hobbies

It was a brisk day when Yarrow, Moss, and Moss’s twin, Pine, made their way to one of Inkopolis’s many parks. It was Yarrow’s first taste of changing weather after growing up in the stale-aired underground. He liked how the leaves on trees started changing to rich warm hues and the sound the ones that’d fallen made when they crunched under his feet. 

It turned out he got cold pretty easily too, which he didn’t like as much. The twins were kind enough to flank him as they walked to block out some of the cool breeze. Moss seemed to just be enjoying the time outside while Pine was focused on carrying a small collection of painting supplies.

“So Pine’s hobby is doing art.” Moss started to cheerfully explain what their weekend activity was going to be. “I don’t really know how to describe the art they do, but they’re really —”

“I’m sorry to break this to you, Moss, but I do know Pine well enough to know that they’re an artist.” Usually, Yarrow would let them ramble about whatever they wanted to, but it seemed unnecessary to explain Pine to him when they all grew up together.

Pine just snorted a laugh at the uncharacteristic interruption. Moss had a rare look of mild annoyance on their face before it smoothed out into a thoughtless smile.

“I don’t know if I can be ‘an artist’ when it’s just something I do in my free time, but, yeah, I try.” Pine wasn’t nearly as animated as their brother, tending toward a deadpan look and perpetual pessimism. Yarrow felt as if he was the middle ground between their extremes as he stood between them.

“I do not think the amount of time you spend on a skill determines if you’re good enough to claim it. It’s about the dedication to it.” The confidence in which the boy dropped his wisdom on the older pair made them look at each other in surprise. Yarrow always had a very direct and sincere way of saying things that Pine just couldn’t figure out how to argue with and that Moss found endearing.

The walk continued in silence until Pine found a quiet patch of grass away from any of the other park goers. They unpacked some acrylic paints and brushes from their backpack. Two small canvases rested under their arm, and they handed one to Yarrow.

“I brought you this. Paint whatever you feel like. There’s lots of scenery around.” Pine gestured around at the trees surrounding them.“...not that I’m gonna paint it. We’re just out here because Mom hates the mess.”

It wasn’t Yarrow’s first time painting, but he wasn’t exactly confident at it. Having a required art elective in school familiarized him with some basics, like how primary colors mixed to make other colors and how to add complimentary colors to make darker shades. It would be a challenge to make something passable as art, but challenges can make a person stronger.

He sat cross-legged on the grass and balanced his canvas against his backpack. Moss laid next to him and stretched their arms over their head lazily; it made their shirt ride up, and Yarrow had to resist the urge to poke them. They really had no business having a six-pack when they were a desk jockey.

“You’re not going to paint, Moss?”

“Nope! I’ve tried it before but it’s not my thing.” They didn’t sound down about it or anything, thankfully.

The actual artist of the group settled on the other side of Moss with canvas and a small palette of bright primary colored paint. Pine didn’t resist the urge to open-palm slap their brother on the stomach, causing them to groan in pain and roll over on their side. Pine propped up their canvas against their twin’s back and seemed to be planning, looking between it and Yarrow.

The sudden scrutinizing gaze on him made him blush. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to paint you, obviously.”

“You’re going to paint me while I’m painting?”

“Obviously.” Pine’s voice was curt. It was time to stop bothering the artist, he guessed.

Pine dipped their brush into some blue paint got to work right away with quick, confident strokes across their canvas. They clearly knew exactly what they were doing while Yarrow still struggled for an idea. The scenery around them was definitely nice, but the unfamiliar air and colors made him long for home. He thought of the one oasis he had in the dark underground tunnels of Octo Canyon… the eternal springtime garden that acted as his team’s headquarters for so long.

Yarrow didn’t know anything about color theory or how to create forms and depth, but thankfully just being able to picture his subject well enough helped. He remembered the dark, rich wood that constructed the temple that sat in the middle of the dome, and how it was tinted almost purple under the perpetual twilight of the dim artificial sun. He knew exactly how the stepping stones were placed and how many gold ornaments sat on the roof.

Small flowers dotted the grass on the way to the temple steps. Sometimes he would pick one to bring inside to Cedar, his boss and the twins’ mom, as a gift. He could practically still smell the tea she would make for him in return; the tea that she grew, in fact. The lush garden she cultivated in the dome functioned as much more than just the sector’s oxygen recycler, after all.

Even with only the basic art skills he’d been learning in Visual Art 101, he managed to make a picture he felt content with. It wasn’t exactly original, but it evoked a warm feeling for him.

Yarrow as so absorbed in the memory that he didn’t realize that the sun was lower in the sky. Moss was fast asleep on the grass and Pine was still working on their own canvas. He put his painting in front of the sleeping twin and poked their cheek until their eyes blearily blinked open. It took a few moments for them to focus on what was in front of them, but when they could finally see, their brows went up in surprise.

“You painted the garden?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else.” Yarrow defended. It felt kind of silly now that he was showing someone else.

Pine tore their eyes away from their canvas long enough to look too. They looked equally as impressed, and gestured for Yarrow to hand it over to them. Their judging gaze on the painting somehow felt even more embarrassing then when it was directed on him.

“It’s kind of incredible that you captured so much detail with so little skill.” Yarrow tried to focus on the nice part of Pine’s comment.

“It looks fantastic, Yarrow!” Moss was always more open with praise. They gave him a thumbs-up, which jostled Pine’s painting resting against them, much to their twin’s annoyance.

“I’m glad you think so.” Yarrow smiled politely. He wasn’t really sure what to do about receiving compliments for something he wasn’t confident with. “Can I see yours, Pine?”

Pine’s painting was indeed a portrait of Yarrow, but only in a loose sense. It was mostly planes of flat, vibrant color contrasted by sketchy black lines. It was striking and graphic. If someone saw it, they might not necessarily think it was him, but it was easy for him to tell considering Pine decided to highlight his forehead scar with a hot pink. It represented Yarrow in a way that felt more genuine that just a normal portrait.

“It’s very gestural.” Yarrow wasn’t really sure how to talk about art, but he heard that term in class before.

Apparently, Pine wasn’t very impressed. “If you don’t like it you can just say so, y’know.”

“I do like it, idiot.” Yarrow pouted and smacked their arm with the painting, leaving a streak of blue paint. “You’re too quick to assume what people think.”

“Damn, okay, just be careful with it!” Pine gingerly took the painting back. Moss tried to hold in their laughter at their bickering. They didn’t want to invoke Pine’s wrath if their giggling caused the painting to fall over once it was propped on their back again.

Yarrow wasn’t sure what to do now that his painting was… done? When was a painting done, really? If he wanted to he could just work on it forever, but he didn’t really know how to. It was mostly masses of color with the couple of details that he could remember. A photographic memory didn’t make him a master of rendering wood grain or leaves. Pine watched him stare sternly at the painting for a while before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“You need to sign it, kid.” Well, if Pine thought it was done then it probably was.

After a few moments of thought, Yarrow carefully placed a ‘1000’ in the corner of his painting. His first proper painting and perhaps not his last.