they stood in complete, wonderfully awkward silence until―

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★'°

- until the stranger who suspiciously  hid his hands behind his back decided to clear his throat, shifting the weight onto his other leg.

"are you here often?" yoongi needed a few seconds to regain his stern yet somehow blank face and decided to just nod as an answer. it was a powerful nod, one which told the stranger;
"yes, actually - i was here first. this is my place." but well, he couldn't really say that. this wasn't really anyone's place after all, it was just an isolated place - not to yoongi, though. to him this was almost  his everything, he still had a dog after all. one of the only things which he truly appreciated in life; his dog, holly.

the silence remained and it sticked to the both of them like a piece of chewed, useless and tasteless gum would under your shoe. which is why yoongi decided to pull it out, not by speaking up, though. instead he retreated to another wall, which now went by the name of  "my new favourite wall." silly, how easily human beings moved on, huh? 
yoongi slid down the wall, pulling his knees close to him and carefully placing a little notebook atop of them, now having two free hands to search for his favourite pen. and..- it was gone. great.

his eyes immediately flickered up as he heard something being rolled over to him; a pen. not his pen, but a pen. and it didn't look all too cheap either, it was a decent size and had a nice design with a smooth texture, the only problem was that it didn't belong to him, nor was this the pen that he was looking for. his eyes met the shy, probably even intimitated eyes of the stranger, who really did try his best to smile. again, yoongi didn't speak up, he held the pen up to the stranger and presented it to him. graffiti boy scanned yoongi, unsure of what to do or what to say - which is why he just went with nodding, honestly, this guy might be much shorter and much more weak looking than him, but he was simply just scary.

"you needed one, right? you can keep it, if you want to. i prefer ..this..-"

the stranger shook the spray can in his hand, an unsure smile ghosting over his lips. he seemed proud over that simple, cheap object in his hand. as if it meant the world to him. human beings are strange. we own a lot of things - like a tv, computers and sometimes even stuff like microwaves, crazy, right? yet we still often hold small, much less expensive things the closest to our hearts.
maybe it's the memories and the familiar comfort sticking on them that makes them so special to us, maybe we're just dumb, who knows?

yoongi looked at the spray can, not sure what to think of it. he never really made memories with spray cans, which is why he couldn't really think of anything what could make this object even just the slightest bit interesting to him. wait- no. there is something. the corners of his lips inched up; even if it was just a little bit.

he remembered the first time he saw his first HOPELESS art piece, it wasn't really an eventful day, it wasn't like fate forced him to bump into this precious memory or something, his life wasn't anything worth telling after all. but that picture was, HOPELESS was worth telling about and being told about.

you see, HOPELESS was a pretty famous artist which went viral numerous times due to controversy. his artwork was brutally honest, sometimes ironic. sometimes detailed and sometimes not. his artwork was nothing but everything at the same time. sometimes he just painted the walls, sometimes he actually used objects like telephone cells or nails to create his thousands of mocking, harming and truthful words. it was beautiful. HOPELESS truly understood the meaning of art, or so yoongi thought, at least. to many other people HOPELESS was just someone who broke the law, a vandalist.
how come they didn't appreciate living in the same town with one of the most famous, anonym artists in the modern times? he couldn't understand.

yoongi's eyes wandered to the wall, where the stranger had started painting. it didn't look very pleasing to yoongi, now, that really looked a lot like vandalism. not on his property.

"that's pretty ugly."  instead of what he expected, he got a proud; "i know, right?" as an answer. and not just that, no, the guy dared to sit down next to him. at least he left some distance between them, which is why yoongi's eyes went all the way back to the mess on the wall. it was a bunch of spray lines, sometimes circles, sometimes not.

"the human mind really is an ugly place. sometimes i start drawing these kinds of things all over paper, spraying it on lonely, empty walls feels much nicer, though. it's like i’m sharing with this place. i have too much of this, it has too little of it."

that actually made sense - in a way - because yoongi did a very similar thing. only that his creations stayed on paper. also, his creations often were actual words. words which created a poem, like a puzzle. but they also very often weren't actual words. sometimes they were lonely, angry circles - and sometimes they weren't. what a strange way to let out your feelings.

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they had made a deal, even though neither of them had said anything at all.

grafitti boy, as he would refer to him from now on stayed at his wall - yoongi's old, now long forgotten and replaced "favourite wall" - and he himself would stay on the other side, at another empty wall. he had his earphones plugged in, as to not hear the annoying, neverending spraying of grafitti boy. a soft tune lulled him into peace again, forced him into the arms of the repeating cycle called his life yet again. as if nothing changed. but it did, even if he didn't want to accept it. something, or rather; someone has burst into his life - not just that - into his alone place and changed up his daily, neverending cycle.

both of them were way too busy to think of that. one of them was now angrily spraying black and red circles onto the walls of an left behind, run-down factory while the other was completely immersed in scribbling down his mess  - his entire chaotic bundle of thoughts, tangled into each other - creating a chaos which he just couldn't handle by himself. he scribbled them down in an desperate attempt to untanlge them and maybe even for others  to see. maybe they'll relate to him, maybe they won't. he just wanted to get it off of his own, fragile shoulders.

his thoughts didn't just occupy his brain, some of them even tangled around his fragile, small heart so that they could tug at it whenever they pleased. sometimes he had the urge to just cut them through, to just cut it all through. but that doesn't seem like a good idea. that wasn't a good way out. not at all.

in the end he wanted to get rid of them, not of everything.

he wanted to get rid of them. they both did. we all do.

after quite a bit of time his mind ran out of thoughts, yoongi pulled out his earphones and sighed. was he angry? was he frustrated? he didn't know. what he did know was that something was off; it was quiet. eyes filled with curiousity wandered all over the place, the cans were there, the ugly painting was there but he - he was not there―

"that's pretty not ugly. that's actually really good."

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[ holy shit a second chapter in one day how did i even do that