that my previously pieces of artwork had yet to be washed away, mixed with disappointment when they had, both emotions fuelling me to improve my skills.
Unfortunately, this came at a cost.
My classical art skills had not greatly improved over the period of a year, prompting my parents to suspect I hadn’t been diligently practicing, resulting in them assigning a full-time attendant to my side, ensuring I’d always have eyes on me.
No longer was I able to sneak out of the house, only on short trips out were I able to see my seemingly impervious pieces of artwork, to which up until now only a few had survived.
Perhaps a testament to how shallow my skills had been all those years ago.
I suppose another drawback of being born into my position were all of the “friends” I’d made over the years.
That being said, I’d never actually any of what you may call “true friends”. Only “friends” who asked, but never gave.
The folly of being the daughter of a world-renowned artist couple.
I’ve always yearned for the freedom upon which others have been bestowed from birth.
The cage I’ve lived in all my life was a miserable place filled with adults who sternly glared at everything I did.
They all looked at me with such an insatiable greed in their eyes. Always asking if they could have this or that piece, if, as my friend, it’d be ok to take and that.
After all, “I can always just make another one” they would say.
Well, they weren’t entirely wrong, and my parents had told me to be charitable in order to build connections.
However, I saw it in a different light. These people that only see me as an entertainer, a money printer, or worst of all a special prize of some sort.
Although the last type had always been dealt with appropriately, leading to me acquiring a rather violent nickname if I were to say so myself.
Art shouldn’t be bought and sold. It should be admired, no? If it is not up to standard, then it should be washed away, if not perfect then it shouldn’t exist.
And that is the beauty of the art style that is graffiti.
But alas it was not to be. Sometimes I envy those who were born into normal families with normal parents and normal expectations placed upon their children.
Perhaps, had I been one of those people, I could have created pieces of art that transcended silly things such as styles, that could be admired by anyone no matter their preferences or field of expertise.
And then those two came along.
Two normal people, who did not have the restrictions that I have.
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Watching them laugh and play games so nonchalantly made my heart tighten, thinking such things like, “I too could have been like them.“.
Maybe, through those two, I can regain some of the freedom that I lost all those years ago.
I think those two are what people call “True friends” to me.
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A black hooded individual slowly crept towards a large building that was decorated with a plethora of brightly coloured posters, entering the alleyway beside the building.
Checking there was nobody nearby before dropping their backpack, that had been slung around their shoulder, onto the floor, they unzipped it to reveal a variety of different colour spray paints.
Equipping a black and red respirator, they started to outline a figure upon the side of the building, before colouring and adding details to the image.
A small child surrounded by thirty or so black eyes appeared, the small child’s hands chained to the floor; her eyes crossed out with bright red spray.
Fully immersed in their art, their hoodie had fallen from their head, a bundle of black hair falling to their sides, matching the colour of the hoodie.
The sound of a metal can letting out a series of pain-filled screams as its midsection became flattened snatched their attention, the figure’s eyes darting towards the sound before pulling over their hoodie and dashing over to their backpack, frantically scrambling to equip it and leave the premises.
Two figures walked into view as the taller of the two looker towards the fully covered person who was making their quick escape, the smaller entranced in the freshly painted piece before them.
Noticing a familiar scribble on the corner of the piece, the small orange girl racked her brain as to where she’d seen it before.
“Lea? Is that you?” Chloe called out, standing at the edge of the alleyway next to Aaron.
Halting in place, the black figure seemed to be frantically thinking about their next course of action before the small orange haired girl continued.
“This tag. I thought it looked familiar. I’ve seen you draw it in some of your art books before. It’s you... right?” she enquired, carefully taking in the figure’s body type and height, finding them similar to her friend’s proportions and stature.
After a few moments of silence, Chloe looked up towards Aaron and shrugged her shoulders before moving towards the other girl, who flinched away in response to Chloe coming closer.
A sigh was released from the figure before they turned around with a hand on their forehead, as if realising that they’d been caught red handed.
“I didn’t realise you paid such close attention to my work... I’m sure that I’ve doodled my tag only a few times in those hundreds of pages.” Lea exclaimed; her eyebrows raised in surprise.
Chloe once again shrugged her shoulders in response, mumbling that it was because of how entrancing the paintings were.
Lea glanced over to Aaron, who up until this moment had been starting nonstop at Lea’s outfit.
Realizing Lea’s gaze had shifted towards him, the green eyed boy frantically attempted to raise his right hand to cover his flushed expression, swiftly turning towards the graffiti and letting a few “ooou”s and “ooooouuh”s in an endeavour to hide his current state.
Taking in Aaron’s state, Lea quickly pieced together why he was acting the way he was from the state of his face, letting out a small laugh before skipping over to the boy and giving him a somewhat firm slap on the back, jolting him forward.
“Do I look that good in this outfit, huh?” she teased, leaning forward slightly so as to see more of his expression, black hair cascading down her sides, crimson orbs piercing into a sea of emerald.
Accidentally locking eyes with Lea, Aaron fumbled around with his words for a few seconds, looking towards the ground and letting out a small inaudible mumble.
“Yeah.”
The corners of his lips tugged upwards forming a small smile before he quickly changed the subject, under the impression his comment had gone unheard.
“Didn’t you say that you had an important event to go to? Did you ditch us to do some graffiti? How cold! Could have at least invited us as well!” Aaron quickly spoke, moving away from the girl.
Lea stayed still for a few seconds, a sheet of red covering her cheeks, before regaining her composure.
“Force of habit. Sorry.” She playfully quipped back, straightening out her hair that had been forcefully contained within her jumper whilst blowing a raspberry at the two.
“Always knew you had a passion for graffiti, the way you looked at it when we passed by some. Never would have taken you for someone who created it though. With you being all prim and proper’n stuff.” Aaron rambled on, his left hand finding its way to the back of his neck as he took in the graffiti before him.
“You guys won’t tell anyone, right?” she jokingly asked, back facing the two of them whilst her eyes darted to the backpack full of evidence located close to her feet.
The small orange haired girl, who up until this point had unconsciously drooped her shoulders, lips in a small frown, quickly responded to Lea, expression quickly reverting to her usual positive self.
“Well, I am in need of some food at the moment...” Chloe pondered, finger beneath her chin as if she was earnestly pondering about how she could resolve the situation at hand.
Lea looked over to Chloe and then burst out into a fit of laughter, keeling over after becoming out of breath.
“You better be making me some as well!” Lea responded, walking over and ruffling the smaller female’s unkempt orange hair, a grin spanning her countenance.
Chloe looked towards Aaron who promptly replied with a laugh, “Does that include me as well? Honestly, I could go with something to eat right about now!”
Orange orbs sparkled as she nodded frantically, hair fluttering around in the air making her look like a mop that had just been used to clean up some orange juice.
Aaron lent up against the wall of the alley behind him, using his right leg to stabilise him against the bricks as he sharply took in some air.
“But damn, this is quite something isn’t it! A complete 180 from your normal stuff.” He proclaimed; his tone impressed.
Lea hastily span around, walking up to Aaron and staring into his eyes, arms at her sides as she bent forward, garnering his unadulterated attention.
“You like it? Which do you prefer? This or my work at school?” she interrogated, finding it hard to believe someone would prefer her graffiti over her classical work that she was so critically famed for.
Aaron, finding himself unable to think for a few seconds due to her being so close to him, finally pulled his eyes away from Lea and towards the graffiti, looking at it and thinking about which one he preferred.
“I think this style suits you more. The cottage piece was really cool and everything, but this type of art is more of my kind of thing. The graffiti feels like it is more personal, you know?” He surmised, complementing both pieces of artwork whilst sneakily looking over to her expression.
Lea’s eyes widened, forcing Aaron into a tight hug as she replied, “I knew you would agree with me!“.
Aaron, assaulted by a flurry of new senses and smells, turned as stiff as a statue and pondered over whether it’d be okay to hug her back or not.
Whilst the two of them were having a moment together, the little orange haired girl forcefully averted her gaze and instead chose to walk over to the black backpack sitting next to the wall underneath the graffitied wall, rummaging through the different spray paints and inquisitively looking at them.
She’d never seen anything quite like them before, a surge of excitement rushing through her as she thought of all the things she could do with them.
The graffiti had borne a striking resemblance to her nightmares. The small girl felt a disturbing feeling upon viewing it but quickly shrugged it off.
“What do you think about adding a giant eye encasing the whole piece?” Chloe asked, turning her head to judge Lea’s reaction to her suggestion.
Returning from her ecstatic trance, Lea looked towards what she’d accomplished already, nodding her head in agreement after a second or two of deep thought.
“Do you want to try? I have an extra respirator in there that you can wear.” Lea offered, gesturing towards the spray cans inside the bag.
Chloe nodded and gave a quick thanks before reaching into the backpack and grabbing the funny looking mask, equipping it and then picked out a bright red coloured spray paint can.
Standing up, she started to draw the large eye, surrounding all of Lea’s artwork.
Midway through, Chloe looked over to Aaron and handed the spray canister to him, describing to him how to finish the eye.
Since Lea was somewhat taller than Chloe, Aaron had to substitute for her when she got to the parts she couldn’t reach.
Stepping back to have a look at the artwork she’d created, the trio smiled, Lea giving two thumbs up towards the pair.
Their first collaborative piece.
No one else but the three of them.