Graffiti Art --Delinquent Eve x Reader--

Graffiti Art --Part 1--

Ugh, again!?

I pace up to the front gate and see that the walls enforcing the gate were tagged. An ugly blue, a disgusting green, a violent red, and a large portrait of literary nonsense. This is the second time! It's a bitch to clean I swear.

"Dad!" I yell, "the gates are tagged again!"

He scurries out the door and sprints up to me. "Goddammit! Those rats are such a hassle! I will write to the mayor and get him to remove those ghetto kids from this city."

"Go get 'em, dad." I say while walking away.

"Be safe going to school okay? And if you see those kids, avoid them."

I nodded and hugged him goodbye. I walked down the clean, sparkling sidewalk of the Tokyo Suburbs to school. As I strolled down, I waved and greeted my lovely neighbors. The roads were clear, the city was safe, and life felt good.

Well, it felt good.

My steps inched closer to the run-down sector of the city. We called it the 'Tokyo Ghetto.' On the news, it almost seemed like every night there was a gang related incident in that area. My father tells me to avoid it when I can. Unfortunately, I can't do so this morning. If I go around, I'd be late to school. It was a long way around.

I crossed the street, pulled down my floral sweater, and hugged my backpack closely to my chest. They might pickpocket me, so I never put things in my pant pockets. I don't ever listen to music whenever I cross through the wretched place. Things might go down.

The stench of dried urine mixed with someone grilling meat skewers made my head hurt. How can these rats not see how terrible they're living? I didn't feel bad for them, anyway. They're full of unemployed people, prostitutes, criminals, and the homeless. They bestowed that burden amongst themselves, even though this city provides countless opportunities.

Maybe the residents here are just lazy. Full of delinquents. My neighbors and I are the opposite of lazy. We are active. My father is the CEO of DP (Drama Prince) Entertainment. He puts me in charge of commercials and designs. He knows that I have a creative hand. Plus, he works with so many celebrities. Once, I was close to dating one of the actors who starred in a teenage drama film, but he moved to America.

I took a sharp turn to the left and crossed another street. The pavement was full of cracks and splits. Their roads are eroded and ugly. Everything there was ugly. Walking at a fast pace, I finally neared a huge brick wall with splashes of color. It wasn't a mural, though. It was graffiti. Boxy provocative words were spread out on that poor wall. Almost identical to the graffiti I saw this morning at my house.

The abridged mural meant that the end of my trek through 'Tokyo Ghetto' was close. I was about to cross the street until I heard someone whistle.

A catcall.

"Ohooo, girl! Where'd you get an ass like dat? Yo' ass be lookin' phaaaat!"

I shot him a glare. He had missing teeth, a raggedy sweatshirt, and sweat-stained joggers. Or was it pee? I pulled my hoodie on and looked to the crosswalk.

"Aw, come on girl! Some coochie?" He yelled while I started crossing.

I got to the other side before the stop sign changed. He kept cooing. "Shut the fuck up," I shouted as I looked back at him. "Go get some dumb hoes!"

I turned around and started to pace faster, just in case he decided to cross the street and follow me. Out of my peripherals, I see a figure on the opposite side of the pavement. I throw my backpack on my back and ran towards a crowd. I was finally out of that place.

Another morning battle won.

Eve's P.O.V.

School started two weeks ago and honestly, I want to go home. People call this school the 'rich kid' school for obvious reasons. The people that go here are insanely wealthy. That's more like 99% of the population. The remaining 1% are people like me. Poor and only enrolled in this school because we're intelligent.

I'd hate to downgrade rich people, but these kids don't act like they're higher ranked than the poor. I've been to many schools, and a public one with less funding than this private school had slightly better acting students. Foreign exchange students come here, too. Everyone goes and gawks at them. It gets annoying pretty fast.

I leaned forward on my desk while my professor lectured about the Second World War. I sighed because I've already learned about this in my public school. I stopped listening. Private schools are something else, like they're on their own planet. I take off my glasses and started to fog them up with my breath. Yes, I was that bored. My professor caught me.

"Oh, Eve! Since you've been paying attention these past ten minutes, tell me who commanded the invasion of the Normandy Peninsula?"

I stopped fogging them up and closed my mouth. My classmates turned around and looked at me. I looked at the teacher who seemed like he stumped me for sure. I rolled my eyes. "Ah, D-Day? General Eisenhower."

Someone's clueless voice peeped up from behind me. "General who?"

Everybody started laughing. Maybe they should be the ones getting called out for not paying attention.

"That's correct," my professor said. "When was D-Day?"

I scoffed with a smirk on my face. "June 6, 1944."

He nodded in approval. "Last question. What battle was considered as Hitler's last stand?"

"Easy. Battle of the Bulge. Now, can you stop bothering me?"

Everyone in the room stared at me with wide eyes like I was a magician who just played a trick. As if I weren't the kid who came from poverty anymore. Someone in the distant front started to clap their hands and soon all of them joined into a sarcastic applause. "Dirty ghetto kid..." I heard someone say through the clapping.

The bell rang; ending second period. Students scurried for their stuff and zoomed out the door to break period. I was the first one out, though. I recklessly shoved people to the side as I moved forward. I heard a few shouts of dissatisfaction from a few people. I didn't care. They treat me like dirt, I will do the same. This school's campus was definitely cleaner than the public schools.' When I reached outside, I eyed the cleanest wall on the side of the hall I exited.

Tonight, me and the boys will have a bit of fun.

I bumped into someone while I was distracted with the wall.

"Hey, what the fuck?" She said.

"Oh, I'm sorry your highness," I sneered sarcastically at her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare address me like that again, you dirty rat."

"No, I don't think I will."

I got close to her face and stuck my tongue out. Then I confidently walked away, looking back at her.

She looked back at me, too, with that pouting face that made me know that I got the upper hand.

Though, she was really pretty. Her floral sweater made me recognize her as the girl who walks by every morning. Especially this morning when we walked exactly parallel from each other; but I never saw her face. She probably thought I was a creep, but she didn't recognize that it was me. All she knew me for was being a rat from a ghetto who sat in the same room with other bourgeois like her.

But.

She was really pretty.