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It was late afternoon. Indication of time was always scarce on the ground- it being a sunless expanse, after all. The sphere hung heavy to the right of the ‘sky’, heaven’s eyes lazily staring at the relatively empty streets of the East Ward. At such an hour, normally, people would be scattered about nearly everywhere: in the shops, back-alleys, even a few just hangling around outside the cleaner’s base.
Inside said building, it was also a similar quiet. Most of Team Danger was always out on commission, Team Child were visiting canvas town… And Team Akuta, they were always somewhere weird. Albeit that being mostly Enjin’s fault, their stories seemed endless.
Follo blinked himself out of his thoughts. He’d been inertly perched on his desk chair for the past few minutes, gawking at his moreso mundane table and its contents. In reality, he’d been putting off something. That something being more of a someone, as he had a favour to ask.
Hands curling into balls of ‘Just do it!’, he abruptly stood and rigidly marched to the door of his room. It creaked open sheepishly, and with his best look of ‘casual’ Follo stepped out.
Bee-lining to August’s workshop, he conjured up how, or really, what, to say. He wanted to pay back Rudo after tearing up his uniform after their last mission together- mainly out of his subconscious sense to permanently owe, but also as a friendly gesture; Rudo seemed like a nice person, and he definitely wouldn’t mind being his friend.
… He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. Rudo might not even want to know him, let alone be friends. This would just have to be an apologetic exchange. Nothing else.
As Follo’s feet found themselves a fair few steps away from the proud workshop door, the words slid and scampered back down his throat. Forcing himself to continue, however, he gently pushed it open.
“Who’s that?” Follo froze. It was August’s voice, lazily slurred and probably only a handful of metres away. Follo’s shoulders hunched over the door handle, unsure what to do.
”Hello?” Suddenly, the door yanked open- August appearing behind it, donning a look of confusion. Follo was lucky enough to straighten up in time and let go of the handle so he wasn’t dragged along with it, royally embarrassing himself.
The words pushed themselves out. “Sorry,” Follo started, voice surprisingly clear despite the actively dissipating awkward situation (thank God it was only him finding the ordeal awkward), “Are you busy…?”
There was a short pause- August’s expression was unreadable behind the thick, cartoonish goggles, yet he was inert.
In a snap back to life, he responded: “Nope. Whaddya need?”
Phew. August gracefully waddled to the side, letting Follo slip in to talk properly. After all, conversing between a doorway wasn’t the most comfortable of settings.
Follo’s eyes magnetised to the vibrant and warm colours arrayed around the space. Various shapes, objects, and fabrics spread like clouds in a summertime’s sky watching. For a second, he forgot all about what he was going to say- too mesmerised. He tip-toed further into the workshop, especially careful to not knock anything over.
August snorted, nudging him on the shoulder. “It’s not all made of fine china, dude.” He joked, then added: “But yeah, don’t touch anything.”
“Got it…” Follo eased up ever so slightly, head pulling up from the floor. August had grabbed him a little wooden stool- it was adorned in all sorts of dried paint, splatters, strokes, spillages; it looked like an artist’s palette as furniture.
“Oh- thanks.” He spoke, tone much brighter. August flopped back into his own desk chair, instantly pulling one of his legs up; Follo politely did the same, sat a few meters away from the other’s drawing table.
”So-” August started, “What is it then, man?” His head cocked enthusiastically- or was it confusion? It was still achingly hard to tell with the goggles.
”It’s… not really important though- I mean, if you’ve got a lot of things on your hands…” Follo hesitated, eyes rolling down to the side.
As if he’d heard Follo’s previous thoughts, August tugged the goggles off his head and let them rest round his neck. In a slightly lowered voice, he responded: “I ain’t got enough to do. Come on, hit me.”
That was relieving to hear, at least. Follo’s eyes met his, as if he was asking permission to. “Okay then,” he said, slowing down from his usual rush to please. “I wanted to know if it was possible for you to make a new uniform for Rudo, please…?”
“Rudo? What’d he do to it?” Instantly, August’s face dropped to a hallowed dread. “Did he get shit-”
”No!” Follo’s hands flailed up in a waving motion. Even he, forever worried, couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at the miscommunication. “He didn’t do anything, bless him.” He explained, tone softening. The usual tightness to his voice had left after talking to August for a bit.
“It was… me, who ruined it.” Follo admitted, hand creeping over to hold his other arm.
“You did?” August wore a look of puzzlement, yet the creases in his face Follo could tell weren’t directed at him. It was nice to know someone wasn’t angry at him. “But wasn’t your last mission with him like ages ago?”
”It was four days ago, yeah.” Follo responded, fidgeting to hide his ashamed expression.
“Okay… that’s all good n stuff but… what did you actually ruin? Last time I saw Rudo’s fit it looked fine.”
“I- really? I tore a huge hole in it, though.”
After a brief moment for August to rack his brain of the scarce times he’d seen Rudo, he began to break out into laughter.
”You mean… the tiny little rip on the elbow?”
It wasn’t tiny, was it? Maybe Follo’s had just overreacted…
”Sorry- I thought it was bigger, probably… if it’s fine then you don’t have to make him a new one.” He fumbled out an apology, embarrassment growing.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll still make him a new one; it’s sweet of you, too.”
… August thought he was sweet?
”Wait-” Seems like he’d realised his slip up before Follo had fully processed it. “I mean- it’s sweet of you to do.”
“Oh, yeah- I get it… Thanks.” Follo couldn’t help but smirk slightly.
There were a few seconds of quiet, before he spoke up again.
”Well- if that’s good, d’you want me to go-?”
”Wait.” August had turned to his sketchbook, flipping to a fresh page. Follo stumped his movement to get up, curious as to what he was on about.
”I’ve been thinking…” He started, still not looking over ar Follo. “That the Cleaner’s uniforms are… a little outdated, right?”
”Right…” Follo shuffled his chair closer, trying to peek into the sketchbook.
“And since Rudo needs a new one, what if I make him a new one?”
New cleaners outfits? If only he was…
”Yeah, that’s a good idea… if you don’t mind me asking though, what do the updated versions look like?” Follo tried to hide the dissapoint in his voice. He always got a bit glum at the mention of Cleaners, purely from his longing to be one.
”Ehh,” August tapped a pencil he’d plucked from one of his pots against his chin. “Dunno.”
After a moment, he scribbled out a rough sketch onto a page, face screwed up in decisions. He waved out his free hand, egging Follo to come over and see.
Follo took his chair and parked it on the left side of August’s desk, eyeballing the paper.
“Whaddya think? Be honest.” August said, staring at the figure drawing.
It looked similar to Rudo’s current drawing, yet with more detail in some spaces. When he looked closer, Follo could notice both personal add ins and practical new features. Aside from the actual concept, the proportions were immaculate along with the line work for what was a 2 minute scrawling.
“Wow,” he mumbled, face blank with awe.
“Gonna need a bit more than that. Got any criticism?”
”Uhh…” Follo’s mind mirrored his expression.
”C’mon.” August’s head flicked to face him. “There’s gotta be something.”
“… You could maybe add inner pockets to the jacket? It’s obvious if he has trash stuffed in his outer pockets, so if he needs something discreetly…”
Without even contemplating it, August began drawing again.
“Like that?”
“Yeah, like that.”
August goggled and gawked at the updated version, comically squeezing his eyes then blowing them wide. Was this guy… okay?
”Yeah dude, that’ll work.” Was all he said, then flipped to another page to start the actual design.
Follo simply gazed as the pencil moved; watching it as it glided across the expanse of empty. He for one couldn’t even draw a convincing circle, yet adored whatever August put on the paper. He had seen his work previously, yet never admitted his admiration- only looked from afar. He was used to being the background, after all, so it wasn’t like August would particularly appreciate his fascination with his artwork: he probably would find Follo a bit creepy. Was he creepy?
“Y’know,” August pulled him back down from his thoughts. Follo acknowledged his voice, yet remained entranced at the paper. He responded with a calm hum, to at least let the other aware of his consciousness.
”It’s kind n’ all that you wanna do this for Rudo,” He continued- still sketching. “But… don’t think you have to. It wasn’t your fault, Follo.”
He blinked. Firstly, August knew his name? Well- obviously yes. Despite that it was still alien to hear the man say it out loud. Secondly, it was his fault.
Wasn’t it?
“It was, though. I got carried away and-”
”So what?” August stopped sketching, but didn’t turn to face Follo. “Did you go outta your way to tear it up?”
”No, ‘course not.” Follo mumbled, fidgeting with his nails.
”And he knows that. So yeah, you’re cool for doing this but you don’t owe that to him. You don’t owe anything to anyone.”
Follo caught the protest in his mouth like a fisherman would reel in his catch. His mouth fell open, yet the sound had already lost its purpose so it silently shut again. He didn’t know how to respond; he always owed. August couldn’t just…
”Follo.” He finally turned to face him, eyes of silky crystalline magenta- a similar tone to his goggles that hung around his neck, yet instead of their vibrant orange a much cooler colour.
“Yeah- I get it.” He said, voice light- as if he didn’t even realise he was speaking.
August went back to his work, seemingly satisfied with the response. After a few minutes, he had finished the final design. It looked much sharper, with more refined detail and accurate graphics in the shade and usage of his pencil. Wide eyed, Follo took in the artwork. To August, it was something so simple in his ability that it couldn’t be deemed special. All his work was good, so this one wouldn’t stand out. To Follo, though, it had him wondering why August hadn’t moved to Canvas Town already.
“Ya think he’ll like it?” August tapped the pencil against his chin.
”You think? Obviously, just look at it!”
“Pfft- c’mon, it’s not like I did anything too spectacular.” It was nice to have someone run his ego. Normally, whenever August asked for an opinion it would be from Eishia, who always gave the same “It’s great!”, then she rushed back to work. He would take all the flattery he could get; gracefully, of course.
”You can’t be serious. Rudo’s gonna love it!” Follo’s whole face had lit up with excitement, already playing out the scenario. He’d give the new uniform to Rudo, he’d be as awestruck as Follo, and boom- they’d be friends instantly.
“Thanks, dude.” August leaned back in his chair, pulling up his goggles. “Right, I’m gonna get somethin’ done while I’ve still got the motivation- you still wanna chill here?” He cocked his head over to look at Follo, who seemed more than happy to stay.
“Cool. I can show you a few things,” August stood- stretching. “If you want; of course.”
”Sure, I don’t mind.” Follo put his hands on his knees, leaning atop them.
“Tell me if you get bored.”
”Bored? I could never.”
”Seriously, though. Some of this stuff can really drag out.”
“… I will, August.” He didn’t, though, because even if it was mind-numbingly dull, it was miles better than being by himself.