A Single Stroke
Francis was an artist; a painter, to be exact.
Francis painted people. Women, mostly. What else held more beauty, he reasoned, than the form of a woman? Seductive, innocent, haughty and everything in between, their portraits lined his studio, waiting to be auctioned off or displayed.
Today, though, Francis was working on something new. Something different. Something… personal.
Francis was painting a man.
A man who, in Francis' opinion, outshone every woman he had ever seen.
Sitting with the back of the easel to the door, to prevent any… unwelcome disturbances (the painting was private, after all), he began to work.
His brush sketched out the man's delicate features on the canvas, and a form began to take shape. The man was indeed beautiful, in a strange, almost pixie-like way, with messy blonde hair, pale skin and a pair of impossible green eyes that stared out from under a ridiculously huge set of eyebrows.
Lost in a daydream, Francis continued to paint, until footsteps and a hammering at his door brought him back to reality. He had just enough time to cover the portrait with another, half-finished one before the door slammed open and a blonde-haired man burst in and began yelling about deadlines and art gallery showings and have you finished that one of Miss Zwingli yet, she needs it by tomorrow, and Francis, used to his agent's frequent panics, just smiled and guided him out of the room, because it wouldn't do to have Arthur discover his portrait, at least not yet.
He made sure to insult Arthur's abnormally huge eyebrows at least once on the way to the kitchen. Insults were what the man thrived on, after all (that and tea), and red, particularly the red Arthur's face was turning, suited him quite well.
Night-before-school-nerves+no sleep+Sherlock Holmes soundtrack=what the fuck did I just write. I really really need to start on at least ONE of the four multichapter fics I have planned, but for some reason I'm stuck in a rut. A rut filled with drabbles. HELP.
Anyway, enjoy this retarded drabble encouraged by a mutant nuclear plot bunny.
If you haven't already heard Romani Holiday (Antonius Remix) by Hans Zimmerman, you should.