Daniel Brühl One-Shots [Discontinued]

The Park | Laszlo Kreizler

After finishing my errands for the day, I went to the park like usual. I sat down on my favorite park bench and opened my sketchbook. Ever since I was a kid I was interested in art. Unfortunately my parents never could afford for me to take any art classes. But I did my best with what I've seen in various books. Most of which came from the library. I flipped through the pages and pages of flowers, trees, animals, etc. Nature has always fascinated me.

But I've recently been interested in trying to draw people. I had been struggling for a while, but now I sort of felt like I was getting the hand of it. Especially since I decided on just drawing a handful of people. Those people were those I've seen in the park, or nearby. But my favorite was of a man who mostly wears black suits. I've seen him in the park a lot. As I sat there drawing a nearby flower, I spotted him. I quietly watched as he sat down on his usual park bench. As I watched him my mom's words came to mind.

"You need to make some friends, y/n. You don't want to be alone forever." There was a pang in my heart and my stomach twisted in knots. I knew she was right, but making friends hasn't been easy for me. Especially when my school friends abandoned me. There wasn't any warning at all, they all just disappeared from my life. It made me feel like I did something wrong or I wasn't good enough. I let out a deep sigh as I slowly closed my sketchbook. 'Maybe I should talk to him?' The thought gave me anxiety. I took a few deep breaths before standing up.

I slowly walked over to where he was sitting, making sure to take the long way. I didn't wanna seem like a threat or anything. Plus I was delaying the inevitable. "Hello, um... I'm not very good at this but... my mom said I should try and make some friends." I said very awkwardly. I felt so awkward and embarrassed that it physically hurt. He looked at me with big brown eyes, and seemed to examine me. It made me feel more anxious. But I relaxed a bit when a faint smile played at his lips.

"Well, if you want to make friends... why don't you start with telling me your name?" He said with what sounded like a light German accent. "I'm y/n." I replied shyly. "It's nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Dr. Laszlo Kreizler." He replied with a small smile, holding out his hand to me. I shyly shook his hand and smiled softly. His name sounded familiar to me, but I wasn't sure where I had heard it before. He asked me to join him, and so I did. "So... you like to draw?" He asked curiosity, pointing at my sketchbook.

"Yeah, I always come to the park to draw." I replied. "May I see your drawings?" He asked curiosity. "Sure." I said as I handed him the sketchbook. He started to gently page through the book, studying each page carefully. We sat in comfortable silence. The only sound were other park goers. "I see you've started drawing people. I also see that my friends and I have become your subjects of study." He said with a small smile. "Oh, those are your friends? I didn't know." I said, feeling awkward.

"You're quite a gifted artist. Where are you studying?" He asked as he handed the sketchbook back. "Oh, I... I'm not studying art at a university. Everything I learned I kind of... self taught myself." I said awkwardly. "Well, you're very talented for teaching yourself. I wonder..." He said, trailing off. Gently tugging at the small patch of hair underneath his bottom lip. His beard seemed to compliment his handsome features. "Do you paint?" He asked after a few moment of silence.

"Yeah, I paint a little. It's just that painting supplies are kind of expensive." I said, wondering what he was thinking about.  "Would you mind accompanying me to the Kreizler Institute? I think I might have a job for you. That is if you're willing to accept the offer of course." He replied. 'The Kreizler Institute? He must me that Alienist I've read about in the newspapers.' I said inside of my head. I told him yes, and we left the park together. I knew he was still a stranger, but something told me I could trust him.

As we approached a calash, I recognized the driver. It was a boy that I had drawn in my sketchbook. "This is my ward and driver, Steve Taggert." Dr. Kreizler introduced us to each other. We got inside if the calash and Steve took us to the Institute. During the drive the doctor asked questions about my family. I told him that my father had passed away in October of last year. And that my mom was the only one bringing home any money. I had tried countless times to get a job, but no one would hire me due to lack of experience.

Plus, I wasn't interested in joining the skin trade. That's something I don't think I could ever do. Even if I was desperate for money. But I don't shame those who do work the skin trade, because it's harsh world. And it's even harsher when you're poor. Once we arrived at the Kreizler Institute, we got out of the clash. A big brick building with several floors. I figured that most of the floors consisted of classrooms and bedrooms. He lead me inside the surprisingly cool building. There were nurses and teachers walking around.

"Follow me." He said as he motioned for me to follow. He opened a door and I figured it must have been his office. There was dark green furniture that matched the wallpaper. Dark wooden coffee tables and a matching desk as well. Some of the walls were lined with bookshelves. Each one laden  down with lather bound books. As I looked around, I noticed that most of the books were medical and phycology related. A small table had a elegant chess board sitting on top.

"Please, have a seat." He said, gesturing to a chair positioned in front of his desk. I sat down as he organized some papers and files. "Now, let's talk about the project I would like to ask you to do." He said as he retrieved a notebook from a desk drawer. He wanted my to paint a mural on one of the walls in the gymnasium. Apparently he and his staff agreed that the Institute needed brightening up a bit. The two of us discussed exactly what he wanted painted in the wall. I agreed to doing the project. He gave me his home phone number as well as his phone number at the Institute.

By the time I left the institute I was happy and excited. I had been commissioned to do an art piece for someone. And I deep down I felt as if I had finally made a friend. I was looking forward to telling my mom about all of what had happened.

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