ourheartsarecompatible | Excuse me while I dodge your captcha...

I could have. Pretending it had nothing specific to do with you would've been a lie, though, and that's no way to start anything.

You have the sort of facial structure that would make any self-respecting artist's fingers itch to pick up their charcoal.
And if you think that's empty flattery, you're free to visit the art school and ask literally anyone there.
I guarantee they'll say the same.

While I don't think you would lie to me, I do think that you may be biased
I would like to think that we're friends, after all.
Even if you haven't been here for very long.

Oh, well, if admitting that won't hurt my case at all...
I'm extremely biased, but it has more to do with attraction than friendship.

Good, so we're clear on that.
As if I don't already feel like I may be melting.

If that's an argument for changing the subject away from your attractiveness... it isn't working on me, just so you know.

You're rude, you know.
Overtures during business hours are very distracting and my brother is getting annoyed.

I'd hate to make a bad impression on the family...
I guess I can leave any further compliments until after work.

[He won't get a text back. Instead, when he locks up for the evening, there will be a small bouquet waiting for him. Blue, purple, and yellow pansies feature heavily in it. There is also a card, secured to the stems. It looks like a fountain pen was used to write on it.]

Daniel has decided that he does not like you,
but what he doesn't know can't hurt him
~Simon

[Oh what's this?

Once he's got the shop locked up, Markus sits on the little wrought iron and wood bench just outside the front door and turns his gift around in his hands. Beautiful flowers - he can't think of their name, but he's seen many of them in the planters and gardens of suburban houses. They bring to mind a sort of gentility that suits Simon, or at least Simon's surface.

Then Markus carefully sets the flowers aside to read Simon's message. It looks just as beautiful as the bouquet, and Markus can't help but trace Simon's graceful signature with one fingertip, but the words... oh, the words bring a delighted smirk to Markus's lips. Is that how he's to start, as a dirty little secret?

Suddenly Markus wants to do everything in his power to throw Simon for a loop. Maybe he'll do literally nothing but sketch Simon's face the first couple of sessions, play the perfect gentleman until Simon's confusion and curiosity get the best of him and he makes the first move. Just the thought makes Markus's toes curl with anticipation. (Too bad he's far too earnest and sincere to pull off a long con like that just to tease somebody. But it's sure a pleasant thought.)]

Should I take the flowers to mean that you're still coming to the studio tonight? I'll send over the address.

[No, he's not just gonna invite Simon right to his apartment. He'll opt for the neutral ground of a shared artist space in an older, less gentrified part of town.]

[Simon is settled in at home in his little studio flat, drinking a mug of tea and settled in with a book on his tablet and a cat in his lap when the text comes. He smiles faintly at it and debates on how to answer. Markus seems to enjoy the banter, even when Simon is leveling (joking) accusations at him.]

I felt it appropriate, since you went out of your way to actively flatter me.
You can send me a location pin and I will be there.

[Location sent, along with a preview:]

I had a cancellation in the afternoon, as it happens, so I have a gift for you too. See you soon.

[The artist space is a reclaimed warehouse that has only escaped rezoning or demolition thanks to incredibly generous donations from one Carl Manfred. Its exterior walls are covered in murals, whereas the interior has barely been touched aside from practical renovations: an entire webwork of low-slung metal beams crisscrosses the high ceilings to support the necessary lighting fixtures, and about a third of the massive floor space has been closed off for glass, metal, and clay artisans to maintain the necessary safety precautions while they work. Other divisions within the space are much more slapdash, with people obviously having claimed this or that corner and filled it with supplies, everything operating on an honour system that has yet to fail the co-op's members.

Markus's corner is easily visible from the enormous barn door-style entrance since he's taken the liberty of adding a hand-painted nameplate. Classic soul music (Otis Redding for the moment) echoes through the expansive building from a bluetooth speaker at Markus's side as he sets up his supplies beside a large sketching easel.

The environment really is more of an experience than just a place.]

[Simon just stares at the photo that was sent to him, sketches that Markus had apparently done without him knowing, either when he wasn't looking, or simply from memory.

He needs a moment to recover from the way that hits him. Along with the brief thought of do I really look so morose?]

You don't need to do that

[He really hopes that whatever Markus might have to offer him, that it isn't something big or expensive. He wants for very little and grand gestures overwhelm him quite a bit.

He's preoccupied as he takes the bus to get to the pin he'd been sent, and he looks up at the large warehouse space with a touch of trepidation. He'd looked the place up and looked at some photos of the co-op posted online, but none of it really did justice to how large and wide open the space is. He feels very small stepping into it and glancing around. The music echoing around the space draws a soft, tentative smile from him and he follows it with his hands around the strap of his messenger bag, dressed simply in a long-sleeved athletic shirt and comfortable pants, the sleeves of the former pulled all the way down to his knuckles.

He doesn't announce his entrance, just standing and watching Markus moving around his space with his mouth slightly open. A live rendition of Stand By Me echoes in a charming way around them.]

[Simon looks like a young boy on his first day of school, Markus thinks when he finally looks up and notices him there. It brings a little grin to his lips as he sets down the last of his sketching pencils and walks over to welcome Simon into their space. It can be, he knows, somewhat overwhelming.]

Welcome to the co-op. It's something else, isn't it? [Markus can't help but glance around proudly, imagining the familiar space through Simon's eyes, before focussing his attention back on Simon.] I'm glad you could make it.

[Maybe it's just the change of venue, but Markus could swear Simon looks even cuter than usual. For his own part, he's in a snug tank top that shows off his sleeve tattoos to their best effect and an old pair of track pants that have obviously seen many painting sessions in the past.]

Can I grab you a drink? I picked up a four-pack from the craft brewery just down the block from us on my way here. ["Us" meaning the section of strip mall that contains both their shops.]

[Simon blinks when he's greeted, and briefly he glances around as he collects himself and lets out a soft, somewhat awkward laugh. He's grateful for the offer of a drink, not quite knowing what to say in return.]

Please. [He nods and finds somewhere to hang his bag, a set of hooks that looks like it normally holds aprons and jackets, then simply stands with his hands at his sides, though his fingers fidget and pull at his sleeves. He takes the bottle when it's offered, and snags a bottle opener from the keychain connected to his bag to lever the cap off. He's not a drinker by any means, but one or two couldn't hurt. Right? It might even loosen him up, make him a little less liable to just spend all of his time looking at Markus' arms...]

[Oh wow... Simon's extremely shy when he's not at work (or texting playfully during his shift). Markus has already set up a stool in the best spot for Simon to pose for him; he adds a small table as well so Simon can set down his drink as necessary, then waves him over.]

Here - just sit however's comfortable, don't worry about posing any specific way. And let me know if you feel cold, I'll plug in the space heater. [It's a big, draughty space, after all, and Simon won't have constant movement to keep him warm the way Markus does.

After turning down the music a few notches to allow them to talk while he works, Markus pulls up his own high stool at a 45-degree angle from the easel and grabs a pencil, just twiddling it between his fingers for the moment. Simon may notice that Markus is right-hand dominant but keeps the table covered in sketching supplies on his left side, despite that necessitating that he swap everything he picks up from his left hand to his right.]

So how long have you had your shop?

[Look, it's easier to be bold and sassy when you're not looking the man you're crushing on bad in the face.]

I think I'll be ok. [His voice is smaller, quieter when he's not in customer service mode. Everything about him seems smaller, really. Like he's deflated.

When he settles himself on the stool, he keeps his hands together atop his knees, around the beer bottle. He'd ask before he took a drink just so that he wouldn't interrupt the sketching process. He wonders if they'll be talking at all, or just sitting quietly. He thinks he might fall asleep if that's the case...

He's grateful for the question. It gives him something to focus on for a moment.]

It's been a little over four years now. They were kind enough to give us the larger space to be able to spread out in. Daniel's only been working next door since last August.

[Simon's stiff, still posture brings another crooked grin to Markus's face.]

You can also move when you need to, by the way. I'll tell you if I need you to hold anything.

[He's just waiting for inspiration to strike at the moment, and hoping to ease Simon into a more relaxed posture/expression with some light conversation. He sets down his pencil and grabs his own drink while he listens, with that same left-to-right-hand pass.]

Four years! That's impressive. And your brother's the pet groomer? [He scratches the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully, smiling to himself.] Too bad I don't have a pet I can bring over for a full-service grooming to improve his opinion of me.

[Simon's eye tracks the movement, though he doesn't comment or even make it obvious that he's noticed anything. Just information filed away, kept in this mental folder that he's compiled where it relates to the artist.

He chuckles quietly, and takes a swallow of his beer.]

I'm sure he'd have a lot to say about an animal you bring in too. He can be...judgmental, sometimes.

[Such an understatement. Daniel is hostile and hair-trigger at times, very much a total inversion of Simon's demeanor.]

So he's a lost cause, huh. [Markus shakes his head regretfully, but can't keep the grin off his face.] Well... as long as your impression of me doesn't drop anywhere below neutral, I think my ego will survive.

[He takes one more pull on his beer, then swaps it for his pencil again and stands up to consider the big, empty sheet of paper before him. Where to start...? Now that he's actually got Simon here, he wants to do something more impressive than the simple sketches from this afternoon.]

Hey, could you turn to one side a bit - either side, doesn't matter, I just want a bit more of a profile. [While Simon moves, Markus keeps up his end of the conversation:] My first shop was in Philly, about two years ago now... well, sort of. I went from an apprentice to managing the shop and the woman who owned it was thinking about transferring it to me, but then I had to move back here.

[A quick pause. Markus's gaze shifts to the floor, then back up to the easel.]

My dad's not doing great right now. His heart. I'm not spending whatever time we have left 600 miles away, you know?

Edited 2022-02-18 00:03 (UTC)

[Simon's posture slouches a little bit from its upright propriety, his eyes down on the floor as he shifts around in his seat to give Markus the angle that he wants.

He does glance back around as Markus explains why he's here, his smile fading.]

I'm sorry to hear. It's good that you came to spend time with him, though. I... can't say I know what that's like. Daniel and I never actually knew our parents.

[Markus looks from his sketch paper to Simon in surprise.]

Did you grow up in the system, or - ? [Wait. That could be traumatic territory, even if Simon did bring it up himself. Backpedaling from the overly direct question a little, Markus explains:] I'm adopted - Carl's my adoptive dad. I lived with my bio aunt for awhile when I was really young, but... mom's dead, dad's a mystery.

[Simon just nods. While it wasn't a great time in the lives of himself and his brother, they've also been outside of it long enough that it's easier to talk about. For him. Daniel, not so much.]

We were in it until we aged out. It's been... [Hm. How to say this without it seeming like he's looking for pity.]

It's been a lot of work to get to where we are. We're doing well these days.

[Markus nods solemnly. While he managed to stay out of the system, he knows how summarily it kicks out kids who are headed into the most stressful, uncertain period of their lives and desperately need more support to survive the transition.]

No wonder entrepreneurship runs in the family. [Because God knows they must have been steeped in the belief that no one will ever take care of them but each other. Markus considers Simon's tired, sad blue eyes for a moment now that he's got so much new perspective on why they look that way, and without warning, inspiration strikes.

He's up and on his feet in a heartbeat to lay down some preliminary lines and work out a pose. His eyebrows pull down sharply in concentration while he draws, the skin between them pinched into deep creases, and he often turns his head from side to side several times while considering Simon's face before going back to his work.]

Look up for me? Chin up, eyes still straight ahead.

[The sudden flurry of motion nearly has him looking around, but then Markus is actually giving him direction that he follows quickly, face and eyes turning up to find a point in a corner. It gives him a dazed, faraway sorry of look.]

Daniel used to be a nanny. I think he misses it... [His tone is thoughtful as he says it, and he pauses briefly to take a sip from his bottle before continuing.] He's good with the animals, though. He cares about them when they come in.

[His brother has a few stock tirades he goes on after rough shifts sometimes, though. He can tell when an animal isn't being cared for properly when he has to work with them and it's made him particularly recalcitrant.]

Do you have others at the shop? It seems like a lot to have to do alone.

[Markus still listens while he works, his deeper inner picture of Simon taking shape even as his sketch does the same, but his attention is split too many ways for him to say very much - until Simon asks about the shop. It serves as a good chance to step back, get a new angle on what he's drawn so far.]

Starting off, it was easier for me to take care of everything myself... but you're not wrong about how much I have to juggle on my own, and it's gotten to the point where I don't have enough time for clients. I already found a new artist to bring in - an old friend, too, so the trust is already there - and I'll probably hire someone to handle the front of the shop soon.

[He switches pencils, then moves in closer to start on fine detail work. The music shifts from Otis Redding to Bill Withers, Ain't No Sunshine adding a touch of melancholy to the energy. Caught up in art and music and the sudden moody feel, Markus forgets for a moment that he's one half of a conversation and quietly begins to sing along.]

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