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Suitcase brushes her bangs out of her face, walking hurriedly on the sidewalk, trying to get home. The March air isn’t cold, but it sure isn’t warm.
School has been mentally draining. She wants nothing more than to get home and sleep.
She almost stops feeling her feet, the repetitive motion feeling numbing. So numbing that she almost doesn’t notice the metal hit her foot.
Glancing down, she notices a red metal can next to her foot. She looks up to where it came from, and sees familiar gray hair, spraying some sort of caligraphized message onto the brick wall in front of him.
Suitcase looks down at the can, and weighs her options. She could give it back to him, throw it back, or just leave. The latter would probably be the smartest, and yet she finds herself walking up the grassy slope to where he is.
She pulls her backpack down her shoulders, then yells “Knife!”. Immediately, she tenses up as the other guy turns around, long hair swinging over his shoulder.
The words above his head say in bold letters: JUSTICE FOR STUDENTS. Suitcase tilts her head quizzically at it.
Knife coughs a little. “Ya called my name?”
Suitcase shakes her head, bringing herself back to focus. “S-sorry. I- uh, here’s your spray painting can. It rolled to my feet.”
He raises an eyebrow, then sticks out his hand, and Suitcase stares at it for a moment before blinking and putting the can in it.
Knife twirls it around in his fingers, looking so natural with it. Suitcase can feel herself shrinking into herself, but she tries not to make her fear obvious.
She clearly doesn’t do well enough, as Knife smirks and gestures for her to come closer. Suitcase steps a little closer, and Knife steps to the side.
“Ya like?” He asks quietly, gesturing to the wall.
Suitcase looks at the elaborate lettering, blinking hoarsely at the message. “I do. But what’s it mean?”
“Instead of listening to student complaints, they’re removing study hall.”
Suitcase breath catches. “They… are?”
“Have ya been under a rock?” Knife snorts, and Suitcase feels a hot blush creep up her neck.
“No! I just… have other things to worry about.”
Knife shrugs, then picks up a can of black paint. “If they can do this - which, I’m 95 percent sure is illegal - who knows what else they can do? We have to fight against this.”
“But what can we do? Sometimes we just gotta take things as they come.”
“Not always. Sometimes we can fight for a change.”
He outlines the J in JUSTICE, giving it sharp edges. Suitcase watches, almost entranced, as Knife uses his paint to make the letters pop.
Suitcase lets out a small breath, causing Knife to look over. “Wow. This is… beautiful.”
Knife smiles, wider than Suitcase has ever seen, and more genuine. The school’s ’tough guy’ really wasn’t so tough, was he?
“Spray paintin’ has a bad name. Why… I don’t really know. It’s just a form of art, and art is just a way to express yourself. This is me expressing myself. And, in turn, my ideas.”
“It’s really cool. How do you… do it?”
Continuing the outline of his letter, Knife speaks. “I’ve seen your paintings. You’re good at art too. It’s just like that, ’cept, y’know, I spray the paint instead of using a brush.”
“Wait. You… have?”
“Yeah. No one really notices the art around the school, but I always look at it. Your paintings are always so beautiful, but I also always see the heavy undertones. It’s even more beautiful.”
Suitcase smiles. “Thank you. I’ve never really felt… seen.”
Knife finishes off the E, smiling directly at her. “I got two eyes and 20/20 vision. Why shouldn't I see ya?”
Holding back a laugh, Suitcase brushes the bangs out of her face and finally takes a good look at Knife. The tough eyes held more on the inside than most knew, and that mouth spoke gentler words than Suitcase could ever think.
Knife steps back and takes a good look at his work and sucks in through his teeth. “I could do better. But I think it’s fine. It gets the message across. What do ya think, Suitcase?”
Suitcase freezes at the sound of her name. She didn’t actually think Knife knew who she was. She then realizes that she got asked a question, and stutters out a, “o-oh, I think it’d great! Too much detail can really hide the main point, y’know? I- that’s good when you’re trying to hide a message, but when you want your message front and center, you don’t want too much hiding it.
He nods, stepping back. “When ya say it like that… yeah. I think it’s good. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Well,” he wipes his hands on his pants and puts his cans into a case then grabs the handle, “let’s go.”
“Go?” Suitcase whispers.
“Back home, stupid. Don’t wanna get caught here. They always think it’s me behind the paintings, but they never got no evidence. I always destroy the cameras. See right there?” Knife points to a black camera with a broken screen, and Suitcase frowns.
“Hmm. Neat. How?”
Knife pulls a slingshot and some rocks out of his jacket pocket and smirks toothily. “Neat, right?”
“I’d agree, but I don’t wanna stroke your ego.”
He merely snorts, then grabs Suitcase’s wrist and starts walking away. Suitcase’s breath catches. The contact was so sudden, she didn’t know how to react.
Knife clearly feels her tensing up, as he lets go and turns around worriedly. “Oh, uh, sorry. I’m not used to… asking for permission? Something I should work on, y’know? Not being a brute?”
“Yeah, Marshmallow would certainly appreciate that,” Suitcase mutters, then immediately regrets when Knife’s expression drops. “N-not like that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Ya fine. It’s true. But, no matter how much of a menace I was, I’m not that way anymore, ‘kay?” He starts to walk and Suitcase follows close behind.
“I believe you,” she says simply. They stay silent as Knife enters a run-down cabin that the kids in their school deemed “The Cabin”. No one ever entered there, for reasons Suitcase neither knew nor cared about. “What’re we doing here?” she asks.
Knife grabs a black bag off the floor near the door. “This is where I keep my shit when I’m doing stuff. If ya ever need a safe space to hide or sum, you can come here. No one ever comes here.”
The both of them exit The Cabin, and walk to the other side of the school wall Knife vandalized. No, vandalized was too negative of a word. That Knife spread his ideas on. Made his own.
“So, Suits, where do ya live?” Knife casually asks, and Suitcase’s heart jumps a beat.
And she naturally has to make a dumb joke. “Isn’t it a bit early for nicknames and my address? At least take me out on a date first.”
“Meh. Don’t wanna wait that long, darlin’. But if that’s what you want, I guess we can go on a date.”
Suitcase freezes. “I- what?”
“Ain’t that what you were suggesting? I’m not opposed to that. And, about the address thing, I could just let you walk home alone,” he throws up his hands.
It’s weird. They really only started talking thirty minutes ago. And yet, the idea of a date is appealing. Especially with Knife. She also doesn’t want to go home alone.
“Alright,” she muses quietly, and Knife raises an eyebrow.
“Ah, you want me to leave you alone?”
“W-wait, no. I mean alright to- to the other stuff.”
“The other stuff? Gotta be a bit more specific there, darlin’.”
God, the second time he called her “darling”. It’s making everything seem more romantic than it is.
“Y’know what I mean,” she grumbles, throwing her head down, and he smirks, hooking his fingers around her chin and turning it back up to face him.
“No, I don’t. C’mon, tell me. Alright to what?”
“A-Alright, I’ll go on a date with you!” Suitcase splutters out, face burning red. “A-and, I would like you to walk me home, thank you very much.”
“A’ight. Wasn’t that hard, now was it, darlin’?”
“Ugh, go back to your usual mysterious and know-it-all self.”
Knife smirks. “Oh, you like that? I’ll keep it in mind for our date. Or, maybe even in school.”
Suitcase raises an eyebrow. “You’d really be seen with the shy art girl?”
“Yeah, why not? Gotta let everyone know I give a fuck about ya. All the mutts’ll back off once I’m there.”
“Okay, so I’ll use you as bully repellent. Cool, found a use for you.”
“And as the one person who can see straight through ya. And your art.”
“Mmm, so more like half a purpose now. Can’t have you telling people ’bout my deep secrets.”
“Aww, shucks. Well, we tried.”
Suitcase rolls her eyes fondly, then her eyes catch on the mailbox in front of her. “Oh, Knife, this is my house.”
“Ah, you didn’t even hafta tell me your address.”
“Good thing too.”
“Ya do know I can just read the thing on your mailbox, right?”
“I’m not sure if you can read.”
Knife snorts, and Suitcase giggles. Then, he walks off, waving goodbye over his shoulder.
“A’ight, pick you up at seven o’clock tomorrow for our date!” He calls.
“Wha- since when?”
“Since now!” He yells back, and Suitcase just sighs softly.
She goes back up her stairs, knowing she’s late. But she feels lighter than ever.
All because of that red paint can.