Chapter Text
Smitten.
Edgar Valden was smitten.
It had been what, 2? 5 years? He didn’t know anymore. It had been a really long time since he’d broken off with his last partner–a dashing young composer who was always so passionate about everything he did. They lasted a long time, probably as long as his hiatus from dating, but their life directions just didn’t match anymore and Edgar had to leave.
It was a devastating loss, one that left Edgar “waiting” for the perfect moment to open up to someone again but the day never came.
Until one specific Sunday, April second at exactly 3:14 in the afternoon (he didn’t note that down), that things changed for him.
The feeling of someone watching him became so strong that he looked behind him and saw three children who could not be older than eight crowding and watching him and the canvas in front of him. The children looked wide-eyed with amazement, waiting for him to do the next stroke with his paintbrush.
It wasn’t rare for children to watch performances such as painting in the park, but Edgar rarely painted in the park at all so it was a new experience for him. He never really did live paintings even as a gig and it was only ever Ella and Maple who watched him paint, but now he had an audience. The audience consisted of small people whose pants and shorts were decorated with blades of grass, people who probably didn’t know how much the painting was going to cost after everything.
Edgar gave a small wave to the children which instantly got reactions of wave backs and a plethora of questions from their curious minds. Edgar didn’t exactly get along well with children that are not his family, so entertaining these ones was out of the question. And besies, he was working on a new piece and needed inspiration, that being the reason why he was outside and not holed up in his studio.
“Mister, what are you drawing?” one of the kids asked, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view of the canvas and less of Edgar’s back.
“The park,” Edgar answered, “Did your toy get stuck somewhere around here?”
The children shook their heads no. “We just wanted to watch!” the shortest told him with a big grin on her face.
“Well…” Edgar paused, turning back to the sketch that was only starting to come together, “Just don’t come near the canvas.”
The three nodded their heads, keeping a good distance from the painter and his craft. The children were quiet for a while, content with standing there and just watching. However, since they were children, they were still victims to a lot of things that Edgar was afraid they would be, the first one being curiosity.
“Mister, are you almost done?” One of the kids asked.
“Ooh! Can I take a picture?” The jollier one among the three asked.
Edgar looked at his painting that was barely resembling a thought before shrugging. “I guess?”
The child then started to take photos with her fingers, acting as if she was holding a camera with her hand. She even made little noises of the shutter going off like it was really going to make her have a copy of the view.
“One more with the artist!” She grinned, gesturing to Edgar to come closer to the canvas.
Edgar raised a brow questioningly but did as she said anyways. He stood next to the nearly blank canvas, posing awkwardly as the children cheered and told him to do some poses.
“Last one!” The photographer called before another person’s voice rang loudly in their ears.
Before Edgar could even comprehend what he was trying to say, his eyes had already been captivated. The young man was most likely his age, possibly one or two years older or younger. He was already sweating from running, some strands of his hair clinging to his forehead. He wasn’t really in the best shape or appearance right now, but Edgar’s eyes had always been attracted to beauty and this was, indeed, beauty.
“Amelia Claire Balsa, what did I tell you about running off?!”
A man came running to the three girls hurriedly, already looking tired, possibly from looking all over the park. He grabbed the photographer’s arm, turning her towards him and taking all attention away from the canvas and painter.
“I told you three to stay where I can see you, didn’t I?” The man sighed exasperatedly, “I just looked away for one second because you said you wanted juice and then you were gone. What if something bad happened?”
The three girls looked down, muttering apologies. Amelia, the kid in question, looked up at the man and pouted, “I’m sorry papa. We just saw a trail of butterflies and followed it here.”
The man sighed again, letting go of the kid but not before placing a kiss on her forehead. “Stop running off, alright?”
He finally took notice of the painter standing awkwardly in the midst of everything.
“I’m really sorry for these three. Did they bother you?” He asked, walking closer with the three following his footsteps.
“Not really,” Edgar replied, “They were safe and quiet here, don’t worry. Not one sketchy person comes around in this part of the town.”
“Oh thank goodness.” The man smiled at the assurance, “We just moved a month ago so I don’t know much about the places here.”
Edgar nodded, understanding the worry. “These three yours?”
“Just Lia,” the man replied, gesturing to the photographer from earlier, “These two are Camille and Renee, her classmates.”
“Ah.”
A father, of course, Edgar. He’s too charming to not be one. Although a bit young…
“Edgar.” He reached his hand out, letting himself be the first one to introduce.
“Ah, I’m Luca,” the man replied, shaking Edgar’s hand, “I truly am sorry if they did anything to bother you.”
“No worries, I had my fair share of kids in my life too,” Edgar replied.
Luca’s eyes lit up, “You’re a dad too?”
Edgar shook his head no, “I’m an older brother to twins, two girls. I practically raised them. They loved this park so much all those years back and nothing bad ever happened to them here.”
“That’s good to hear.” Luca nodded, “Well, we better get going. Almost time to start dinner.”
“It’s barely four,” Edgar pointed out.
“Let’s just say that Lia’s in a phase where she’s indecisive on what to eat,” Luca explained.
Edgar gave a light laugh, “Definitely one of the bad phases. You and the wife must be exhausted.”
“There’s…” Luca cleared his throat, “There’s actually no wife in the picture. But I’m glad to see that you’re understanding what I’m going through.”
Oh?
“Papa,” Lia whispered, tugging at her father’s shirt, “Can I take a picture of the drawing?”
Edgar gestured to the canvas, “Be my guest.”
Luca nodded at Amelia, handing her his phone. The girl quickly took real photos of the canvas, one close up, one from far back, and of course, one with its painter.
“Thank you, mister!” Lia smiled as if she wasn’t going to get the inevitable scolding once they got home.
Luca told the girls to wave goodbye to the painter which the painter gave back with a small smile. It wasn’t until Edgar was back in the silence and solitude that he noticed his one mistake of the day.
He didn’t take Luca’s phone number.
Luca was going on and on about how the three girls should stop running off and giving him a scare almost every time they went out. Once he was tired and out of words, he had noticed that they were back home where the cars of the parents of the two other children were waiting to pick them up. Their mothers were standing at the side of the street, chatting with each other when they saw their kids get out of Luca’s car.
“Did you have a fun time at the park?” Camille’s mother asked.
“We saw a painter!” Camille told stories to her mother excitedly, the same with Renee. “And a lot of butterflies!”
Luca and Amelia started heading inside after they said their goodbyes. Luca directed his way to their sofa, breathing out deeply while Amelia headed to the kitchen.
“Don’t touch the cake,” Luca warned, “That’s for dessert.”
“I won’t!” Amelia’s voice came from the kitchen together with the sound of the fridge opening.
“Amelia, I said don’t,” Luca said after a moment of silence.
“Just a tiny bit?” Amelia asked and Luca can already imagine her pout.
Luca sighed, “No tiny bit. We’re having it later after dinner. You need to start deciding on dinner.”
“Can cake be dinner?”
“No.”
Another groan came from the little girl before she settled on just getting a cold bottle of water, holding on to her father’s promise that cake would be for later.
Luca fished his phone out from his pocket, the first thing popping up was the last photo that Amelia had taken. The painter had an awkward smile while standing next to his artwork. Luca let out a chuckle, but liked the small smile that the painter offered. He had to admit, the painter was a charming young man. Pretty face with a good aura was always a great combination.
“Papa, is there something funny?” Amelia was standing in front of him with a glass of water and some frosting at the corner of her lips.
“Hm?”
“You were smiling,” the child pointed out.
“I was?” Luca asked, putting his phone face down on the sofa. He wiped the smudge of chocolate frosting from his daughter’s lips, keeping the smile he apparently had on. “And I told you no cake, didn’t I?”
So maybe Luca was a little bit smitten on that day too.