Chapter 2

"Is that paint on your finger, dude?" Nathan said, attempting to grab Frank's forefinger, which was undoubtedly stained from pressing the spray can, fucking shit took years to wash off.

Frank pulled his finger back on reflex, and Nathan stared at him with his brow furrowed. Shit, he had to come up with an excuse, and quick. Although Nathan was his friend, he couldn't know Frank tagged— well, couldn't is a strong word, more like Frank really didn't feel like telling him.

He liked that tagging was like his secret, a secret he only shared with Octavia and Pencil, and himself.

When Frank still wasn't answering, Nathan pushed, "Your whole shirt is stained with green,"

"Uh, yeah, I was finishing an art project the other day, stained myself," Frank shrugged, hoping it would be enough, and then filling his mouth with a huge turkey sandwich bite, as if to avoid further talking.

"Is that why you look like you haven't slept in forty years?"

Perfect excuse, thank you, Nathan. Frank nodded, "Yeah, it was like real last minute, so I finished it at like six in the morning and didn't even have time to sleep, that's why these are the same clothes as yesterday," He motioned to his outfit, and Nathan seemed satisfied with the answer, digging into his own plate of spaghetti.

It wasn't like Frank didn't like Nathan; they wouldn't be friends if that was the case. Actually, Frank didn't necessarily have a group of friends; he just kinda had well-known people all around school, so he had someone to talk in like every class and not feel like a complete loser.

Nathan was the one he talked to the most, him and his girlfriend, Delilah, and he often sat with them in lunch, like right then. Although Delilah hadn't bothered showing up to school, so it was just him and Nathan.

So yeah, Frank's only real friends didn't go to his school, and they were only two. As for the kids at school, Frank only talked to them in there, in classes, as soon as he stepped foot outside of the lot, he really didn't feel like chatting to any of them.

He didn't think he was superior or that they were idiots or anything like that, he enjoyed their company at school, but that was it... Just at school.

If he ran into someone outside the building, of course he'd go say hi, he wasn't a douche, but he honestly preferred not to have any contact with any of them, even if his mom called him anti-social. He was fine with it, really. Despite not having many actual friends, Frank was still deathly scared of any of the people at his school finding out he tagged.

Because that would lead to parents finding out, and the school finding out, and his own parents finding out, and the answer to that equation meant nothing good.

Perhaps that's why Frank kept mostly to himself outside school besides his two friends. He loved tagging, and it wasn't easy to not blurt it out, because he was good at it too, and he wanted to brag, he wanted to tell Nathan 'Hey, you know that fucking tank with a skeleton in it at the Highglass Building? Yeah, guess who did it, motherfucker. Me'; have everyone in his school in awe, and he wanted to be called 'Frank the Tagger', he wanted to be called a 'Banksy wannabe'.

Because if it meant people would recognize his art, he'd do it.

But then again, his mom, the cops, all the shit unknown taggers had to deal with day to day. He couldn't just confess that he was the maker of most of the street art in the city.

Besides, if he spoke up, people would know Pencil and Octavia were in it too, and she would most likely go to jail, because she was nineteen –a legal adult- and tagging was considered a crime. If Octavia went to jail, Frank would no longer have half-the-price tattoos, duh.

Octavia was a tattoo artist apprentice, she worked at a small ink shop around her block, but she loved tattooing, and would do it on anyone who would let her. In fact, she had done most of her own tattoos herself, including that rad octopus tattoo on her thigh; her motto was basically 'if I can reach it, I'll do it'. So Frank got half the price on tattoos, which he wasn't even allowed to have in the first place, since he was still seventeen and shit.

'Shit' being his parents, who would never give him permission.

I guess Frank's tattoo addiction went hand-in-hand with tagging, since it was the art he was in love with, and although tattoos were a bit more permanent than tags (especially since the town decided to cover up every single piece of art they did within a few days of it being finished), Frank adored both equally.

But he still had to hide them from his parents, so all he had were a few pieces around his calves/thighs, a relatively small one above his nipple and a New Jersey one on his arm, and he really wanted a couple of birds resting low on his hips, but that would be way more visible than the shit he already had. It would be only a few months until he turned eighteen though, but if his parents did ever find out about his ink, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it except scold him, since they were already done and very permanent.

The bell interrupted his thoughts, signaling lunch period was over and that they were to head to class. Nathan and Frank throw the rest of their food away and walk into the school building, then separate as they head to different classes.

The rest of school flew by uneventfully, and as soon as the last bell echoed through the hallways and classrooms, Frank quickly walked out of the lot, headed to Octavia's, where they were supposed to hang out and scope out Belleville for a new wall to tag together with Pencil. When he finally reached the gates of the school, he lit up a cigarette, relieving the stress from his classes and teachers, pushing his new homework to the back of his mind and instead focusing on reaching Octavia's apartment as quick as possible without having to talk to anyone on his way.

The walk is quite long, but Frank is used to it. He smokes three cigarettes on the way to her street, and crushed his last one against the floor with his foot when he gets there.

Pencil's school ended like two hours before Frank's, so it wasn't a surprise to see his bike locked to a nearby light post. Ending two hours earlier also meant it started two hours earlier, and Frank felt the guilt prodding his mind when he was reminded he made Pencil drive out to pick him up, meaning he only for two or three hours of sleep. But then again, Pencil had already been awake when Frank called, so it wasn't entirely his fault.

Frank pressed the doorbell of apartment '7B', where Octavia lived, and waited for her to answer the little receiver they had.

"Yeah?"

"'Tavia, it's Ghoul," He said, and the receiver goes silent before a small buzzing sound lets him know he can push the front door open. Entering the building, Frank tugged the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder as it was falling down, and called the elevator. It took everything in him not to light his fourth fag, but he was trying to not smoke as much, and he was sure he'd set off a few fire alarms. The building had about fifteen floors, and the lift stopped at the third for some reason, since no one got on or was waiting for the elevator.

While inside, Frank checked himself on the mirrors, using his hand to flatten the front of his hair and that one strand that seemed to defy gravity by sticking up as high as it could. What the fuck, hair.

Frank knew Octavia always left her front door open, so when he reached the seventh floor, he leisurely walked to B, throwing the door wide open and screaming into the flat: "I'm home!" Not getting anything close to a reply. He shrugged off his jacket and discarded it on top of the coat hanger Octavia kept, as well as shrugging off his backpack and leaving it in a heap on the floor, but making sure it was out of the way.

Octavia's house was like a second home to him, and he'd say his first home since he felt way more comfortable in this place than in his own house, where his parents constantly nagged him and he wasn't even allowed to eat before his homework was finished or leave his school bag on the floor like he had just done. But he couldn't live with Octavia, since a) he was still a minor and therefore stayed with his parents and b) Octavia already had a roommate.

The girl was named Kwanza, and was a beautiful African-American girl with incredible hair and who always wore cute dresses and flats. Frank didn't even know how two polar opposites like them became friends, since Kwanza was shy and the most gentle person Frank had ever met, whilst Octavia was loud and tough, with her bright colored hair she always seemed to be dyeing over and her Latina complexion.

Kwanza was never really around when him and Pencil where, though they all got along pretty well, and even if they didn't really hang out with her, she was chill and fun to be around.

Frank guessed Octavia preferred to invite them over when Kwanza wasn't home, but mostly because they had to discuss tagging things and didn't want Kwanza to find out. But when it was any other hang out, they did chat with her when she was around. Though most of the time she was studying or at a friend's or at the library or in class, so they saw her like once or twice per month. Frank didn't know what Kwanza was studying, but he was pretty sure it was something big, because she was really smart and always proved her point in the interesting debates sometimes surged between the friends.

So he wasn't surprised when he entered the living room and only found Octavia and Pencil sitting on the couch, no sight of Kwanza.

"'Sup," Frank nodded towards them.

"Hey, Ghoul," Pencil replied, whilst Frank dropped himself on the bean bag chair propped next to the coffee table. All in all, Octavia and Kwanza's apartment was really nice-looking, and he guessed that was all Kwanza's work.

"So, Pencil here's been telling me you tagged yesterday?" Octavia raised an eyebrow towards him, leaning on her forearms over the armrest of the sofa and wearing a sly smile. "And almost got caught by the cops you dumbass, pics or it didn't happen,"

Frank chuckled, fishing out his iPhone from his pocket and unlocking it to show Octavia some pictures of the art he had made, passing her the phone and watching her swipe to the right to view more.

"Nice, nice,"

"Why thank you. No Kwanza today?" Frank said, accepting his phone back and leaving it on the table as he scratched his chin and propped his elbows on his knees.

"Nah, some studying or whatever, she said she didn't want to interrupt us or something. By the way, I recall we have some tagging to discuss? I think Sunday's gonna be best, it's only four days away and you know cops are laid back on Sundays," Octavia said to both her friends, and then pulled out her phone, furiously typing something and waiting for it to load, which turned out to be a small map of a tiny portion of Belleville. "So there's these new containers that were dropped off like a few days ago, which means they won't be moving for at least some weeks, and that gives us enough time to work on a piece. I took the liberty of making a few rough sketches, but we can do anything you guys want,"

She grinned, scattering a few papers with pencil sketches drawn on them. "Nice work, dude," Frank smirked, giving her a high five as Pencil and him scanned the drawings, talking about which one they liked the best and which one the least, as well as offering more ideas.

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fun fact: nathan went through many names bc after i wrote these i met people named what his former names were and had to change it.

pls share the story if u like it !!
i send love and shitty smut
-blue