So, this was just an idea I came up with randomly. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please tell me what you think and thanks for reading :D
I don't know what drew me to him. Perhaps it was the fact he was stood out so much, maybe it was the orange hair that turned golden under the mid-afternoon sun or the fact he seemed to have an aura of confidence and ease around him. Perhaps it was the scowl that seemed permanently set on the striking face or the burning intensity of his coffee depths.
It hardly mattered for the moment I set my sights upon him, my camera was brought up as well; silently clicking away as it captured his movements.
It sounds disturbing, I know, just arbitrarily taking photographs of strangers in the park but I'm an artist and cannot help but capture beauty it when it passes me. And a beauty he was.
Zooming in slightly, I snapped another as he let out a breath, frown clearing as he stared into the sky, orange spikes of hair falling into his eyes. The alignment was almost perfect and he looked so stunning with the blue sky behind him.
I'm a relatively well known artist, Uryū Ishida. I mainly focus on landscape but lately, I have had the strangest inclinations. That's why I had found myself at the park. I wished for some inspiration. And I had found it.
Thankfully, the man seemed rather oblivious of my presence, his ears filled with music from his headphones, hands in his pockets as he continued to stride, long legs stretching the distance quickly.
Another photograph as he smiled down at a child who had collided with his legs, a ruffle of hair and half serious scold.
I sighed, content with my work as I watched him disappear around the bend in the park walkway, in between some rather tall oak trees. If only I were able to see him another time…
It was chilly, the cool air seeping through my slim layers of clothing, my scarf the only protection from the bite in the wind. I flicked through my photographs. They had turned out well. There were a few of a woman and her child, laughing as they held hands, swinging around in the waving grass of the park, some of a particularly animated business man, a phone held to his ear as he talked, lip raised in indignation, a couple of a husband and wife, chatting at a café and of course, the photographs of the orange haired stranger I had seen that day.
The moment the bright haired man had stepped out of sight I had gone home, the perfect idea for a painting forming. The thoughtfulness, intensity, determination and fire I had found reflecting in the small glances I had glimpsed were exactly the feeling I desired in my works.
By chance I glanced up and there he was. He was rugged up more than I, shoulders up as he tried to get further into his brown jacket, trimmed with fur. He was kicking his feet slightly, the laces of his black boots swaying as he did. Long legs looked even longer in his khaki skinny jeans, making known his muscular form. The tanned face was half hidden underneath a grey and white triangle scarf and the large blue headphones sat over his ears.
The straight nose was red, ever so slightly, eyes lowered to the ground, orange lashes sprinkled with light droplets of rain.
My camera was in action in a moment, snapping as quickly as it could manage, not bothering to check the poses. Ever movement was like perfection.
Then brown eyes flicked up, glancing my way and I was frozen. Was I going to be caught? Would he call the police? I was technically a pervert, though I hadn't that intention.
However, the eyes left my lens, back to the walkway. I squinted as I went to take another, jumping when he whipped around once again, making me snap what I assume, was a rather blurry photo. Then he approached. He was faster than I had even believed humanly possible, one hand reaching up to push his headphones off while his face contorted in irritation, one eyebrow higher than the other, lip curling.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, bastard?"
I was taken aback for a moment, pushing my glasses up to mask my embarrassment and surprise. What an unfortunate vulgar vocabulary. It didn't match his appearance at all. Well, perhaps now it did.
"I was taking photographs," I replied coolly, lowering the camera as he came to a stop in front of me.
"I can see that, I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing taking photos of me?"
"Well, in fact, I wasn't taking photographs of you; I was taking a picture of that building behind you. If anything, you were the one that was the issue."
His response was unexpected, but amusing. It was if he were mentally strangling me, his eyes glaring curses, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance and he grinned manically.
"Is that right four-eyes? Give me that," he demanded, snatching the camera out of my grip.
Desperately, I reached out to snatch it back but he held it away from me, one arm out, fingers lightly pressed against my chest to stop me from coming any farther.
"Not so fast squinty. Let's have a look shall we?"
I pulled my arms away, simply hoping to move away from the touch on my chest. I watched him as he examined the camera and felt a small rush of relief flood me. It was fortunate that my camera was rather complicated and difficult to manoeuvre. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to discover how to view the photographs. Unfortunately, I could see his finger inching closer to the small black button at the bottom right hand corner of the black camera.
The pictures appeared, the first one was the blurry shot, orange splattered across the image, green blended into it. He flicked to the next, a rather stunning photograph of his brilliant stare; face clear from any scowling, simply painted with open curiosity.
Hastily I snatched the camera away from him, cradling it in my left arm, body turned slightly so he was unable to grab it back. "Snatching is rather rude, or didn't you know that?"
He gritted his teeth, irritated grin in place. "So's taking photos of unsuspecting strangers four-eyes. Now give me that thing so I can delete the photos before I smash it."
I straightened, pushing my glasses up my nose again. "I'm sorry, but I was hoping to keep these photographs. You see, I'm an artist and I needed inspiration."
Brown eyes narrowed and thin lips curled up even further, revealing a dangerous amount of teeth. "That so? See, I don't really care what you need it for, you can't go taking photos of folk as you please."
We stared at each other, each waiting for the other to move.
"Then what's your name four-eyes?"
I shifted, still cradling my camera as I hesitated. "Uryū Ishida," I finally replied, watching closely for his reaction.
He seemed to pause for a moment, perhaps considering if my words were true or not. Scowling he straightened, scratching the back of his head, orange locks ruffling as he did so. "Uryū huh? Still… you need to ask to actually photograph people, you know that right?"
I didn't reply, relieved he had believed me. I was relatively well known but it wasn't as if every stranger on the street had heard of me.
"And I better not find my picture in a freaking art gallery." He glanced at me before turning, reaching to once again place his headphones back on his ears.
"Wait," I called out, surprising myself. "I-I-" I cleared my throat. Stuttering my way through a sentence would hardly do. "I was wondering if you would become my model."
He was frozen; eyes wide in surprise, lips pouted slightly, words stuck on them, his hand still reaching for his headphones.
It was unavoidable really; the image was altogether too innocent I had to capture it.
Visibly jumping his scowl once again appeared and he opened his mouth to complain.
"I'll pay you," I added hastily. Why I was so desperate to have this man as my model, I couldn't say. Perhaps it was simply the same desire that had compelled me to actually photograph him.
He smirked, hands once again in his pockets as he turned his back to me, sticking out his tongue a little. "I don't need your money four-eyes. Find another model."
I watched him walk off, conflicted. I needed him. But I didn't want to cry out for him. Finally I gave a small chuckle, pushing my glasses up my nose again as I gave a slight smile. "I understand, you can't do it."
I had played the 'attack self-confidence' card and hoped desperately it would work.
Stopping dead he turned, eyebrow twitch back again, manic smile glinting. "What did you say four-eyes?"
"You couldn't do the job, carrot top. That's perfectly understandable. It is rather difficult."
He growled, tongue flicking across his teeth as he laughed, eyes on the ground before they stuck to mine once again, burning with the anticipation of a fight. "What's so difficult about it, bastard?"
"I'm simply stating you have to have confidence, bravery and beauty and of course you must actually appreciate art. Not everyone can do it. It's fine, you don't have to worry about it. I will easily find a capable person."
"Oh no, you aren't backing out that easily four-eyes. You obviously asked me for a reason, and now you're saying anyone can do it?"
"No, of course not. I said I can easily find a capable person. You quite clearly turned out to not be one."
The orange haired man grit his teeth, leaning forward to glare into my eyes. "I'll do it four-eyes. I'll take your stupid job and I'll do it perfectly."
I smirked, before allowing myself to stare back. "Perfect."