Spray Paint

Michael stomped out his cigarette and pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth. Shaking the can of spray paint before he began to work on his masterpiece.

He had been waiting for months for the perfect night to do this. Planning and designing his art, and finding the best place to do it. This was going to be his biggest and best. Though it is the middle of the night, and Michael cannot see his arm length in front of his, he knows it will turn out amazing. This part of Sydney is always deserted at night, but extremely active throughout the day. He hopes that a lot of people will see his art.

Many may think what Michael is doing is a crime, 'defacing public property' or some sort, but to him, it's a way of expressing. He does not do it because he wants, or because he is good (he is but that is beside the point,) he does it because it needs to be done. It needs to be seen. His need to be seen, his need to prove - or make - a point almost always led to his getting in trouble. Whether it was at school, by fault of his parents, or the police, he always got in trouble. It was probably the spray paint cans always in his bag, or his paint stained fingers that always drew people to suspect him, but he always believed it was the way he looked. His hair was always a different colour, right now it was different shades of purple and blue with black and white - it looks like a galaxy to him. Multiple piercings adorned his face, one black bar with pyramid barbs on the ends was in his left eyebrow, and a black septum piercing on his nose. His lip was once pierced, but whenever he ate one of the balls would fall off and he would swallow it, so he just let it close up. Plus his friend Luke has his lip pierced, and he does not like to...

... middle of paper ...

..., and he talks it out to check it. "Sorry, but I have to go. My mum just woke up and realise I wasn't there." He laughs sheepishly.

They stand up and walk out of the coffee shop together. "Um, Ashton?" Ashton hums, telling Michael to continue, "can I have your number?"

Ashton turns and quirks an eyebrow at him. "We just met."

"I know, but, I dunno. . . I wanna hang out with you again sometime." Michael shuffels his feet, kicking a stone, and staring at the sidewalk.

"Sure." Michael looks up to see Ashton smiling. He smiles back, not showing his teeth. He hands Ashton his phone and the boy types in his number.

"So I'll see you around?" Michael asks, shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pockets.

"Yeah." Ashton nods. Taking a few steps backwards, before he turns and walks in the opposite direction of Michael.

Michael watches him leave, still clutching his phone.