Optimism (A BATIM X OC Fanfic)

CHAPTER 13: The Young Painter and The Woman.

The light blue sky still remained with its damp, airy stickiness as citizens walked below the sun's damning rays of light that sprung onto the city itself—vehicles moved slowly along the street, and chattering was still uttered from the mouths of the people who walked past. A faint scent of food from nearby booths hung in the air, though it was barely there under the scent of the smog that hung over the city.

In the center of the small sidewalk that was plastered with small businesses and diners that barely anyone could afford to eat at anymore, there were three sets of canvases—and out of all the chattering within the city, the most chattering came from within that area. A young male painter stood there with a small painting in his hand as a smile curled upwards on his lips, young enough to have just gotten out of college most likely. His face shone in the sun, and it was only slightly splotched with a hint of acne.

The young painter than extended his arms, holding out the painting to a person who seemed to be mingled among a crowd of people who had gathered around the canvases where he worked. The person who stood in front of him then extended their arms, and slowly slipped the painting into their hands. "Thanks so much, kid!" The person cheerfully said with a smile, slowly digging into their pockets for change they could give him in return for the small trade. "You got skills. Maybe one of these days, you'll go on to be an animator or somethin'!"

The young painter sheepishly giggled, his yellow-tinted teeth visible as his lips formed into a wide yet awkward grin. Another person budged into the conversation, saying in a more excited tone, "Yeah, kid. Why haven't you tried selling these before?"

The young painter blinked for a moment, and then, his eyes darted downward to the painting that was in his hand. The small painting was a mild sketch of a meadow with a single tree in the middle of it, sunset glowing upon the tree and the blades of grass from within the background. The young painter had always looked upon it as if anyone could easily paint something like he did—after all, he saw his work as such simplicity. And it wasn't as if it were anything great.

So why now, when he decided to sell it, did other people seem to think that it was on a greater level than an artist like Vincent Van Gogh's work?

The young painter then sighed. "I dunno.. I just.."

The flash of the man with the wood-brown hair who eagerly smiled at him so as he complimented his work in a way no one had ever done before flickered in his mind. He shook his head, saying softly, "..I just.. didn't really think it was all that great before."

The person who spoke from the crowd then quickly responded in a friendly manner, smiling, "Well, kid, I'm tellin' ya now—it really is all that great! You could pick up a career snd become filthy rich with this."

The young painter's eyes widened slightly, startled at the thought of wealth. He then shook his head from side to side, a sheepish smile curling upon his face. "Oh, no, no—I don't think now's the time for all.. that."

From within the crowd, there appeared to be a face. A familiar face, in fact. It was a woman in all black, who stood gazing upon him with startled blue eyes as she held something in her gloved hand. A green piece of paper twiddled between her fingers. A dollar, it was. Slowly, the woman stared for a moment, before walking foward at a closer pace to the young painter.

The young painter then couldn't help but utter as he turned, "..Aunt Jess?"

The woman, 'Aunt Jess', only smiled softly as she approached, though there was still a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. "Caleb." She uttered fondly. She then glanced to the side—the front row of the crowd of people had now been staring at her, some with an arched brow in temporary confusion.