His Blood Colored Hair | Albert DaSilva x Reader

On The Case

"Hey, Y/n, you alright?" Davey asks, clearly not remembering that I don't like people around when I draw. But instead of crying, I just nod and smile. He sits down next to me and looks at what I drew. "Wow, ya amazin'! Do you think you can draw me?"

I shrug, not being used to drawing people. But I decide, why not? 

I flip to a different page, where I stop using darker strokes and more delicate and softer ones. And after what feels like an hour, I finish the drawing.

(Ignore the modern outfit, I drew this before I even thought of this story)

"Done," I say, feeling proud of the drawing I've created. I turn it around to show Davey, and his eyes go wide.

"Oh my god, that's me. That's actually me. How the hell are you so good at drawin'? I mean, you're probably even bettah than Jack," Davey says, making me laugh.

"Well, Jack's better with painting and landscapes. I'm better at drawing people, and things I see," I say, mocking Jack for always drawing the place he's never seen before. 

"Dang! You could end up takin' Jack's job woikin' as a cartoon ahtist," Romeo says, trying to cheer me up. I smile to myself, feeling my insides feel warm from all the compliments. I look back down at the drawing and hand it to Davey.

"Here, it's all yours," I say. Before he can protest, I cut him off. "No arguing. I don't have anything to do with it, it's yours and I made it for you." He freezes for a moment before folding it into his pocket. I smile and stand up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit, so don't tell Race I'm gone."

The boys nod their heads. Race is in the showers right now, so I have about 3 minutes before he gets out to leave. 

So I grab my sketchbook and pencil and head out of the building. Once I'm outside, I feel my lungs expand. It's hard to live in a house filled with boys that sweat, and stink constantly.

I begin walking down the street, which has very few people today. While passing by many beautiful buildings and statues, which I draw initial sketches, totally prepared to not finish them later.

I take a seat on a nearby bench and begin shading in my drawing of Horace Greeley, when out of the corner of my eye, I see a person that makes my heart stop, sitting across the street on a bench. The man who walked out of the alley.

I quickly flip to a different page in my sketchbook and begin drawing his face, which I can now see from the front. He has a short beard, a soft jaw, and a long nose that comes to a point. When I'm almost done drawing, two hands come down on my shoulders, making me scream.

Ready to defend myself, I punch the person behind me in the face. But when I turn around, instead of being met with some stranger, I see Albert clutching his cheek and doubled over in pain.

"Oh my god, Al, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!" I yell, ignoring all the eyes of strangers on me. After a second, Albert stands straight and smiles goofily with his hand still cupped on his cheek.