Hello Again! It's been awhile, since I've written anything long like this. I'm not really sure how this is going to play out, and to be honest, I'm writing just to write. But, any of those who choose to be entertained by this, I thank you. So. Just to be safe, I do not own, any of the characters. At all. And, due to my forgetfulness, this will be the only disclaimer. This fanfiction, as you already know is called, An Artists Grief. Though, the title is subject to change. So, I hope you all enjoy, as I had a LOT of fun writing this chapter.
"Kid. Your rent was due two weeks ago." The landlord said. A man of sixty-three, short and fat, with balding grey hair, small squinty grey eyes, and thin serious lips. I pursed my lips at him and frowned.
"Please, sir." I resolved to begging, putting my pride aside. "I barely have money to feed myself. I just, really can't pay you this week."
"Listen kid, I got people lining up to live in this place. And, I know you got it rough, so I'll give you till the end of this month. If you don't have it, find you anotha' place to live, 'cause I ain't no charity." He said roughly.
"And I'm not a charity case." I muttered under his breath, denying the truth. I closed the door in the older man's face, and flopped onto a torn up chair, burying my head into my hands.
The truth was, I needed help. As my family said, before disowning me, art was no career to go into. I was low on food, only a loaf of bread, and a small amount of cheese left in the cupboard. I had thirty-seven cents left, in a can next to the bed, not enough to pay for anything, except maybe a pack of cheap gum.
But most importantly, I was low on supplies. Only a few poor quality 4B, 6B, HB pencils, and one ebony. I had a few broken pastels, in brown, pink, and orange, and a small nub of a charcoal stick. As for paints, only a container of white and black remained, as well as a few small tubes of red, blue, and yellow. And, the worst part of the situation was, I was down to five sheets of sketching paper, and two canvases.
I had been keeping a careful tab on this for the past few weeks, and I sold a few of my works for small amounts of money on the street, which I used to buy food, and if there was any extra, shampoos and such were purchased. As soon as my supplies ran out though, I knew I was done for.
Sighing in exasperation, I grabbed the five-paged sketchpad, a HB pencil, a 4B pencil, a carving knife, and an old scratched up jacket and headed out the door. I walked a mile or so to the park, and sat down on the bench. I placed the sketchpad in my lap, and laid the pencils and the small knife on the bench next to me. I grabbed the HB pencil, and sharpened it gently, concentrating on not carving too much on the poor pencil, which was being held together with a small amount of glue and tape. After reaching as close to perfection as I could get, I brought the pencil to the paper, and made the first thin soft line, indulging myself in the sound it made, and the feeling of the wood pressing against my hand. I sometimes doubted even trying to make it in the art world, but as soon as I found myself, loosing myself my work, I knew that it was worth it. I stared at the crystal clear waters, and allowed my hand to move freely across the page. After a few minutes, I glanced down at my work and corrected a few errors, by laying in a few spare lines. I bit my lip, knowing I couldn't afford to make any unfixable errors, I didn't have any erasers left. I proceeded to sketch in large details with the HB pencil, and then held the paper a foot away from me for a few moments, staring at the paper thoughtfully. I smiled at my work, knowing that this was a rather solid outline, and this could turn into a very fine piece with enough work. I decided to move on to putting in the small, barely noticeable details that would make the piece worth doing. That could make the piece sellable. I began to once again sharpen the edge of the pencil, this time the 4B.
"Is this seat taken?" I soaked in the sound of the voice. It was soft, yet sweet and confident. I looked up and wasn't surprised to see that the voice belonged to a beautiful woman, I began to absorb her features, as an artist normally would. Her hair, shoulder length, straight, and bubble gum pink, contrasted brilliantly with her pale skin and big forest green eyes. Her nose, perfectly straight, led to full round pink lips, and a perfect jaw line. My eyes traced down lower, following her smooth neck, and down to her chest, which was hinted at under a v-neck sweater, down to her flat stomach, and even lower to the swell of her hips, and finally to her tight jeans and black high top converse. I doubt she even noticed my thorough run through, which lasted only a few seconds.
"It is not." I said, gesturing to the spot next to me. She looked away, then looked back at me.
"Um, excuse me?" She asked, giving me an odd look, she chuckled lightly. "You think I was talking to you?" She asked laughing. I felt my face turn red, and I mentally smacked myself. I could tell she was relatively wealthy, and way out of my league, why would I automatically assume she was talking to me? Why was I so stupid? She must have seen the intrigued yet pissed expression on my face, as I continued the internal battle with myself. Was I like, hideous or something? Is that why she was laughing? I mean, I know I'm not the best looking guy ever, but I wasn't that bad. I had chin length black hair, big black eyes, full pale lips, and super pale skin, which I'm sure was a turn off. I was tall and thin, but not too thin, not too bad. But, I'm sure I don't look like that right now. I'm sure my hair is knotted and untidy, my skin smudged with graphite, and my clothes I knew where dirty, hole-y, and untidy. I'm sure I resembled an homeless person at the moment, and I'm sure I seemed a little crazy, though she was the one chuckling to herself.
"I'm just kidding." She said, laughing even harder. That broke my concentration. And I was confused. When, finally, I understood, I laughed awkwardly, as she sat down beside me.
"I'm sorry, that was rude". She held out a perfectly shaped hand in my direction. "I'm Sakura." She smiled warmly.
"It's quite alright", though I had already forgotten about the incident, "I'm Sai." I shook her hand, surprised at how warm and soft it was. She smiled back.
"Sai…" She murmured back at me. I nodded. "It is very nice to meet you Sai." I smiled and returned the polite gesture. "Now, to business." I perked an eyebrow at her, and she smiled at me again.
"Business?" I repeated back to her, curious.
"I wish to buy that when you finish it." She said, sternly. I tried to suppress the look of surprise that crossed my face. She frowned. "Now, for an artist of your caliber, I don't know if that's necessarily proticol, but you must take my plea into consideration. I simply adore this lake, and…I just want it so very badly." She murmured, my face was still a mask of surprise. "How much does your work usually go for? I'm willing to pay a high amount."
"Well, ma'am, good art doesn't come cheap…" I began, she nodded earnestly. I shook my head. "I have a guilty conscience Sakura. I must admit, I was going to throw out a really high number, and convince you that you were getting a deal. But, I'm going to be honest with you Sakura, you seem like a nice girl. I'll give you three guesses as to what my last painting, a five foot by five foot canvas, with a gorgeous view of downtown Kohana went for." I paused for half a second, and then replied, "Ten god damn dollars." Her eyes widened.
"Sai. Finish the god damn painting." She murmured, turning to look back at the lake. Without another word, I finished sharpening the pencil, and brought the pencil to the paper once again, with a new found passion. And, within a matter of tense minutes, I looked at the drawing once more. I quickly signed the bottom right hand corner, as all artists did, and I flipped it over and signed the back. I handed it to her and her awaiting fingers took it, and replaced the piece of paper with an envelope, the word Sai, written across it in perfect cursive.
"It was a pleasure to do business with you Sai." She said softly, standing up. I looked up at her, curiosity burning in my eyes, as she sauntered away. I watched in awe as her hips swayed back and forth in time with the swish of her hair, and clutched carefully in her left hand was my drawing. I shoved the envelope in my pocket, and more carefully placed the knife and pencils into the other pocket of my baggy jeans. I put the rest of the sketchbook under my arm, and walked slowly back to my place.
I closed the door behind me, and laid the supplies in my pocked down on the small table next to the chair. I pulled the envelope out of my pocked, and sat down on the chair. I carefully cut open the envelope, and almost passed out as I looked inside.
So, I hope you liked it. I would really, really, really appreciate reviews, they really inspire me. I enjoy constructive criticism, and since I write these things chapter by chapter, you can always give me suggestions. So, review. And, I'll have the next chapter up soon.
