Graffiti Casanova

Secrets

"Claire?"

That was it, that voice-- what had woken me up. I lifted my head towards the voice, but I was disoriented and had to turn in a couple different directions until I found the source-- a shadow of a man standing just inside the doorway.

"Casanova?" My voice was raspy, and my senses were returning to me. Good grief, there was a very good chance I looked like a mess. "How long have I been asleep?"

He chuckled. "I have no idea. Could be hours."

Hours? I turned, my gaze blurring around to the floor, the walls, back to Casanova. I still wasn't fully awake.

"The others just left," he said.

The others?

"You've finished?" That woke me up. I jumped to my feet. "Can I see?"

He slipped back through the door, reaching behind him to hold it open for me. His gas mask was gone, replaced by a once-white, now paint-splattered bandanna.

The chill and stillness of early morning hung in the air. The RV's were gone, along with everything else. But what remained-- what remained was incredible.

I stood frozen, gaping at the incredible explosion of color that streaked across the outside of Lana's diner. I thought it was amazing before, when it was unfinished, but this-- it was Casanova's best work yet.

Bubblegum pinks and sunny yellows, tropical blues and fruity reds leaped out in spirals and stark starbursts that shot out across the lengths of the walls as well as the heights. I didn't know where to settle my eyes, every time I looked away something else caught my attention.

"This..." I didn't even try to finish. I stepped away, circling the building to get a better view of the other side. Casanova quietly watched me, not moving from his spot near the door.

I realized that I was blinking away the sting of tears. It was amazing, what he'd done for Lana. I looked at him.

"It's beautiful." I didn't mean for it to come out as a choked whisper, but it did. He dipped his head, his gaze lowering along with it. He turned to look at the walls. It seemed he wasn't used to face-to-face recognition for his work.

"You can tell Lana that we'll help load everything back in later tonight," he said. "I'm gonna pack up the rest of my things." He tilted his head towards the door and disappeared inside.

I let my gaze linger a little longer on the mural before following him.

A deep blue was swelling on the horizon and cars were venturing out into the morning as I ducked inside. I found Casanova crouched in the corner with his bag and gear scattered around. There was silence for a moment, I was unsure of how to break it.

"Thank you."

Casanova stopped his movements but didn't turn.

I cleared my throat. "I know we got the better end of the deal." I took a breath and said again, "thank you."

Casanova turned, producing a black notebook from his jacket.

"I think we have yet to see if that's true." He lifted an eyebrow. "I also think it's my turn to see your work now," he said. He held up the notebook, which I now realized was my lyrics book.

"Hey!"

His eyes laughed at me, and he shrugged, sitting back against the wall. "Only fair." He tapped the spot next to him on the floor with the tips of his fingers.

I pursed my lips, but he was right. I owed him, after all; we both knew he'd done Lana and I a huge favor.

"Fine." I huffed, but dropped to the floor to sit beside him.

It was excruciating watching one of my artistic idols read my inner thoughts. Especially since much of what was in the notebook was early drafting of the actual outcomes.

But I bit back any comments, reminding myself he'd already heard my songs. He had liked them.

I watched his eyes; they lingered on my Space Lovers tribute song and filled with approval before he flipped on.

He paused on the lyrics I'd written last night. He looked up at me.

"Inspired by you guys," I said with a little shrug and sheepish smile.

His eyes smiled back.

"It seems we can't stop finding inspiration in each other, can we?"

My breath caught at that. It was insane that he found what I did inspiring.

Casanova flipped the notebook shut abruptly. "You should share more of these." He tapped the cover with an index finger. I tried not to grimace, but must not have succeeded. 

"You don't agree?" He looked intently at my face.

I sighed, leaning back against the wall.

"Some are okay. Most aren't any good." I shrugged. "That's how it goes, though, isn't it? Create bad art to create good art?"

"Bad and good by whose standards?"

"I don't know."

He looked at me. "What are they by your standards?"

"My standards only matter if I keep it all to myself."

"Your standards are the only ones that ever matter."

I turned to meet his eyes. "Is that your secret?"

He laughed. "I have a lot of secrets. Are you asking for the secret behind my success?"

"The secret behind your art."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'm afraid to show people my work. That's my secret behind my art." He leaned his head back against the wall, gazing at the ceiling. The tip of his bandanna brushed his adam's apple.

I watched him in silence, wishing I could see his face. His honesty was startling. I felt like I knew a side of him everyone else didn't... But I wondered if that would be enough. If I'd ever know all of the sides that he was still hiding.

Sunlight was pouring thickly into the room from the windows like honey.

I looked away from him and leaned my head against the wall too.

"The best secret is that you do it anyway."

Hey lovely readers! Happy Tuesday. :) Let me know what you think down in the comments and don't forget to hit that star! <3

Chapter song is Greying Morning by Falling Up :)