the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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Steve was doing this for Robin.
He had to keep telling himself this. He could get through the day, the weekend, life, if he just kept repeating this to himself.
But an hour into their day, his pants ripped.
Not in a place it can be hidden, not a small one.
Right along his ass.
And because Robin insisted he’d be fine, he didn’t bring a bag with a change of clothes.
He could buy some, sure, if he wanted to spend $60 on special convention sweatpants that would be entirely too hot, unflattering, and ruin the costume Robin insisted he wear to match hers.
He was hiding in the bathroom currently, furiously texting Robin to let her know he was just going to stay there until it was time to leave.
She’d be mad at him, but she’d be more mad at herself for not letting him bring a change of clothes.
His pants weren’t even tight. Luke Skywalker doesn’t exactly wear tight clothes. He had no reason behind the rip other than the universe just hating him as much as possible.
Robin told him she would find someone to help, whatever that means, but he didn’t think that was possible without just buying new pants.
He stood in the corner of the continuously crowded bathroom, trying not to draw attention, but knowing it was incredibly odd to just stand in the corner of a public bathroom.
Ten minutes passed and a guy walked in with a backpack and a sign that says “Free Cosplay Repair” and Steve knew what Robin had done.
The man was pretty, and not dressed up, but seemed like he wished he was. Maybe it was difficult to repair if he was wearing some elaborate costume.
Steve didn’t know how this worked.
“Are you Steve?”
Steve nodded.
His voice was calming, and Steve instantly trusted him to fix the problem.
“Heard you’ve got a bit of a problem with the costume. Big or small?”
“Uh. Pretty big, man.”
“Ah. Tear along the ass, then. Happens all the time.”
He set his backpack down and started rummaging through the front pocket. When he pulled out a sewing kit, Steve realized he was going to have to get this fixed in a public bathroom with this very attractive man staring at and touching his ass for who knows how long.
“Um.”
“It’ll be better if you can take them off. I’ll be able to sew it much faster.”
Steve couldn’t just stand around in his boxers. That was not part of the plan or the agreement with Robin. People were coming and going from the bathroom at a rapid rate.
“Is there somewhere private we can go?”
“Awww, Stevie, feeling shy?”
Steve’s face was beet red. He was feeling a little shy, and being called out on it by a hot guy kind of made him think about being called out on other things in other ways and his brain was not doing well.
“My name’s Eddie. I come with my friend Chrissy to a bunch of these every year. We have a tent set up on the show floor for privacy, but you’d have to walk to it. I could walk behind you if you want?”
“Oh. Okay. Um. Sure.”
It was better than standing half naked in this bathroom.
So they left, and Eddie stayed right behind him, covering him from possible exposure to the growing crowd.
He would lean forward and direct him to the tent every few seconds, leaving goosebumps behind from how close he got to his ear to be heard.
When they arrived, Chrissy was finishing up with supergluing something to a mask. Eddie touched her shoulder and whispered something to her. She rolled her eyes and smiled at him before turning back to the person she was helping.
Eddie nudged Steve into their tent.
“Alright, shouldn’t take too long. Take them off, Luke.”
Steve rolled his eyes but followed directions. The faster this was done, the faster he could get back to Robin, who was probably so deep into the crowd by now that he’d never find her anyways.
Maybe he should just stay here. Learn to sew. Become a part of their traveling repair team.
They seemed nice enough.
Eddie got started immediately, and Steve was grateful for the privacy the tent provided. He sat down on a stool they had set up in the corner and put his hands in his lap, covering as much of himself as he could. He was definitely not confident in this place.
He’d embraced that he liked some nerdy things. He was fine with it.
But he was way out of his element here.
“You come to these a lot?”
“No. Just supporting my friend.”
“Explains not being as prepared as the pros.”
“I did try to be. My friend said I’d be fine. Don’t know why I listened to her.”
Eddie snorted. “She a friend or a…friend?”
Steve laughed so loudly, Eddie jumped. “Sorry. She’s very much not straight and I am very much not interested.”
“Is she Leia?”
“Yeah.”
“Everyone will assume you’re together, you know?”
“Yeah, well. She said I had to and I owed her.”
“Must’ve done you a big favor.”
“You could say that.”
Eddie’s hands were moving quickly, and Steve couldn’t help watching in amazement.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“What? Sewing? Or conventions?”
“Both.”
Eddie smiled while he worked.
“Sewing since I was 11. I was in charge of fixing my and my uncle’s clothes since we couldn’t really afford new ones unless I outgrew them. Then in high school I did costumes for drama and cheerleaders. That’s how I met Chrissy. She was a secret nerd so she took me to a convention and I saw too many people crying over broken and torn cosplays so I started doing this.”
“For free?”
“Yeah. I already had most of the supplies on hand and I’m not using them all so why not?”
“That’s really…kind.”
He saw Eddie’s cheeks blush, but he didn’t comment.
Maybe he’d gain some upper hand here despite being half naked in a tent with a stranger.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It kind of is, man. Just take the compliment. It’s really selfless.”
“Okay. Yeah. I guess. Thanks.”
They settled into a comfortable silence and Steve really took in the tent. There were things hanging up that he vaguely recognized as D&D monsters from Dustin’s room.
“Hey, the kid I babysit is into that.”
“What?”
“The dungeons game.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! I think he even has that exact print in his room.”
“No shit? I made these. I have an Etsy shop.”
“You’re kidding. He’s gonna freak out that I met you.”
“Well, shit. Take one for him.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Yeah you could. I’m not letting you leave until you do.”
Steve felt his heart flutter.
Dustin was like his little brother and he loved him so much. Any time someone did something kind for him, it melted his heart.
He didn’t have time for feelings for a stranger.
Not at a convention where he was the outcast.
“I guess if you insist.”
“I do.”
Steve was a fucking mess. Emotionally, he was the type to get really attached really quickly. It’s why all of his relationships ended within weeks. He was ready to be completely committed and they never were. He fell hard and fast for anyone who showed him even a tiny bit of interest.
He had to get out of this tent.
“I’m not rushing you, but how much longer?”
“I’m almost done. Few more minutes. Doing okay?”
“Yeah. Just wanna find Robin.”
“Text her to meet you here. She knows where it is.”
“How would she know that?”
“I’ve met her a few times at other conventions and she always stops by to say hello.”
Robin knew this guy?
Suddenly, he realized what was going on.
She was setting him up.
“Take your time. She can wait.”
Eddie slowed his hands and looked up at Steve.
“Uh. Okay.”
“She’s a traitor who did this to me on purpose.”
“Ripped your pants?”
“Yes.”
Eddie stopped what he was doing completely.
“She ripped your pants on purpose? How would she have done that?”
“She pulled a seam out or something.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s trying to set us up.”
“Us?!”
“Yep. Sorry. I promise I don’t expect anything. She just does this sometimes. Thinks I’m lonely or whatever.”
Eddie searched his face for a minute, then looked back down at his work.
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Lonely.”
Well, yeah. Robin didn’t get the assumption from nowhere. But he didn’t really want to admit that to a stranger.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Apparently, he was going to anyways.
“Hm.”
“Hm?”
“Mhm.”
Steve huffed out a breath.
Eddie stood suddenly and came over to Steve, pushing his shoulder back and his legs apart so he could fit between them.
Eddie’s hand cupped his chin, pulling it up so he could look at him.
Steve gulped.
He was feeling more than vulnerable at this point and wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Your friend must really love you to want to make sure you aren’t lonely.”
“Um. Yeah.”
“You know, I’m taking a lunch break in about an hour if you wanna hang around. I could use some company.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. One condition though.”
“What’s that?”
“You take the pants off again.”
Steve laughed and Eddie couldn’t help the smile he aimed down at him.
“You want me to eat in just my boxers?”
“Well, not just your boxers. That’ll be later at the hotel.”
God, this guy was good. Smoother than Steve’s ever been and he was known for his charming nature for years.
“You think I’ll come back to your hotel?”
“I know you will.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I only temporarily fixed these pants. The stuff you need is back at my room.”
“What if I don’t care about the pants?”
“All the more reason to leave them off when you come to my room.”
They smiled at each other.
Steve felt brave. He felt a little ridiculous. Most of all, he felt like he couldn’t pass up the opportunity literally staring him in the face.
He leaned up a bit more and waited for Eddie to lean down.
When their lips met, Steve knew he was completely fucked.
Robin had fucked him over and he’d never been so grateful.
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