Chapter Text
All Lance ever wanted to be was an artist, he learned from his older siblings when he was younger and started to branch off into his own artstyle. Drawing got his mind off of the unplesant things in life, but it also came with it's own unplesantries. One such being that he questioned if he was good enough, always erasing anything that seemed to dissatisfy. His own perfectionism holding him back from going forward, but he knew other artist had the same problem. Though there he was staring at the porfolio he created for college applications and any little thing to get his art out there in the world. Lance made sure to write all the criticisim he got on his art from colleges when the rejected him, not one seeming to have room for his style.
"Too Cartoonish"
"Not enough realism"
"To much Realism"
Those were just a handful of the criticisms that he recieved, he even tried to apply to fan magazines, though also only to be dejected once more. What was so wrong with his art he thought; was he not improving enough or was it that his style just looked unappealing to the eye. Many nights he had almost broken down crying, but told himself to keep strong and re-apply to new places and new opportunities. Except no matter how hard he worked it didn't seem to matter no one looked at his art like they did at others, His Mama kept telling him that he was the best artist she'd seen, but she's his family wasn't she supposed to say stuff like that. One day the pressure just got to much to Lance he wanted to quit all it was doing was causing him anxiety, but the sweet muse of art kept calling him in till he gave in. Only further frustrating him; An artist's life was torture and boy did he have enough torture.
He watched as rejection letter after rejection letter came, feeling like he'd never further his interest in learning to better himself into a pristine artist. In till his Father came home one night waving a flyer in his direction, printed on a pearl like color paper about young minds seeking to further their talents. Lance read the sheet; a grin on his face, this was his chance or his last. If he didn't get in to this program he swore he'd swear off of art forever and work for his uncle at his food shack on the beach in California for the rest of his life. He started to fill out the small application he found online with the help of the flyer; they didn't even ask for samples of art which had him estatic meaning he had a chance to get in. Reading more he found only one of each form of talent would be allowed into the program, which made him pause in his typing.
"What if other artist try to get in"
"What if i'm not good enough"
"What if I'm not what their looking for"
"What if i get on their nerves"
The thoughts swam inside his head making him speak them softly to his self, just so he wouldn't drown in them. He shook his head trying to rid the wave of emotions and doubt to drain from his noggin. Hand hovering now over the submit button, as he took in a deep gulp as if swallowing a big glass of ridicule away. Quickly Lance tapped the right of the mouse submitting his application in, the due date was the next day for the applications he had just made it. "Maybe my stylish almost late application will get they're attention" he laughed sadly to himself, feeling the weight suddenly rain on him.
The following week Lance had checked his email religously waiting for a reply, his sceptical brain telling him he'll be rejected once again so just give up. He really wanted to give in, but refused spinning in his chair once more at his computer desk before opening his online mail account. It was there the only parts seen,
'Dear Lance McClain,Thank you for your app'
That was all he could see before he clicked it, but his hand wouldn't allow him. His hands were shaking, sweat dripped down his forhead, and he felt his full body felt empty excep a bundle of nerve in the pit of his stomach. Licking his lips as suddenly his mouth felt like a dry land, he starred down at the email debating weither or not to open it; Finally he clicked.
'Dear Lance McClain,
Thank you for your application; we see you have an interest in art. We would gladly like to welcome you into our program as an artist, but we regret to inform you another person has interested us as well. We would like you both to come down to the programs meeting place with samples of your art so we may decide from there. The meeting place is at the old rec center on Altea street, please come around 3-6 pm on this upcoming Friday.Thank you we look forward to seeing you.
Sincerly,
Ms. Allura Altea'
That was it Lance was about to give up his meal, they wanted to see samples of his art and not only that they wanted to compare his art to another! ANOTHER ARTIST! His hands shook panic settling in, breath coming short and vision blurry. He tried to calm himself and explain to himself that it wasn't the end, there was still a chance he could pull through this. "Yeah, a Small chance" his head butted in with all his doubt.
Lance swallowed harshly, staring at the email when he finally took a shakey breath, "I'll make three new pieces to add to my portfolio so they can see I've been drawing recently; I should do two digital and one traditional" he mumbled to himself. Sketching out what to draw in his mind as he spun towards his closet where all his art items were held neatly, he even begged his parents for a small drawer to be put in his closet for his markers and pencils. His grin widened when his ideas came sputtering to him in a quiet fashion, first was the traditional.
Friday [3:30pm]
Lance's knee bounced with energy as he sat on the bus with his portfolio as his side, glacing at it every few blocks the bus passed to make sure it somehow didn't disappear; It Hadn't and his stop was next. His eyes at that moment decided to judge the fellow passengers on the bus; there was an older man who was balding humming what seemed to be old blues music, a women with her two daughters one looked to be in her rebellious teen years whith the other seemed to be enjoying the bus ride bouncing in her seat, and then a blind woman with her service dog near the front. That's when his eyes had seen it! The most hideous hairstyle on the bus, A mullet. Lance wanted to shout something like, 'Hey the 80's called they want their hairstyle back' or 'is riding the bus the business part or the party part' he laughed to himself maybe a bit to loudly, because the boy not much older then himself sporting the aweful cut turned to him.
The haircut was the only hideous part of the boy though, his eye were like glassy embers a dark purple almost black, pale skin, and his dark raven thick hair seemed to just bring out his looks more. Though Lance was not a fan of the scowl the boy was giving him, so like the mature 17 year old Lance was he stuck his tongue out at the boy. Which didn't seem to take it well as he huffed and turned back to the window, just in time though because the bus skidded to a stop in front of the old rec center 3:47 pm perfect timing, but wait why was the grumpy guy from the bus here as well?