miss_bilvy

Colours Fade | Gabe/William | NC-17 | 16,267 words
This is it. The StreetArtist!Fic. I think I'm probably the one most excited about this, just because it's like a milestone for me. I've been told it's different than normal fics, but I do hope that everyone likes it. I could ramble forever about this but I think i'll just do that in another entry. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy.

"Its really different to what you normally write. Like, they're all really good but.. This one's like its coming from a completely different voice. Like if you and I wrote the exact same story and then read them both, they'd be really different. It's like that."
- Kia; Epic friend, epic beta, epic ranga ♥

It was foreign and scary to look at a piece of paper and see a piece of paper. He didn't even see the white. He just saw paper. Dead trees, cut and sawed into strips and sold again. He didn't even get inspiration from that. The sad, dead stuff was never his style, which was why William painted on the streets in the first place. The inspiration he got from just sitting there and watching day to day life was marvellous. But now, he would stand and stare at his empty canvas, drawing a blank. Not even that, because William wasn't drawing anything at all.

William hadn't had an artist's block before. The closest thing to one was when he was a child trying to use crayons and his mother pushed some toy building blocks towards him instead so he couldn't reach his colouring book. Really. That was as close as he'd gotten. Ever. It was foreign and scary to look at a piece of paper and see a piece of paper. He didn't even see the white. He just saw paper. Dead trees, cut and sawed into strips and sold again. He didn't even get inspiration from that. The sad, dead stuff was never his style, which was why William painted on the streets in the first place. The inspiration he got from just sitting there and watching day to day life was marvellous. But now, he would stand and stare at his empty canvas, drawing a blank. Not even that, because William wasn't drawing anything at all. He was thinking a blank, standing with his lip crushed between his teeth. He felt like he did back in high school, back in maths class. He'd be too tired to concentrate, so he'd sit and stare at the question. He knew the equation, but at the same time he was so lost. He could do it, but he couldn't. All he did was sit an stare at these numbers and letters and square root and division signs, not knowing what it meant, only knowing it was there. He'd never had that trouble with art, but hey, here he was, thinking a blank.

He heard a car drive past his window and if he stopped concentrating on nothing then he could hear the police sirens in the background. He didn't, though. He just stayed, sitting up in bed with his empty sketch pad in his lap and a pencil tucked behind his ear. The only light in the room were the city lights outside his apartment window and the soft, green glow of his alarm clock, struggling in the semi darkness to tell him that it was 3:02, which was far too late at night to be awake, still. It kind of hurt a little to close his art book and put it aside without so much as a single line drawn on the paper, and yet, he was closing his empty art book and putting it aside, without so much as a single line drawn on the paper. He'd done it the night before and the night before that, and every other night in the previous week. He was starting to feel empty. He missed his art. It was the only thing that distracted him from the police sirens at three in the morning and the fact that he couldn't afford jack shit. He didn't need to afford jack shit when he was drawing or painting, only the paint. He didn't even need money for that, because he had a friend in the local market who gave him free paint just because they loved to see William when he was at work.

A quiet, shaky sigh was released and William laid down, turning his clock to face the wall so he couldn't see the irritating green glow that reminded him that he was still suffering from minor insomnia. When he painted, he still stayed up until three am, but he didn't notice. He didn't want to go to sleep. But now, William was starting to forget how sweet that feeling was. He shut his eyes tightly and gripped his pillow even tighter so, curling up into a little ball as he tried lulling himself to sleep.

-

Sunday morning was a painful one. William didn't want to get out of bed when his alarm clock started beeping, its own way of screaming at him to wake up. He wanted to slap it shut and curl back up into a ball and stay like that forever. A little cocoon in his bed sheets. Yeah. That sounded alright. But alas, he had to get up. There was always going to be the itching feeling in the back of his head that whispered What if today is the day? and it just wont shut up, it wont stop thinking that Maybe today the block will go away. So William got up. He got up and showered slowly and grabbed his keys and his art case and sketch pad. He wanted to bitch at someone just for the sake of it, but the only person he could bitch at was himself. It was his fault after all for staying up so late.

When William got to the main area of town (walking, of course. Money for a taxi was totally out of the question) he headed straight for the market squares where people set up their own stalls every weekend and sometimes during the week. When it wasn't being used by sellers, it was just another community area where people could walk, talk and meet up. Like a park with stone instead of grass, really. He walked past the market centre and towards a stall near a short line of cafes, heading straight over to a certain stall with the tiniest of fake smiles on his face.

"Good morning, Bill!" A girl chimed from the stall, sitting back on a deck chair.

"Morning, Cass. Slow business this morning?" William asked, setting his case down and his sketchbook next to it so his gear was leaning against the table.

Cassadee shrugged one shoulder as got off her chair and down onto her knees to rummage around for something under the table. "It's gotta go slow before it can speed up!" She said with a smile, emerging back on two feet with an old wooden box in her arms. William didn't understand how she could be so cheery when she barely sold a thing, but he dared not disprove her logic and instead just smiled and shrugged.

"I guess so." It would be a nice thing to believe in.

She opened the box and shoved it towards William, but he simply shook his head and looked down at his case. "No thanks, hun. I've still got the supplies you gave me last week," he kept his head down and tried not to sigh, really, but as over dramatic as it may have been, William really needed to sigh.

"Still got that block?"

William didn't want to answer so he just nodded towards the easel on the other side of her stall. She jumped and nodded, quickly grabbing it and starting to fold it out so he could use it for the day. He murmured a thank you and gave her a short hug, then moving over to stand by the easel. His art was one of the only things that attracted customers to her stall, so with the artist block, there wasn't much on the canvas. Which meant there weren't many customers, which meant there was barely any money in her pocket. If Cassadee didn't get money, William didn't get paint. If William didn't get paint, he didn't sell paintings (like ten dollars would really give his life much of a difference) and so he'd have to stop art altogether.

William didn't want that to happen.

At noon, Cassadee left for a few minutes to get them both a coffee and blueberry muffins. She didn't say anything about William's blank canvas because William looked like he could have cried if she did. Like he didn't already know it was blank. He'd spent at least at hour studying the canvas itself, wondering how factories made it so perfectly. The thought was boring though, so his luncheon coffee and muffin was a pleasant distraction.

An hour later, William's coffee cup was half empty and cold. His muffin was barely touched and William still had nothing on that canvas.

Another hour later, nothing had changed.

It was three in the afternoon that William decided he'd go home and take his slight depression with him. He said good bye to Cassadee and helped pack up his things, leaving her with his art products. He knew he wouldn't need them that night. He just picked up his coffee and threw it in the bin, leaving the market square and heading back home. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't thirsty. He just wanted to go home and head a few hours head start on that insomnia.

-

William woke up that night around one in the morning. He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling when it hit him. It felt like God had just taken a stroll into the neighbourhood, knocked on his door and said Hey, got any artist's block you need clearing up? so William obviously said yes. He flung himself out of bed and scrambled for the light switch, knocking things over on his way. He needed this. It was his one chance. One chance. When he finally had the light on and his eyes had adjusted to the lack of darkness, he ran to his bedside table. He went to grab his sketch book but no, fuck no! he'd left it with Cassadee. Fuck chance, fuck irony and fuck God. He dropped to his knees and tried to find another piece of paper or something under his bed, the desperation starting to kick in as his breathing got heavier from running around and working his brain at a hundred miles an hour. The entire apartment had been searched and his bedroom was completely upturned at one-thirty when William gave up. He kicked his bed and spun around to punch the wall, leaving a slight hole that would cost far too much to fix.

After rolling around for three hours, William finally fell asleep. When he woke up, he couldn't remember what he wanted to draw. He remembered why he'd punched the wall, though, and kind of wanted to do it again. William didn't get out of bed that day.

-

Come Wednesday, William wanted nothing more than to walk around. Glad that the markets were open on a Wednesday, he skipped showering and eating and just walked straight to the market square with his hands buried in his jeans pockets. He ignored when Cassadee waved her arms at him and beamed, beckoning him over, because he was heading that way anyway. He murmured a good morning and grabbed a deck chair from her stall, opening it out and taking a seat. He doubted he'd be able to paint that day, so he decided he'd sit down instead of stand up. That way his legs wouldn't get as sore. It took a moment for him to realise that Cassadee wasn't setting up his easel and instead just standing there next to him, but he still took his time to turn his head and face her. The second he did, she shoved his sketch book and a pencil into his chest.

"Draw."

William didn't even get to open his mouth. She just uttered the word then moved back to her stall to help out a woman who was looking at some of her paints and brushes. William let out a sigh and looked down at the book, figuring that he might as well open it up first. As he flicked past a few pages, his eyes scanned the market square, noticing a few more people around. A lot of them were gathering around a stall fairly close to Cassadee's; a stall he hadn't seen before.

"Cass?" He called, "Who's that amateur?"

Cassadee looked over at William then to the man who he was referring to. She turned and grinned back at her friend, leaning forward on her stall table. "That's Gabe. He set up yesterday when you weren't here. Selling music; old vinyl and stuff. Really cool," she shrugged, standing up straighter again when a man tried to get her attention to inquire about her paints.

William, though. William stared at this man's stall, this, Gabe. He bit his lip and just kept staring, his eyes slowly starting to wander from the stall itself to the man behind it. He really did look like an amateur, but the music was popular so he was already doing better off than Cassadee was. William only caught himself staring when he noticed Gabe was walking over to him, a shy smile on his face. He immediately straightened up in his seat and pretended that he wasn't interested, but Gabe didn't stop walking until he was right in front of William.

"Hey," he murmured nervously, taking a glance over at Cassadee before back at William. "Are you, um, Bill? I'm Gabe." Gabe held a hand out, obviously just wanting to make friends. William didn't see it like that. Gabe was taking his and Cass' customers, so he just nodded and kept his head on the page.

"You're blocking my view," he said quietly, looking up at Gabe through dark lashes. He saw Gabe's smile instantly fall to a frown, his hand dropping back to his side.

"Sorry," he started, not seeming like he was going to move any time soon. "It just didn't look like you had anything on your page."

William stood up and threw the book down onto the chair. "What does it matter to you? Ever heard of artist's block?" He didn't mean to snap, honestly. But William didn't like having people point it out to him that he couldn't do something. Even if it was because something was in his way, like those damn building blocks. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head, taking one look at Cassadee before turning back to Gabe. "I'm going out to lunch." He said nothing more, deciding that Gabe didn't deserve anything more anyway. He turned and walked away, heading over to one of the cafes near Cassadee's stall.

William stopped when he was inside and leant against one of the empty tables. He didn't have any money. He let out a sigh and chewed his lip, telling himself not to look or go back. Resisting was painful, but surely enough, the door soon opened and William was being shoved aside by Cassadee. "What are you doing?" She snapped, though still sounding rather friendly. Only Cassadee could really pull that off. She knew William had no money. She told him this. He grunted and turned away. "William," she said sternly, walking over and taking his arm, "He's nice. I wanted you guys to meet up, what's your problem?"

William shook his head and pulled his arm from Cassadee's grip. "Buy me a coffee." Cassadee gave him a look and he quickly added, "Please?" Which was the only reason that he managed to walk out of the cafe with a mocha in his hands.

Gabe didn't seem to be too offended by William's little outburst beforehand, but at least he was staying over by his stall. William drank his coffee and stayed in his little deck chair, only half resisting the urge not to stare again. It took a few good hours before the majority of buyers had left the square, leaving only the love birds and children who had come out of school at three o'clock. William had a blank page and an empty coffee cup, but hey, that was nothing new. While packing up, he decided he would take his art book that time, just in case he had another midnight incident like the last. He tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and kept it there with his pencil, his art book tucked under his arm.

"I'll see you on Saturday, William," Cassadee said, rather sadly. Her stall wasn't open on Thursdays or Fridays, unfortunately, so the poor girl always felt a little lonely having to wait two extra days before she saw William. He just smiled and gave her a half-hearted hug good bye, waiting until she had left and packed up before he decided he would do the same.

"Hey, Bill!"

William groaned and turned around when he heard Gabe calling out to him. "I prefer the name William, you know," he pointed out, but Gabe only shrugged. "Cass only calls me Bill."

"She seems alright."

"She is."

A few seconds of silence passed with the two standing, staring, occasionally shifting their feet awkwardly. William saw Gabe look down at his art book and saw him open and close his mouth, seeming to decide on what to say. William noticed that kind of thing. Facial expressions, body language. He was a human lie detector. He watched people every day, like it was his career, though sadly, it kind of was. He watched people walk and talk and lie through their teeth. He saw couples kiss and read the words "I love you" come from their lips, and he could spot every liar. It wasn't hard for him, it was just experience.

"What's artist's block like?" Gabe's voice caught William off guard again and he had to break himself from his trance to realise the question, then think of how to answer. What was artist's block like?

"You can't do anything," he said quietly, keeping his sketch pad under one arm. "You get ideas but then you immediately push them away, like you know that you're not going to be happy with the end result so you don't want to get your hopes up by trying." William could have sworn that he saw Gabe's eyes instantly look slightly sadder, but he continued nonetheless. Now that he'd started, he needed to get it off his chest. Out loud. "You might start a picture but you end up wasting canvas or paper. It never looks how it is in your head. In your head it looks like something painted by.. I don't know, Michael Angelo, perhaps. But you do at least two brush strokes and that's a page ripped from your book. But when it's worse than that, you can't even bring yourself to make those strokes, can't even think of something to paint. You just rip up blank paper and feel horrible about it. When you get an idea it's a weight off your chest, but when you try to fulfil that idea then you change it around, change your mind. You don't feel like drawing it any more. Never did. You just saw the opportunity and grasped at it, not realising that you were setting yourself up for a dead end." He finally took a breath and looked down, realising that yeah, he kind of just spilled his guts to a total stranger.

"It must be horrible," and even though it's all Gabe really knew what to say, William understood. William was fine with it. "Have you thought about listening to music?" So yeah, William was caught off guard again by that. He lifts his head to look at Gabe shrug and frowns.

"What?"

"Music. I listen to music sometimes and it makes me want to write stuff. Paint stuff. Though, I can't paint for shit, but, you know." Gabe shrugged and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, shifting his weight onto one foot. William watched the movement and had to remind himself to look at Gabe's face, not his body.

"I.. I don't have a CD player. Or an iPod," he admitted, sounding rather ashamed. As a kid he listened to music. A lot. But now? Now, there was none. Only what he heard on the radio when he walked past shops or caught public transport with radio systems. He didn't like what he heard, but it was all he could get.

"You could... You know, borrow mine? I don't mind, artist's block sounds like it blows," Gabe offered, but William stopped listening at the word 'borrow'. Gabe was willing to offer a stranger to use his mp3 player? An expensive mp3 player? William just chewed his lip and stared up at him, not really believe what he was being offered.

"I.. Uhm, wh-what music do you have?" Like it would make a difference. William knew shit about modern music.

Gabe just shrugged. "Lots of stuff."

He didn't really get to say much more, for William had dropped his sketch book and embraced Gabe in a hug. A tight hug.

-

William couldn't remember the last time he had willingly stayed awake until four am. He had been sitting in bed with his legs crossed and the duvet pushed to the end of the mattress, his art book in front of him. He had ten pages left. Ten. He had gone home with thirty pages left, but now he had ten. He really only had Gabe's iPod to thank. And of course, Gabe. He had cringed when he found Gabe's collection of rap and hip hop, just as much as he cringed when he found the pop music. The dance and techno beats were okay, but he was looking for something with lyrics. Air. Inspiration. Music that made him want to paint and draw without even knowing what he was doing. To put his pencil to the paper and feel like it was taking over his arm, doing all the work. Short strokes, long strokes, hard strokes and soft strokes. He'd filled twenty pages in no time and he was now just sitting there, working on something a little different. He told himself to slow down, to draw something meaningful. So he drew a smile. His worked his pencil around the lips to make a smirk and gently started shading from there. He formed a chin and cheeks and down to his jaw, then up around to the person's eyes. Crows feet. Laugh marks. Yeah, that looked right. He didn't even realise that he was grinning as he was drawing, a quiet Owl City song filling his ears which would surely be stuck in his head the next day.

William hadn't had a song stuck in his head for a long time.

He was constantly switching between his 2B pencil and his 6B, something a little thicker. It helped him shade, helped it to look more real. He started working on clothes, hair, then gave the eyes their much needed detail. He made them shine, shimmer, staring out from the paper to go with the little smirk down by those lips. So when he looked down, placing his pencils aside, he paused with his lip between his teeth. He didn't see a piece of paper staring back at him, he didn't see a man or a woman. He saw Gabe. He drew Gabe. William didn't throw it out though. He just smiled again, deciding enough was enough. He took the earphones out of his ears and turned the device off, placing everything aside. William slept like a baby that night.

-

When William walked to the market square the next morning, he barely noticed the bounce in his own step. He didn't realise he was singing that song in his head, didn't realise that this was what being happy felt like. Apart from the fact he was smiling, William was clueless. Gabe, however, noticed. William stopped by Cassadee's stall, even though the table was empty, and placed his things down. Gabe must have arrived early, because his vinyl were already set up. There weren't many early birds at the market though, so his music was safe when he walked over to see William.

"Hey," he grinned, seeing the smile on William's face. He knew William could smile, he just needed proof of it.

"Hey." William beamed back as he reached into his hoodie pocket, holding out the iPod and the earphones wrapped around it. Gabe took a few seconds before he realised what William was giving him, then took it back with a smile. "You have no idea-" William murmured, flicking through a few pages of his art book before looking back up at Gabe, "-how much that helped me."

Gabe chuckled and it seemed that his smile refused to go away. He leant against the table and watched William's hands, watched the pages turning yet too fast for him to see what each little intricate drawing was. "I'm glad, really. You're smiling today, too. Like, really wide. Your face is in half."

William instantly turned red and bit his lip to try and stop the smile, but the fucking thing wouldn't go away. "Thanks... For letting me borrow it, I mean." He fumbled with the book when he got to the drawing of Gabe, quickly shutting it before even he had a chance to look at it properly.

"So," Gabe nodded, hands finding their way to his pockets.

"So."

"Can I get a better introduction?" He asked, lifting one hand to scratch the back of his neck. When William tilted his head in confusion, he quickly added, "Rather than yesterday- -You brushed me off to buy coffee and I feel worthless."

William kind of wanted to cuddle Gabe again. So he did. He didn't actually expect himself to but he'd already let out a soft 'awh' and reached across the table before he had a chance to stop himself. Gabe didn't seem to complain, though. He did seem rather affectionate. "I'm sorry, I... You know, the block. It gets me bitchy."

"I can see," Gabe smirked.

William rolled his eyes but held onto Gabe's hand as if they were shaking with one another, meeting for the first time. "It's lovely to meet you, Gabe. I'm William. I paint here most of the week to help out Cassadee," he explained, not realising that he was kind of still, yeah, holding Gabe's hand. Gabe didn't pull away.

"It's lovely to meet you too, William," Gabe smirked, lifting William's hand to kiss the back of it lightly. He noticed William going red and tentatively pull his hand back to rest on the table. "I, oh, sorry, would your girlfriend get mad?" He chuckled.

William paused.

"What?"

"Cassadee?"

It took a total of ten seconds for William to get what that meant. He 'ohh'ed then laughed, shaking his head. "No, no. Cassadee's my friend. I'm. A bit more of a girl than she is." He's a lot more of a girl than she is, but William wasn't going to give off the total fruitcake aura just yet. He concentrated more on trying to ignore that grin that cut Gabe's face in half, instead looking down at his art book to hide his own smile.

"Well then, William. I'll leave you to it. Maybe sometime I could see some of your art," Gabe suggested, not letting William give a definite answer before he walked back to his stall.

-

William thought that spending the day without Cassadee at his stall would be a horrible one. Just like every other Thursday. Was it? Fuck no. Of course, a lot of the time was spent watching Gabe and his stall, kind of envying that he actually got customers. It was around eleven before William finally started setting a few things up, but it wasn't the art supplies that Cassadee normally sold. On Thursdays, William had his own time to shine. He laid out what he thought were his best pieces of art and sometimes, he got a few buyers. That day, though, he placed down three of his art books and opened them to their first pages. He'd let people look all they wanted, for he only wanted to sell his pencil drawings that day. Including the ones he had done the previous night.

He felt a little giddy when he saw a few people walk over to the table as he was setting up his easel to work on a new painting. Always keeping an eye on the art books, he continued to glance over at Gabe's stall as he dipped his brush in the paint.

-

"Excuse me?"

William hadn't realised he was being spoken to until a hand tapped his shoulder, the jump almost making him flick his wrist and paint somewhere that he should've have. He turned to look at this person, seeing a hopeful little smile on a woman's face. "Can I help you, sorry?" William asked, placing his brush down on the easel and looking over at the table.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering how much one of your drawings were?"

William grinned and had to stop himself from jumping, squealing or anything else that might scare this woman away. "I- -Of course, uhm, which one?" He asked, hurrying over with her to where his sketch pads lay on the table with a few curious hands looking through them.

"The man, it's the last drawing in this one." The woman touched William's grey art pad, the one that he carried around with him most often. He suddenly swallowed when he realised which one she was talking about, having to bite his lip as he picked up the book.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said quietly, an apologetic look on his face. "That one's not for sale."

The woman gave him an odd look and pulled out a purse from her hand bag. "Please? It's really beautiful, I'd love to buy it. Whatever price you want!" She pleaded, an offer so tempting to William's penniless pockets. He knew better, though, and had to shake his head.

"I'm sorry. Any other, just not that one."

Perhaps it was the desperation William mirrored in his eyes or just the slightly pleading sadness of his tone that made her agree. She didn't seem incredibly pleased, but at least William made a little bit of money and at least he got to keep his sketch of Gabe. He thanked her, carefully ripped it from the pad and used a paper cutter from under the table to neatly slice off the jagged edge of the paper from the drawing she'd chosen. He pocketed the cash, not really having anywhere else to put it, then walked back over to his half-finished painting.

-

According to the town clock that was in view of those in the market square, time had passed alarmingly fast. William had lost himself in his painting, more or less happy that he had more than a few bare lines on his canvas. He smiled the entire time that he painted and it had nothing to do with him selling five drawings that day. He turned to dip his brush in his little jar of water so he could smudge some of his colours when he saw Gabe standing right next to him. He jumped, again, quickly grabbing onto his canvas so it wouldn't fall down in case he knocked it off the easel.

“Uh, surprise?” Gabe mused, hands buried in his pockets again. William quickly moved so he was standing in front of the painting so it wouldn't be in complete view.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked nervously, shyly, quietly. William looked down before back up at Gabe, hoping that if he had seen the painting, then he wouldn't poke fun at it.

“Just a few minutes. I came to let you know how late it was- -You were really zoned out, huh?”

William shrugged then nodded, turning back around to face the canvas. He figured that Gabe had seen enough, anyway. “I guess I was. I get like that sometimes, I can't really help it. Sorry.” He immediately just lifted his brush to paint where he was going to paint before Gabe interrupted him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“How long have you been painting for?” And the hushed volume and the feeling of Gabe's breath let William know that he was standing close. “This picture... It's amazing.”

William was hesitant to answer. He was always hesitant to answer. He always wished he could be a prodigy, like one of those men who could pick up a brush for the first time and paint a beauty like the Mona Lisa. Yet, he couldn't. He never could. He'd been playing with paints since a child and crayons before that. He drew more than he wrote in school and even though he got in trouble, he never stopped. It just took so much practise to get it right. So after a moment of hesitancy, William put his brush down and turned his head to look at Gabe.

“A while.”

He decided it was all Gabe needed to know, because even though it wasn't that bad a feeling to have Gabe's hand on his shoulder and their hips a mere inch or so from touching, Gabe was still a stranger. Knowing names wasn't enough for William. It took a lot more than that to trust somebody.

“Everything is beautiful,” Gabe nodded, slowly taking his hand away without really noticing that William enjoyed the warmth that his palm gave off.

“This is the only picture of mine that you've seen,” William pointed out, turning to face him properly. He noticed that it was actually rather late, the sky was orange and there was barely anyone in the square, though even if it was just as crowded then William would only be paying attention to he and Gabe.

“I can still call it beautiful,” Gabe merely shrugged, his hand finding its proper place back in his pocket. “A lot of people seemed interested in these, too,” he added, turning and picking up one of William's art diaries. William was a breath away from telling him to give it back, but then again, if it wasn't for Gabe and Gabe's iPod, then there would be barely any drawings in that sketchbook.

His hands were ready to lash out and take the book if Gabe made one wrong move with it, but the man just stood there with it in his arms as he carefully turned the pages. William didn't expect it to hold his interest for so long, though, because by the time he glanced up at the clock and then back down again, Gabe had turned to the last page. The drawing of him.

William expected to have Gabe either laugh, scream, yell or walk away. He didn't expect silence. No, definitely not. But that's what he got. He watched uncomfortably as Gabe just stared at the picture, a hand resting on the corner of the page like he wanted to touch it but was afraid to do damage. “William, this is amazing.”

William definitely wasn't expecting that.

“When did you draw this? Was this yesterday? It's... Wow. It looks just like me. I think. Does it?” Gabe held the book up and grinned, holding it next to his face like he was comparing the two. Because really, he was comparing the two. William really shouldn't have giggled, but alas, he giggled. It only made Gabe smile wider.

“Yeah... I did it yesterday. Or, this morning. Depends. I just stay up late sometimes.” William's toe kicked nervously at the ground again as Gabe lowered the art book so he could look at it some more. “Do you uhm, want it? I mean, so many people tried to buy it today. I don't want to go through the same hassle of saying no next time,” he laughed nervously, deciding that he should busy his hands by taking the canvas down from the easel and pack up his gear.

Gabe, though. Gabe turned and grabbed William's wrist to stop him. “You didn't want to sell it? How come? You could have made so much from this!” He seemed genuinely surprised, something that made William... well, genuinely surprised.

“I just didn't want to. Y'know? I worked hard on that one, I didn't want any old stranger having it in their house,” he shrugged, slowly taking his hand from Gabe's grip so he could continue packing up.

“I'll buy it from you,” Gabe said suddenly, placing the book down. He didn't take his eyes from William, a determined kind of look on his face.

William stopped. “What?”

“I'll buy it from you.”

“Gabe, no.”

Gabe took a breath and ran his fingers down the page. ”Hmm, well, am I still a stranger, then?”

William leant against the easel again. He remembered what he was thinking about before, because really, Gabe was a total stranger to him. Yet, there he was a few hours prior, drawing a sketch of him just so he could remember what he looked like. “Maximum price is free,” he said quietly, turning away so he wouldn't see him as he started putting the paints away.

Gabe smiled, even if William couldn't see it. “I'll let you keep it, then,” he shrugged again, glancing at his feet and waiting as William put the rest of his things away. It was a few minutes before he finished, turning and looking at Gabe oddly when he did.

“How come you're still here?” He asked, trying his hardest not to sound rude. Really.

“Because I was thinking whether I should offer to buy you lunch, tomorrow,” Gabe admitted, leaning against the stall table quite casually.

William instantly felt a little jittery but had to remind himself that this guy was a stranger. A stranger that showed him hospitality, a stranger who he had put a lot of time into drawing and a stranger who let him borrow something that William easily could have stolen and resold. But he was still a stranger. Did that stop William?

“You should. Offer, I mean.”

Gabe grinned and took his hands out of his pockets, one of them now holding his cell phone. He checked the time on the little screen then pocketed it again, took a glance around, then leant a little closer like what he was saying would be secretive, like William couldn't let anyone else know.

“Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

William just smiled shyly at that and nodded. “I'll meet you here at twelve. I don't normally come into town on Fridays.”

“Neither do I.”

Gabe turned to the back cover of William's sketchbook and quickly scrawled down his cell phone number, not knowing that William didn't have one of his own. He could call from the land line, but that would cost money that William didn't have. He decided he'd just meet Gabe there instead of causing a drama by calling. They left faster than they came, and even though William tried hard not to look back at Gabe and Gabe's stall, he couldn't really resist giving him a little smile.

-

Come Friday, William was feeling pretty good about himself. He showered and tried to look his best, even though he was ninety percent certain that it was just a lunch. At least it gave him the excuse to try and look nice for something. Other than finding a decent outfit and actually combing his hair right, he grabbed an art book and slid a pencil behind his ear just like he always would. He didn't know if Gabe wanted to talk art or just talk, but he didn't want to take any chances of making things awkward.

When he got to the square, William waited at Cassadee's stall. She wouldn't come on a Friday either, but he just hoped that this was where Gabe wanted to meet. As he waited, he started doodling in his art book, soon becoming distracted enough that he didn't notice when Gabe came over and stood basically right in front of him.

“Good afternoon,” Gabe tapped William's book, chuckling a little when William jumped.

“Could have warned me, first...” He muttered, but kept that smile on his face as he stood up properly and closed his book, tucking his pencil back where it belonged behind one ear.

-

Gabe had led them only a few metres away from the stall, in fact, it turned out that he had chosen one of the cafe restaurants that were down the strip right close to the market square. William wasn't unimpressed, of course, but in fact happy with the decision. He was familiar with these shops, this area of town. It was probably the only area of town that he was familiar with. So he just smiled, thanked Gabe and sat down at the booth that the other had chosen; right up close to a window.

“What do you feel like?” Gabe asked, shifting around in the booth as he tried to get his wallet out of his back pocket. Normally in a situation like this, William would offer to pay. The only trouble was that he couldn't pay. If Gabe said that sure, he would just pay next time, then William would just have embarrassed himself. No use in doing that, was there?

“Espresso... And a, um, just a blueberry muffin?” He asked, looking down at his art book resting on the seat next to him, drawing small invisible shapes on the back with his finger.

“Jesus Christ, no wonder you're so thin,” Gabe murmured, sitting properly now as he rummaged through his wallet to get the right amount of cash he needed. William just rolled his eyes though, trying to think of something else to order that Gabe would be okay with. “I'll get you a sandwich too. Just to make sure you're not going hungry or anything.” He cut in before William really had a chance to think, already standing up from where he'd been sitting. William just smiled and murmured a soft agreement before he just sat back and watched, waited for Gabe to return.

When he was finally sitting back in the booth, William felt a little comforted, just to have the company.

“I saw you brought your art book,” Gabe grinned, leaning his elbows against the table top and his chin in both palms. William nodded shyly and looked back down at the sketchbook, debating whether or not he should show Gabe anything just yet. He wasn't vain, more or less the opposite. Fairly modest. But he knew that in certain fields, he had to know if he was good or bad and he had to talk about it; otherwise he'd get nowhere.

“I guess I did, yeah,” he shrugged, deciding that hey, Gabe had already seen his art, so it shouldn't hurt to show him more. He lifted up his art book and set it down on the table, so that way, Gabe could look if he wanted to, but nothing was being forced under his nose. William thought he saw Gabe go to reach for the book, but turn his head to the counter when his name was called.

“That's us. I'll be right back,” Gabe murmured, still smiling as he slid out of the booth and watched over to get their lunch.

While he waited, William took the pencil from his ear and tried to balance it on his finger. His attention span completely died after about five seconds of failing, so he averted his patience on something more constructive. Art. He smiled a little to himself as he opened the art book, trying to find a blank page. Before he really succeeded, though, Gabe was walking over while balancing their drinks and snacks in his arms.

“Shit, don't drop anything or you'll burn yourself,” William pointed out, reaching over to take the food and set it down on the table. Gabe mumbled a thank you as he sat down, but quickly darted a hand out to grab William's book before he went anywhere near his coffee. He offered up a grin before William could protest, something that Will was finding difficult to deny.

He held his breath as Gabe turned the first three pages, looking at everything for at least a minute each. So it felt like William was holding his breath forever, though it was more like he was completely frozen and unable to function, psychologically. He exhaled quietly after a moment that it seemed that Gabe was enjoying himself, deciding he better busy himself while he waited for his coffee to cool. He didn't feel like eating, probably because of the whole dysfunction thing. Sure, he was breathing now, but his muscles were still tight and it made him nervous every time Gabe turned another page.

He had to look away, starting to study everything that was set out on their little table. It was all the usual stuff; sugars and some plastic teaspoons and a menu, as well as some napkins for any spills. He thought for less than a moment before he'd reached out and grabbed one of the napkins, immediately touching his pencil to the softened paper to try and draw on it. He let out a sigh when he found it hard, because really, he was using a pencil on a napkin.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked quietly, lifting up his coffee and taking a tentative sip. Gabe just nodded and patted at one of his pockets with one hand, then the other until he felt where his pen was and handed it over to William; keeping his eyes on the pages of the art book the entire time. William smiled and murmured another thank you, clicking the little pen so he could draw on the napkin with it.

He doodled at first, spending what must have been five minutes to draw out a dramatic little scene between two lovers. He bit his lip as he drew, just like always, not noticing that after a while Gabe had put the book down to watch him. Smiling. William flicked the pen just a tiny bit to try and create a cross-hatch of shading over the woman's face that he was drawing, trying to show that the two little people were standing in the rain.

“You did that just then?”

William jumped just a little and looked up, releasing his lip. “I- -Uhhh.. Yeah? It's... not very good,” he quickly muttered, clicking the pen again and scrunching the napkin into a loose ball.

“Hey hey! Wait a second, there,” Gabe quickly intervened, reaching out to take the napkin off him and carefully try to unfold it. Completely ignoring the slight red on William's cheeks, of course. “That's so cool,” he finally murmured, William barely hearing him. “No way you did that just then. It looks real,” Gabe grinned, looking up again and sliding the napkin across the table back over to William's unwilling hands.

“Thank you.” William lifted his coffee cup, trying to use it to hide his smile, but it mustn't have worked for Gabe was grinning just as widely back at him. After they had silently decided that their coffees were cool enough to drink though, the two began to eat their small lunches, only waiting for one another to speak.

At least three minutes of agonising silence passed by the time William had started breaking off pieces of his muffin, and when Gabe decided to start another conversation. “You know, I've only seen a few things by you,” he said, leaning forward on the table as he felt content with watching William eat, rather than doing so himself.

William thought about what he meant exactly, figuring it had something or other to do with his art. “Yeah?” He murmured, giving up on trying to think about what Gabe was implying. It was only so obvious, but he hated to sound vain.

“Do you think, you know, I could see more?”

And William's smile just kind of grew even wider right there. He shrugged a shoulder as he popped a piece of the muffin into his mouth, giving Gabe a smile. No need for flirting or thanking, just a regular, happy smile. He remembered the bounce to his step that morning, the song that played repeatedly over in his head thanks to Gabe's musical gadgets. He remembered smiling and even making a little bit of money, but it rounded back to the fact that he was feeling happier. He really, really couldn't remember the last time he had smiled that much in one day.

“Of course.”

So naturally, Gabe got giddy. He grinned and bounced in his seat a little which only made William giggle, once again, something he really shouldn't have done. He didn't know why, it was just because. Because he said so. Or, thought so. If he giggled then Gabe would think he was being easy. That he wanted to be with him. William wasn't going to be easy. Not now, not with Gabe; the one person who he got along with who wasn't Cassadee.

“It's all at home though. It'll take a while to bring it in,” William shrugged, deciding that perhaps it'd be easier to get those thoughts out of his head by talking. Even if talking meant inviting Gabe over to his house. Wait. Did he?

“Are you inviting me over?” Gabe asked.

No.

“Yeah.”

Gabe looked smug and William told himself he hated it. But he loved it. Secretly.

It was right then that William felt Gabe's foot nudge his and he heard the alarm bells ringing in his head. No. No footsies. Only couples played footsies under the table. William tried hard not to nudge him back, really. He tried not to let that giggle escape again, really. He tried not to bite his lip in a way that might make a smile look anything more than a smile, really, but William was really bad at resisting that kind of thing. He told himself to calm down, because really, he wasn't being easy, was he?

“Tomorrow?” Gabe asked, still nudging William's foot lightly with his own. He saw how it took William a few moments to reply and he figured it was distracting with their feet doing what they were doing, so he temporarily stopped.

“Huh?”

“Will I come over tomorrow?”

William opened his mouth and was about to immediately agree, but remembered that 'tomorrow' was 'Saturday' and he had promised to hang out with Cassadee. “I.. Can't, not tomorrow,” he said, slightly apologetically. “I mean, only because I have to be here. With Cass, you know? I'm helping her with the stall.” William shrugged, giving in and nudging Gabe's foot again.

Gabe just nodded in understanding, still playing footsies with William as they both returned silence to finish their lunch.

-

It was only when they were outside the cafe when either of them spoke again. It was Gabe, and quite frankly, it caught William off guard. Again.

“So when will I come check out your stuff?”

William turned to him, glanced at the city clock, then down at the art book in his arms. “I'll call you,” he smiled, really trying not to be happy just from the fact that he had Gabe's phone number.

“Alright, well,” Gabe shrugged, glancing around before back at William. What now?

“I'll see you when I see you?”

Gabe nodded, just as William did. He noticed that Gabe was about to walk away so he quickly reached out and grabbed his upper arm, giving him an odd look that clearly read 'where do you think you're going?' Gabe tilted his head in confusion but William just smiled, pulling him into a hug.

“You're not a stranger any more, you know,” he said quietly, refusing to let go without Gabe hugging back. He heard Gabe chuckle then smiled to himself when he felt his arms wrap back around him, the two holding the hug for a few moments longer before they pulled away.

“I'll see you when I see you,” Gabe repeated, giving a small wave before burying his hands in his pockets and heading off in the direction of where his home was, only glancing back at William once to see him walk in the opposite direction.

-

Despite that William wanted Gabe to like his paintings, he didn't do anything to change them around or make them look nicer than they were. He just kept them leaning against the wall like they always had been, over in the corner of his studio apartment. He spent the rest of the day walking around his apartment, constantly smacking himself mentally whenever he got within three feet of the telephone. There was no way he could sleep and he wasn't in the mood to draw, so he just kept pacing and muttering to himself without having really anything to say.

But after what must have been two hours of sleep, William got out of bed eagerly the next morning to get ready. He left his paintings at home and gave the apartment a quick tidy up; though the place was bare enough that he didn't have too much to clean up. It had only taken a matter of minutes, but not wanting to end up being late if he got carried away, William finally left. This time, he ignored the bounce to his step and tried to will away the song stuck in his head. He didn't mind smiling, but not many people did. Smiling was enough, he didn't need the rhythm with him. Not yet. He had work to do with Cassadee.

“You're here early,” Cassadee smiled nonetheless as she spoke when William was close enough to hear. She was still setting up the paints and brushes and books when William approached, eyeing that smile that he wore so gracefully. “What is it?”

William shrugged and shook his head, kicking the expression away so he looked as blank as most mornings. “Nothing. Canvas?” He asked, stopping and leaning against her table.

Cassadee wagged a finger at him. “Not until you tell me why you're smiling,” she smirked, poking his upper arm.

“I'm not allowed to smile?”

“You often look depressed.”

William scoffed at that and tried not to roll his eyes. Really. Either way, he walked past her to kneel down and get his unfinished painting from under the table where he kept the paintings that he couldn't finish, protected with plastic covers.

“You do! Come on, what's got you so happy?” Cassadee whined, clinging to William's arm once he was on two feet. “Tell me?”

William let out an over dramatic sigh. “I'm just smiling, that's all.” But he knew that she wouldn't give up until he gave her a reason. “Gabe's just coming over sometime in the week to have a look at my art.” Why hadn't he made something up? Because Cassadee could read him. She knew how long he had to pause to think of a lie and William really wasn't bothering to cover himself up. Unfortunately, though, Cassadee seemed... happier than he thought.

“Oh my god! Really? Awh, Bill- -He totally likes you!” She squealed, still clinging to his arm.

William grunted. “We're friends. So yes, he likes me, otherwise he'd ignore me. He likes me, Cassadee. It's not like he wants me or anything,” he rolled his eyes despite willing himself to avoid doing so. He managed to finally shake her off so he could set the canvas up on the easel, but she stayed on his heels like a playful little puppy.

“Ooh, but you definitely like him,” she grinned and even though William couldn't see her, he could hear the complete deviousness in her voice. He paused when he actually realised what she said, though, and looked at her oddly.

“What do you mean? I only like him as a friend,” he murmured, hopefully not too quickly or protective.

Cassadee just smirked at him and grabbed his face gently with her forefinger and thumb to turn his head to look at the painting. William nudged her hand away and shrugged, giving her another odd look. “What?”

“You totally painted him.”

William frowned. “I didn't. Go sell your shit,” he murmured, really wishing that she would stop looking at the painting, now.

“You so did. Look! It's him, skin colour, outfit and everything. Looks like something he'd wear,” Cassadee grinned as she pointed at different parts on the canvas but William proceeded to just roll his eyes again.

“I didn't paint him. Really, people are going to be arriving soon, go finish setting up.” William grunted quietly to himself and took another take at his painting. He didn't paint Gabe, did he? It wasn't, not really. Gabe had only inspired it... But he couldn't have painted him. It was a landscape, the markets in the background and shadows of people walking around in the background. There was a certain stall in focus which was where Cassadee had kept pointing. A man in a flannel shirt and dark, tight jeans was the supplier, leaning over the counter with a grin on his face as he handed a vinyl to someone with a few dollar bills in their hands. It wasn't Gabe. It couldn't be.

Except, it totally was.

It took William at least an hour before he had the heart to paint any more, and when he did, he just worked on the simplicity of the background. He'd have to finish the Gabe-like character the next day, because he really just wanted to go home and make sure his apartment was still clean.

A/N Not done! PART TWO here!