Chapter Text
Neil’s morning started as it often did. He woke well before the sun and set off on his usual morning run, looping wide before coming back to his apartment where he showered, dressed, made a cup of coffee and walked out the door, locking it behind him. Neil’s shop was small, just big enough for a small shop front and small ceramics studio in back. It was supposed to be an office and larger storage room. Neil had kept the office, but shoved a poetry wheel, a kiln, and several drying shelves for his work. The shop served as a way of riding his storage of the many, many projects that he made. Neil had tried almost every form of art, both 2D and 3D. His store was mostly the ceramics and prints of his 2D works that he sold for a very reasonable price, only the amount of money necessary to run the store and buy the supplies to make more pieces. Neil didn’t need any more money.
His father was a successful business man before he was a cold blooded killer. He was also a smart enough man to not mix his dirty money or murder with his day job. The businesses that had survived the investigation were still running, and due to some interference, Neil was the recipient of their profits. He was sitting on a very large amount of money that he would probably never be able to burn through.
Neil twisted the key in the lock and heard the usual click of the lock turning before gently pushing open the back door and flicking on the light switches. The ceiling lights lit up in time, bathing the store in artificial light. The sun was barely beginning to creep over the horizon line. From there, Neil began his usual opening routine.
Neil sorted through his shelves of completed ceramics deciding what pieces to display for the day. He would most likely have to restock front at least once before the end of the day. He picked up his latest completed set of bowls, fired in his favorite green/brown glaze, and placed them gently on the rolling cart he pushed along with him. He continued until he thought he had a good amount of stock to place up front before pushing the cart back through the door and moving to his current projects.
Drying out ceramics is a multi-step slow process. Several pieces were at different stages, and Neil had to uncover and move all of them each day. He uncovered one section, removed the moist paper towels from the next, and loosened the bags of others. He would have to go through some of them later to trim, install handles, or put them out to fire.
After Neil had displayed his chosen ceramics, restocked the piles of prints, and dusted the rest of the displays, it was time for him to unlock his door, flip the open sign and wait for customers or Matt to show up.
Neil enjoyed working the front of his shop, he enjoyed the way people’s faces would change when they viewed his creations, he enjoyed sitting and drawing and watching. Originally, when Neil opened the shop he would work the counter all day, and spend several evenings into late nights working in his studio in the back. He would come back to his apartment too exhausted to do anything other than shower and pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. As unhealthy as it sounds, it worked for him, and it helped him survive.
Matt came along looking for a job to occupy his day. He didn’t work the most consistent schedule, but it helped Neil enough that he could regularly pack his online orders and spend many hours in his studio. He was a surprisingly gentle guy for how large he was, with his brazen spiky hair and his muscular arms. Neil liked him, even if he refused to admit it.
After Matt, Nicky was pulled onto the team, looking for a job to earn some extra money. His marketing degree was useful when handling both the shop and the online store. He was an energetic and noisy guy who was far too interested in Neil’s personal life, but he brought a certain amount of energy to the store, whether he was discussing dinner plates with an elderly woman, or recommending a vase to a young man.
They worked well together, and Neil enjoyed having both the help and the company, but he would never admit that to either one of them. Nicky would never let it go.
Matt walked in through the back door a few minutes before he was scheduled to start and waved at Neil with a large smile on his face.
“Morning Neil!” He greeted, “What's on the ‘To Do’ today?”
“Not much. I have some projects to finish up. Are you okay at the counter for a few hours? I’ll take over for your lunch.” Neil replied, pushing off the stool and scooping up the sketchpad he had been hunched over.
“Sounds like a plan, man, I’ll holler if I need something.” Mat replied and Neil stepped around him to enter the studio.
He got to work loading the kiln with a bisque fire and glazing the new mugs he had pulled from the kiln three days prior. They were large mugs with square handles and different designs carved from the surface. Neil had thought up the design on a slow day when he needed something to do with his hands. Time passed as Neil worked as soon Matt was knocking on the studio door and announcing that it was time for lunch.
“Neil, it's twelve, time to take a breather.” He called and Neil stood from his work table and smiled at Matt as the man took off for his lunch break. He was probably going to the cafe down the street, it seemed to be a favorite of his.
The bell on the front door jingled as the front door opened. Renee walked through the door with someone Neil had never seen before just behind her.
“Neil! How are you?” Renee greeted him with her usual bright smile. When Neil had first met her, he was unsure on what to think of her. Her white hair with rainbow tips and cross jewelry threw him through a loop. But she was kind and she owned and operated the antique store down the street, so he saw her around quite often. She was a regular at his store, who loved to buy homemade gifts for her loved ones.
“Hello Renee, I’m doing fine. You?” He replied in a softer tone. Neil was not a soft person. Matt and Nicky often teased him for being prickly and antisocial, but he made an effort for people that could be considered saints, like Renee.
“Wonderful, thank you. I wanted to show Andrew your shop, since he enjoyed his gift that I purchased from here.” Renee replied. Neil flicked his eyes to Renee’s shadow. He was short, shorter than Neil with pale skin and pale hair. Andrew had an intensely blank look on his face. Neil nodded.
“Well, you know your way around pretty well, unless you want a tour of the back. Let me know if you need anything!” Neil said, returning his attention to the sketch in front of him. He listened to Renee shuffle around the store and point things out to Andrew as she moved along. Neil tried his best to focus on his sketch, not wanting to make either uncomfortable if he was caught staring. Their hushed voices carried in the small store. Another customer came to the desk to purchase some items, and that temporarily distracted Neil from the two.
As Neil was thanking the lady for her purchase, Renee and Andrew appeared in front of the desk. Andrew held onto a print. It was an old one, the third official painting Neil had ever done. He placed it on the desk, and pulled out his wallet.
“Do you know the original artist?” Andrew asked, speaking for the first time.
“All of the prints sold in this store are works painted by me.” Neil replied. Andrew’s face morphed into an expression that Neil couldn’t quite decipher. He gave Andrew his total and brushed off the encounter as he paid and the pair left, Renee wishing him a good evening and declaring that she would see him around.
Matt came back from his lunch a while later and Neil disappeared into the studio for the rest of the day. He closed up shop by himself later that night and headed back to his apartment.
The studio apartment that Neil had been occupying over the last several years would be described as a desolate place if anyone ever stepped foot through the front door. The one room apartment was sparsely furnished. His bed consisted of a mattress thrown into the corner of the room, perpendicular to the wall that held the entrance to the rundown city apartment. A few worn blankets and a flattened pillow sat atop the bed. He had a small kitchen area in the adjacent corner. The counter displayed several coffee mugs with varying amounts of old coffee settling at the bottom and a definite stack of dishes to be cleaned.
A small bathroom that sat to the right of the front door. The wall opposite of the front door housed two windows, big enough for Neil to open and crawl out of. The view of the city was a breathtaking comfort, sitting on the other side of each glass plane. The room was relatively neatly kept, all except for the final corner, which was dedicated to Neil’s art.
His wooden easel, several finished works, half finished pieces, and empty canvases were propped up against each other or against the wall. Neil’s wooden stool that he bought from Renee’s antique shop just down the block, sat in the center of the mess. A few small wobbly tables were placed within arms reach of the stool. Tubes of oil paint, brushes, and mediums were scattered about from Neil’s last session.
Neil had been living in the city for a little over five years. He hardly ventured out of his apartment except for his early morning run, grocery or supply run, to his store, and occasional trip to get a coffee from the cafe next to the antique store. It was a simple, somewhat lonely life, but that was not new for Neil. The years after his mother’s death passed in a painful grey blur, brought slightly into focus with his art, and his routine.
His uncle had helped him get settled after the FBI had released Neil from witness protection following the death of the last of Nathan’s henchmen. He paid Neil’s rent, made sure that all of Nathan’s inheritance flowed to Neil so he could spend it in whatever way he felt necessary, and live a comfortable life. He had tried to push Neil into getting a better apartment, not fully understanding that the one room apartment was a luxury in itself. Neil and his mother had slept in decrepit hotels, broke into the backseats of cars, and slept in turns on public transportation. Neil had a bed, a kitchen, and a studio space and that was all he needed.
Neil enjoyed the small space. He had all he needed.
When Neil had first moved to the city, he worked on whatever hobby he could find, until he discovered his enjoyment and skill with painting and ceramics. It was accidental. He stumbled into a studio, on the other side of town, that was offering lessons on different art mediums. Neil took the classes and visited the studio several more times the months following. He had completed several paintings and sculptures and the owner of the studio had encouraged him to enter them into an art show. Her name was Abby, and she promised to handle everything for him after he expressed his reluctance, not quite comfortable with putting his work out there.
Abby entered his works as an anonymous entry and set it up for him. Neil was given the address and told to visit the show under the guise of being a college student interested in art.
Neil ended up at the show, sitting on a bench near his paintings for an hour, observing the people at the show. It was the reason he was confident enough to open a business and sell his work. Thinking about the reactions to his art brought a fierce blush to his face to this day, four years later.
He didn’t have the opportunity to thank Abby for what she had done. He picked his works up from the studio after the art show and never returned.
Neil pushed open his front door and took a deep breath as he stepped inside. Neil dropped his bag next to his front door, slipped off his shoes and walked further into his home. He emptied his pockets onto his counter and started his night routine, too tired to do much other than get ready for bed.