dangerous illusion.

00:01

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the attic of an house is normally where people store their unneeded items, leaving them till the existence of the object completely wipes from their memory. that, is exactly what happened in rindou's case. 

rindou rummaged through small boxes, big boxes, and even shoe boxes, yet he still couldn't find his thrasher backpack. he used to do graffiti when he was younger, as you know. well, when he was finished with that phase, he crammed all of his supplies into that backpack and tossed it in the attic.

he'd asked his brother about the bag when he got home a few hours ago, but when ran asked why he wanted it, rindou refused to tell him it was to finish an art piece that someone had started but never finished. he didn't want to hear ran's lecture about "mind your own business, people are insane" for the hundredth time.

opening up a few more boxes, rindou's backpack finally came into view. he pulled out the bag, and unzipped it. staring at the materials he took each spray can and gave it a shake before spraying them on a wall in the corner (ignoring that if his brother saw, he'd murder him). 

in total, there were 29 different cans of color. and thankfully, 23 of them still worked. 

it was as if he was going through a time capsule as he returned his attention back to what was inside his backpack. his memory was clouded by recollections of him dragging random people from his gang to random places just so they could paint walls together. mostly to do challenges, and of course rindou won. they weren't "professionals" anyways. he laughed just thinking about it.

he discovered more than paint cans. he found reference photos, two red and black beanies that matched, and even 12 different colored copic ciao markers. "I used to be the shit when I was 14," rin mumbled. though ran would disagree, he was lot cooler than he is now.

speaking of ran, rindou decided he had to keep what he did a secret from his brother. understand, him and ran don't do secrets. that, clearly, says something. but he has a gut feeling his brother shouldn't know, at least for the time being.

he rushed back downstairs with his things in his backpack (it being strapped on his back) and zoomed out the front door, trying to recollect the bridge's directions. once he did recall, he then began to come up with new concepts for the art project. it was hard, I mean, what the fuck can you come up with that is spacey but with a skateboard mix?

after a while he sighed, "why couldn't you just finish the damn piece?" running his hands through his hair. 

he arrived at the scene before he knew it. before pulling out his own items to work with, he took one more glance at what the figure had done. he took a white paint can from his backpack and shook it one more time before pressing his pointer finger on the button that would set everything in motion. to say he was unsure was an understatement.

he hadn't done anything like this in an awfully long time. what if he fucks up? he couldn't do that with this lavishing drawing. however, when he heard the jingle of someone's keys, he flinched and clicked the button, beginning to create a circle.

was he attempting to draw a circle? nope. but, because a great artist must improvise, he used the rest of his day to create an astronaut sketch. meaning that only the outline of his idea was created. much less than he wanted to do, but it was a start.

with a groan, he checked his watch that read 6:32 pm. he muttered, "shit." he had a meeting with ran and his gang that started about 42 minutes ago. it was crucial for the next fight. 

he thought he saw someone watching him as he packed his belongings. in a rush he shook it off and rushed to the meetup. all he could think about was getting into serious trouble with his brother if he didn't make it on time. that, was his downfall.