Work Text:
The pencil zigzagged across the paper furiously, the graphite tip biting deep into the white surface. The jagged lines of grey it left behind melded in with others, gradually forming shapes.
It wasn’t enough. The curvature of each stroke was stiff, unseemly. No matter how the pencil caressed the paper, it created only flawed imperfections.
There was a long, deep sigh before the hands gripping the utensil relaxed and it fell to the floor with a wooden clatter. No effort was made to retrieve it, only the sounds of paper being crushed into a ball followed its fall.
Long fingers tapped against the cover of a sketchbook in frustration. How hard was it to finish just one piece? It hadn’t been so long ago that beautiful designs had practically flown from his hands, and yet somehow his creativity had dried up.
As he contemplated his failures, the distant sound of raised voices caught his attention briefly. Shouting matches were hardly uncommon at Collège Françoise Dupont, not with so many hot-headed teenagers attending.
He just hoped it wouldn't result in another Akuma attack. Even now, shudders went down his spine when he thought about his own corruption, the damage he’d attempted to inflict upon Paris and its inhabitants. At least he couldn’t remember a thing about it.
Resting his drumming fingers, he reached down to reclaim his fallen pencil, opening his sketchbook to a new page. Perhaps another attempt would break him free of the rut he’d been stuck in. He wasn’t optimistic, but without trying he’d never get anywhere.
He tapped the pencil against his lip absently, gazing out across the Parisian landscape. The Eiffel Tower loomed high above him and he admired the metal latticework, yet was without desire to immortalise it by hand. He’d never been much good with inanimate objects - they lacked the flow of living depictions.
He was so caught up in his musing that he failed to hear the oncoming footsteps until a voice broke through his reverie.
“Hey, Red. Whatcha drawin’?”
He glanced up in surprise, catching the eyes of his pink-haired classmate who stood before him, gazing down with curiosity.
“Oh, hi Alix,” he smiled warmly at her. “Nothing at the moment. I can’t seem to find the necessary inspiration, everything just comes out… flat.”
The sporty girl nodded in commiseration, dropping down beside him.
“That’s a bummer, but I’m sure you’ll think of something soon - you’re wicked creative,” she assured him.
“Thank you, I hope you’re right. But anyway, what was with all that shouting going on earlier?” He asked.
Alix pursed her lips, her brows furrowed.
“Oh, that. Just Kim being Kim, that’s all. Now that Adrien is dating Marinette, the idiot won’t shut up about his new plan to win over Chloé. God knows what he sees in her, she’s a total bitch who never thinks of anyone but herself,” she muttered, adjusting the brim of her cap.
Nathaniel hummed in agreement.
“Well, I guess you’d know better than anyone, right?” He replied, testing the point of his pencil against his thumb.
Alix scoffed, sticking out her tongue.
“Don’t remind me. I don’t even remember what was going through my mind when I hung out with those two - I should have bailed long before I did,” she growled to herself.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. So you made a mistake, you’ve atoned for it,” Nathaniel rebuked her softly.
“I guess,” she mumbled. “Thanks, Nath.”
He beamed at her for a moment before returning his focus to the sketchbook on his lap, staring at the blank, white sheet before him with determination.
As the minutes passed in comfortable silence, he glanced back up only to find Alix had closed her eyes and was leaning against the bench they were sat on. In a rare display, her cap had been removed from her head, instead lying on her knee, and her spiky pink locks swayed gently in the breeze.
Nathaniel had never seen such contentment.
His hands almost moved without his direction, the pencil no longer seeming to fight his grasp, rather appearing to dance across the page, creation blooming to life with an ease he’d never had before.
It seemed like almost no time had passed at all before his pencil stilled, the visage of his friend staring up at him from the sketchbook. Delight bubbled up within him as he beheld his work - it was unlike anything he had ever drawn before.
An involuntary cheer escaped his lips, startling the tomboy beside him. Alix’s blue eyes shot open, her gaze immediately sliding to him.
“Jeez, Red. Warn a girl before you do that, will you?” She asked, settling her cap back onto her head.
“Sorry Alix, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he apologised, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“Hmm. No harm done, I guess,” she decided.
Her eyes caught sight of the drawing in Nathaniel’s lap and she gasped in surprise.
“Wow. Is that me?” She wondered, gazing in amazement.
Nathaniel nodded, blushing lightly at her awe.
“This is incredible, Nath. You’ve got a real talent for this, you know?” She exclaimed. “I bet people would pay loads for you to do drawings for them.”
The redhead shrugged modestly, but couldn't help his pleased smirk.
“Well, I have done a few commissions in the past. Adrien wanted a load of Ladybug and Chat Noir sketches,” the artist’s voice lowered in a conspiratorial whisper. “Mainly of them kissing.”
Alix guffawed at this juicy tidbit.
“He’s such a fanboy, honestly,” she laughed. “Sometimes I wonder who loves them more - him or Alya.”
“It’s definitely a close-run thing,” Nathaniel agreed.
Alix’s phone beeped and she fished it from her pocket, frowning.
“Oh blast, I gotta jet. Jalil’s got some project or something and my dad wants me to help him,” she explained.
Nathaniel nodded, beginning to pack away his stuff.
“Yeah. It’s getting late, I should probably head home anyway. It was nice seeing you Alix,” he replied.
“Yeah, we should hang out more. We never got around to repainting my bike, remember?” She punched his shoulder lightly.
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes in confusion before remembering the plan they’d made a year ago.
“You’re right, text me whenever you want to do that. I’m not busy for a while,” he agreed.
“Totally. Well, see ya,” Alix said, preparing to dash off.
“Wait! Before you go, I want you to have this,” Nathaniel grasped her lightly by the wrist.
She turned back to him, eyebrows raised in surprise as she looked at the piece of paper held out to her.
“Your sketch? Are you sure?” She asked, uncertain.
“You deserve it, you helped me break my artist’s block after all,” he assured her.
The shorter girl wrinkled her nose for a moment, before grinning at him, taking the drawing.
“Alright then, thanks! I’ll hang it on my wall. But now I really gotta get going, catch you later,” she shouted, breaking into a run.
Nathaniel watched her go, his mouth turning up in a tiny smile. He couldn't wait to get home and try some more sketches. He had a feeling his new muse was going to last him quite a while.