Londy One Shots

Ange Noir🥺

Lonny sat in his studio, his hands and face covered in paint smudges. A paint brush in hand as he traced the bristles over the canvas in front of him. Not really adding anything to the painting, more so just strengthening details. His brain was tired and he couldn't think of anything to add to this painting.

The sun rose outside of the window and Lonny yawned, checking the time. "Oh." He said, realizing that it was close to seven in the morning. He had started on the painting in front of him at five the evening before. Lonny was bad to forget time when he was painting, he had tunnel vision when it came to his art.

Lonny was an artist by trade and he loved it. He loved spending his days painting, drawing, sculpting. It was truly a dream come true that he got to do it full time and make a really good living from it.

He stretched his arms, groaning as his back cracked. He was exhausted, but content with his work. He stood up, sitting his paint brush in the cup of lacquer thinner next to his easel. He made his way downstairs from his loft to his kitchen, getting himself a glass of water and searching the cabinets for something to eat. He had a meeting in a couple of hours so there was no point in going to sleep yet.

Lonny had a massive exhibit planned a week from now. It was the biggest art exhibit of his life and he was thrilled. The meeting he had was with the gallery director, Richard Villa iii. He was an incredible artist himself and Lonny loved his work. He was a huge supporter of Lonny and his art and they had become good friends recently.

They needed to finish the final touches and most importantly; pick whatever was going to be displayed. Lonny had been procrastinating greatly and hadn't actually picked anything out yet other than a few staple pieces. He had no idea what I wanted to display if he was being completely honest. He was very self critical about his art and had trouble looking at it objectively. Most of the time, he just asked his artist friends to choose paintings and he trusted their opinions.

There were many paintings that his friends were not allowed to see though. Art that was too personal to ever share with the world.

Lonny went back upstairs to his loft. His brain hurt staring at the painting he had been working on for hours. He was exhausted and he couldn't look at it anymore. He took the painting off of the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas.

He sat down at his stool, sipping on his water as he tried to come up with an idea, but of course, nothing came to him. He had been struggling with artist's block for weeks now and he was about to lose his mind. Lonny stared at the blank canvas, willing himself to paint, but nothing came to him. He needed to paint something.

Lonny finished off his water with a sigh and stood, grabbing his pallet. He squeezed different shades of oil paints onto his pallet at random, uncaring of the colors he chose before he started painting what he always painted when he couldn't think of anything. It was something that he could recreate simply from memory, it allowed him to be as creative and outlandish as he wanted to because no one ever saw these paintings. No one ever saw who his muse was because he would be mortified if it ever got back to him.

Andy.

Saying that he loved Andy more than any person he had ever met was sadly not an exaggeration. His heart beated for that man, he was constantly on his mind, and every time he painted him, Lonny fell deeper in love. Andy would never know this though. Lonny was too shy too tell him and frankly, Andy was lightyears out of his league. There was no sense embarrassing himself like that and loosing a close friend in the process.

Lonny was perfectly content with being his friend and keeping his feelings to himself. He would rather have Andy as just a friend than not at all. His art helped him express the love he felt though, so it was fine.