Blacksmith『 ᵈᵃᵛⁱᵈ ʰᵒᶜᵏⁿᵉʸ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ 』

ㅤ▬▬ 𝟐.𝟏

❝Hockney's POV❞

▬▬ 𝕿ime is everything, isn't it? Unfortunately, it's not what we have an abundance of.

Time is an instrument. It can both be the most difficult yet the easiest one to play with. If you ask a musician for advice on how to master an instrument, they would tell you it takes a lot of effort to perfect playing an instrument.

Unfortunately, no one has perfected playing this special instrument called time. Everyone used time as if it were a mere object because they saw no importance to its existence. They only saw it as time, not for its purpose but as a series of numbers that limit them from being one step closer to their desires.

As the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years mold into memories, the painter and the blacksmith, whom used to butt heads frequently, easily became the best of friends. Time really is something, especially when turning old wounds into just memories.

Speaking of time, the two roommates spent their time at work. Hockney spent his time making commissions while Y/N spent her time forging weapons, making hinges, and cutting down trees for extra money. Since the deadline for the rent was nearing, both of them worked themselves to the bone, hoping to earn the required money before the deadline.

By the end of the day, the myriad of workload exhausted Hockney and Y/N. Their bodies barely had any energy left; While walking they both looked like sloths trying to go down the tree to piss, which brought the villagers questioning gazes upon them, but the pair couldn't care less; they just wanted to get some sleep.

Once they had arrived in their humble abode, they collapsed on the couch and filled the living room with exhaustion, and with mutual silence.

Y/N heaved her chest, then sucked in the surrounding air. Sweat trailed from her glistening forehead whilst some strands of hair stuck onto her skin. Followed by the girl's muscles, which were screaming for relief.

As for the white-haired male, he's covered in sweat as well, but his arms weren't in the best condition, especially since he had to draw a mountain of commissions in one day. As for his brain, it was dry as a prune, because he had used up all his brain juice to recreate his clients' imaginations on their desired canvases.

"Today was exhausting..." The albino male muttered whilst the horned girl hummed in agreement, then silence reigned the room once again.

For a mere second, Hockney closed his eyes ready to retreat to his mind palace. He took one step forward towards his realm and then, he's suddenly met with this wave of nostalgia.

Oddly enough, the sweet and sour memories from the past were enough to whip him right up. Albeit, those shared memories were short-lived, but they were rightfully sweet, that's why Hockney views those shared memories as his home.

When he finished reliving his nostalgia, he finally had enough energy to cheer up his roommate or make small talk at least.

"Hey, Y/N?"

The horned girl adjusted a little then, rolled her eyes at him. "Shut up and let me die."

The artist sighed at his roommate's remark. Y/N's always snarky whenever she's exhausted from work- scratch that, she is always snarky, but she tries to tone it down from time to time, that time to time is usually when she's mentally sane.

The thought of her overworked state caused Hockney's smile to waver. He felt helpless. Although he has done his part, he couldn't help but compare his hard work to Y/N's hard work.

The male albino has tried to make ends meet with his limited skills, sadly he was not as strong as Y/N, so he wasn't fit for most of the job qualifications, whilst his talents weren't fit for most of the jobs.

The only job that was fit for him was being a freelance artist that took commissions. Unfortunately, few people from the 40th floor were interested in art commissions unless the art pieces were free. This leads him to feel useless compared to Y/N, he even thinks that she resents him for earning little money.

Even though he had never voiced his doubts to the brute girl, she always acknowledged that she appreciates his efforts. She even lists all the things he'd done to help contribute to their household while complimenting him for giving his all. And just the thought of the compliments she had given him, had energized him to cheer her up again.

"I guess I'll have all the chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese to myself then." The pale artist jokes. He stands up as if he was heading to the kitchen but, the tired girl was quick to delay his plans by grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to the couch.

"Wa (What)?" The girl lazily asked.

The male noticed her lazy response, which shifted his expression into an amused look. "Are you tired or lazy?"

"Both." The horned girl replied, now her eyes looking into Hockney's. "So, what do you want?"

"Do you have a home?"

"This is my home." The albino noticed that the girl's brows narrowed a bit, but dismissed it because he assumed that Y/N was just in a foul mood.

"You know that a home differs from a house, right?" The pale male questioned his roommate.

"I know..." The horned girl's voice was meek. This time Hockney could tell something was wrong.

"Sorry, did I hit a nerve?" He asked. Oddly enough, this question of his made her chuckle.

"If you didn't sound worried, that question would've sounded like you were mocking me." A small smile had settled on her tired face.

The smile she wore seemed genuine, but Hockney could tell that the smile she wore had an underlying meaning to it. The girl is tired, and she's probably wearing that smile to drive away his worries but, he was an artist.

▬▬ 𝕿𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝. 𝕮𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 2
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♡ㅤㅤ ≡ ㅤ➭ㅤ ㅤ⌂
ᴸⁱᵏᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉ