"That'll be six euros in total. Have a lovely morning, sir, I hope you enjoy your pastries and coffee."
Nathanaël tore into the bag as he walked down the crowded streets of Paris, taking care to not drop the tin of paint supported against his chest. Meals were scarce, enjoyed, and savoured by the poor boy. He barely gets enough food as it is, even if he doesn't spend all his money on important art supplies. But in respect to this, a honey-vanilla cream eclair with gold sprinkles was his favourite dish of the day, and half the time, his only one. Honestly, the balance between not eating and his aggressive work schedule, Nathanaël had a nice lean body. But he didn't really mind.
After he finished the pastry, he wiped the flavoured filling away from his mouth and turned down an alleyway, now separating himself from the teeming masses of society. He never liked more than a few people in his presence; it felt cramped and awkward. To him, the crowds were always too crowdy, or the busses were full of bustling, the trains packed with - what felt like tinned sardines packed in oil. Transportation was a no-go.
Walking was good for you anyway.
He licked the last part of the eclair off his fingers and then shifted the weight of the tin onto both arms instead of just the one. This precious cargo was way too valuable to for the job, he could not bear to drop it. This was the last tin of paint he needed before the mural could be advertised to the public, and he was so near completing his project. His walk wobbled a little under its weight, but he didn't really mind.
This project was going to be the biggest thing that has ever happened to him; a lowly artist with no especially big pieces to his name. But by some miraculous chance, the mayor had commisioned him to undertake this special task. He was honoured to be part of something so much bigger than himself, so of course, he agreed straight off the bat. For some strange and ridiculous reason, the mayor wanted him to paint a mural of the five Parisian heroes on the inside of a small cavern just outside Paris. Nathanaël had to admit, that cave was going to be the biggest canvas he's ever used, let alone the amount of paint he was using.
He took it as a challenge.
His lean arms lugged the tin all the way down to the alley, turning right when the opportunity became available. The maze of streets and alleyways were like an impossible labyrinth of the city, so much so that Nathanaël got lost the first time he walked through them alone. But now that he had memorised every corner and landmark, he could easily pass through the city and make his exit to the city limits.
The journey he took every morning lasted at least an hour and a half, mainly because it was a long tedious walk to the cave. Had he a car, or a jetpack, maybe he could do it in fifteen. Unfortunately, food was a higher priority than a set of wheels at the moment. Walking was the only means of getting to the rural side of Paris anyway. That's why he always starts early in the morning, so he can get a few solid hours of painting down before he has to leave again. Get ahead of the work and the job will be easy, or so his mother and father tell him.
However, the walk wasn't all that bad. Once he got outside the city, the scenery he got to enjoy was a nice, calm splendour of a summer-spring day. The soft and gradual fade of civilization disappearing grew as he trekked out further outside the city limits, a sight for his sore, tired eyes. When buildings became more and more scarce, it gave Nathanaël this wonderful sense of detachment from society. He enjoyed that feeling when it sent a tinge of relief throughout his body; the anxiety of loud noises and cars and people slowly slipping away as the songs of nature took over.
The long and infrequently travelled dirt road stretched through meadows and forests, and it made him feel just that little bit more welcome than the inner city. Everything outside the city was beautiful, so calm and relaxing.
The silence was a key part of the journey; it was at least an hour's walk and noise would make it feel longer. He was grateful he didn't have to take Alix on this journey again. She was a little too loud for his taste, and while she was one of the only people who tolerated his silences, he didn't rightly mind much of the girl. Which was weird; for an introvert, he was exceptionally flexible with other people's personalities...
Somehow, he had this bizarre habit of almost minding nothing.
One thing he did mind... was being followed by strange people in very poor disguises.
He stopped in the middle of the dirt road and gave an overexaggerated cough before continuing, "If you're going to tail me, very badly might I add, you might as well be in my company for it." He turned his body around and gave an annoyed death-glare to a large cardboard cutout of a bush. "Get out from behind there, whoever you are."
The badly-painted, stock-standard, 2D, kiddy-show type cartoon sort of a bush let out a little whine before picking itself up and slinking back away from the artist. Nathanaël was thoroughly annoyed by this point so he set down the tin of paint and straightened to confront the stranger.
"I SAID," he shouted at the bush, all the while he advanced on the retreating cardboard cutout, "get out from behind that monstrosity of a disguise or I will kick it down!"
"Alright!" a girl's voice squeaked. A pair of manicured hands shot up past the top of the cardboard. "I surrender, just let the bush live."
Nathanaël grabbed the edge of the cardboard and lifted it out of the way, unmasking the stalker.
"Chloé?!" he exclaimed before he tossed aside the disguise. There she was, squatting in the dirt. And yet the weirdest thing was she was smiling...
She stood up and brushed off the back of her clothing before smiling just a little brighter at him.
"Hello!" she piped up with a cheery voice.
No, it couldn't be, her smile seemed too genuine, too un-Chloé-like.
"What the heck are you doing following me?" Nathanaël demanded as he eyed her up and down. As bad as it seemed, he didn't notice the fake bush until five minutes ago. And with only ten minutes of walking left in the journey, that could only mean one thing; she could have been sneaking behind him the entire time.
She tapped her lip with an index finger innocently as she thought of her answer. "No idea!" she chuckled as she shrugged her shoulders. "Call it curiosity or boredom, but I wanted an adventure today and you fit the bill!"
Nathanaël was at a lost for words.
"Daddy said you had a project you were working on and I was not meant to disturb you. But here I am! So the real question everyone is asking is 'what are you doing?'"
Nathanaël felt his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and his headache increasing by the minute. He was meant to have a quiet day. A day that started with picking up the paint, getting a coffee and eclair, avoiding Alix, and getting his job done. Simple as that.
"You know what?" he quietly said, throwing his hands in the air, "I don't care! Follow me all you like! The cave is literally right around the corner, so why don't you come in for a spot of tea? Why, that sounds like a mighty fine idea! Doesn't it now?"
Chloé nodded enthusiastically and Nathanaël cracked an insane smile. He couldn't tell her to go away, the walk was far too long to trek back alone. He was literally stuck with her, stuck until was willing to leave of her own free will.
He could feel his eye twitching from the stress of sleep deprivation and the newfound accompaniment.
As they walked into the open mouth cave, Chloé was taken aback in awe, frozen at the sight of his project. Never had she seen this level of complexity in a mural before. And while Chloé was expecting something big, she didn't expect an enlarged image of her alter-ego, Queen Bee, to be one of the main features. She would have accepted it if the mural was roughly ten feet tall... but when the painted blue eyes of Queen Bee loomed over her with such magnificence, she couldn't help feeling so small.
Nathanaël pushed past her and strode over the other end of the cave, lugging the paint can across the large smooth rock floor and setting in down in the corner.
"Wha.." she started before he interrupted her train of thought with a loud crack of a screwdriver prying open the tin.
He tossed the lid aside and let it clang to the floor, preparing himself to get stuck into work as she merely stood there. Nathanaël was under a commission, not an hourly rate, so he couldn't spend a single second chit chatting when there was work to be done. Before he immersed himself in the art of... art... he did turn around and walked back to the entrance of the cave, stopping in front of Chloé before pointing to a small fire pit and tea kettle. "You came here for tea, please, make yourself at home. We're going to be here for a couple hours. If you know how to build a fire, do so."
She was dumbfounded at the size of the portraits. How the heck did a small boy like Nathanaël manage to paint such a detailed profiles of her partners, Chat Noir, Ladybug, Rena Rogue, Carapace... All of them, including her.
Chloé slowly paced around the room, taking in the magnificence of the five full-body portraits as they towered over her. Each one focused on the fine details of the heroes, giving the overall masterpiece this sense of surreal dominance. Each one felt as if countless days had been poured into them, the rock walls shaping their movements as they miss cracks and fly through obstacles. Queen Bee had taken flight, soaring above the heads of the viewer, and gazing down in a sense of peaceful security.
Nathanaël picked up the tin and walked over to the awestruck Chloé, stepping around her frozen body and making a b-line to the scaffolding hugging the wall.
She snapped back to reality and called up to the artist, who was currently climbing a steel staircase with a full tin of paint in his hands. "Hey, Red!"
"Yeah, Blondie?" he retorted, which she huffed at before continuing.
"How can a guy with so much talent... have so little friends?"
He stopped moving up the stairs and burst out laughing. He turned to her and smiled a tired smile. Of all the people that could have asked him, of course it was going to be Chloé. She hadn't changed a single bit since they left Lycée, and if anything, she got weirder. She knew nothing about him, about his art, about his troubles. But, he wanted to entertain the idea that she had in some way meant that last comment as something else than an insult.
"You know, Chloé, if you present to me someone who will take me for who I am, I will most certainly give them my acquaintanceship," he said with a chuckle. He turned back to walking up the stairs as she thought of what to say next.
"What about the heroes?" she called up to him, taking a step forward and cupping her hand over her cheek. "I'm sure they want to be your friend! You're painting them aren't you?"
"Chloé," he started, stopping once more on the steps as he grew tiresome of her blabbering. "Do you see any heroes here? Are they kicking down the door, shouting my praises?"
He quickly stopped her before she could answer, "HA, no you don't!"
He chuckled and turned back to the stairs, now reaching the top of the scaffolding. "That's why this mural is going to stay anonymous. I don't want the attention."
"What do you mean you don't want attention?" Chloé shouted up to him. "Everyone wants attention!"
"I guess I don't," he called back to her. He set down the paint tin and retrieved a brush from his pant pocket.
"Tell me why, Kurtzburg! I will leave you alone if you tell me why you don't like the attention when you so clearly deserve it."
"Because..." he said dipping the brush into the paint. He hesitated before striking the brush across the rock. "Well... to start off, I'll give you a little lesson."
Chloé stood quiet, silenced by his words and his work.
"For me, I have this weird sense of reasoning inside my head. That life... is just a canvas of time, and with each passing moment... another brushstroke adds to the splendour of colours that make our self-portrait," he explained clearly, the cave amplifying his speech for Chloé to hear perfectly every word. He spoke while he worked, spreading large strokes of paint over the wall.
Chloé slowly sat down, intrigued by the artist's spouting.
"And, well..." he scoffed spreading his arms out and gesturing to his body with his back turned to her, "our self-chosen palette... controls how people view our lives. And what I mean to say, is how we conduct our hand..." he stared down at his paint-spattered fingers, "shows the stress of effort on behalf of the artist and their true worth." He took a step back and looked up, gazing up at the towering heroes and lowering his voice in awe. "Each relationship compliments a collaboration of wonderous pieces mashed together as the masterpiece of humanity. A true beauty is the genuine emotions expressed towards each other."
He released a heartfelt sigh.
"However," he pushed himself back into the work, speeding up as he spread more and more paint across the surface, "as time passes, emotions become the layers of paint, hidden and concealed by the paintbrush of self-consciousness, forced by the dull monotony of repetition that smudges our vibrancy!"
"And yet," he chuckled, "no matter how often those boring prosecutors attacks this canvas, the greys of this world cannot mask the beauty that lies beneath. A relationship stretches beyond the product a single painting, instead, it generates a unique treasure based on the deep colours of love and human affection!"
He slowly lowered his voice, giving the faces of the strong and steadfast protectors of Paris one more thoughtful look.
"Each of these heroes have shown the world their magnificent brilliance through actions and their teamwork..." he genuinely stated before turning back to her.
"So who am I..." he announced, bowing low like a humble servant, "to have their undeserved appreciation."
A heavy silence hung in the air. Nathanaël straightened as Chloé remained silent.
Chloé didn't know what to do. As Queen Bee... no... as Chloé, she loved the paintings in every way. They were beautiful without compare. All the heroes would love the piece. She loves the piece. But she couldn't tell him... not without revealing her identity as Queen Bee. So she prevailed in her silence, and merely applauded his speech in slow awestruck claps.
And while Nathanaël was the first to turn away, Chloé saw that he looked happy and content with that fact that he was unrecognised in his work.
He was willing to leave the signature blank, because he appreciates the heroes more than the art.