Abstracting Our World (England x Reader)

            “Why do you like painting so much?”

            That should have been easy to answer. Yet I’ve always had trouble answering such. Maybe it was the way I could paint whatever my imagination comes up with? No, that doesn’t sound right. Or was it the way I could paint without any restrictions whatsoever? Well, whatever the reason is, I’ll just keep painting until I figure it out.

            A sigh escaped my parted lips. It was just one of those days where I couldn’t get any work done. So here I am, walking through the streets of London, England. Luckily it wasn’t raining. I wasn’t quite prepared for the rain... I let my legs direct me to wherever they took me. I felt myself wander, turning this way and that. While I kept my head down, hands in my pockets.

            Soon, I found myself nearing a bench. Setting my painting tools down on it, I sat soon afterwards. Looking at my surroundings, I finally realize where I was. Two red seesaws sat in a corner, moving only slightly because of the wind. Three sets of swings stand beside a play structure, the sun shining brightly against it. There were trees rustling all around the playground. It became quite obvious that I was at a park. ‘A vacant park, no one else is here but me,’ I mused. Then it hit me, inspiration.

            A content sigh escaped my lips as I assessed my artwork. It wasn’t too bad, at least-

            “That’s magnificent.”

            I practically jumped out of my seat with a loud gasp, dropping my paintbrush in the process. “Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

            I took a closer look at who happened to approach me. It was a man who looked to be close to the same age as I, if not only a little older. He had short, messy blonde hair and emerald eyes that seemed to shine with amusement. He also had bushy eyebrows. Frankly, he took my breath away.

            Snapping out of my daze, I quickly picked up the fallen paintbrush. I was tongue-tied. “O-oh no, I-I wasn’t aware that someone else w-was here.” I could tell I was blushing, but I could have sworn he smiled.

            “If I may ask, what’s your name, love?”

            “Shouldn’t you give your name first? It’s only polite.”

            We both gave a chuckle as we exchanged names.

            Why do I like painting so much? It’s because of the people I meet, and the beautiful scenery I get to see.