Ryan appears around 6pm, soaked to the bone from the icy autumn storm. Raindrops drip down the tip of his nose as I usher him into the warmth of the hallway. As he removes his hoody I dash into the kitchen to grab a clean towel for him but when I greet him again it becomes pretty obvious that we need more than just one scabby towel. A clean jumper and pair of joggies follow. Indy shadows Ryan curiously, purring as he pads along behind the American.

Once Ryan returns from the bathroom with his new attire we spread out the new sketchbooks on the bare floorboards of the living room and get to work. We start off with mindmaps, each of us recording the discussion in the pages, noting down different types of pollution and the causes, then move onto solutions, finally getting to the fun part: our project ideas.

“Well the one I’ve been toying with,” I explain, “is a phone app.” Ryan takes a quick note of that and glances up at me, his eyes glistening with an eagerness to hear more. “I was thinking like instead of having just a pure information based app that it could be like…a game or something more interactive. Maybe aim it at kids, have a fish or something as the main character. We could have his home suffering the effects of water pollution and each level of the game you have to save one of his friends or something like that.”

Ryan’s attention turns back to his sketchbook but before he writes anything else down he begins to chew on his pencil attentively, “How do we make it fresh?”

“What do you mean?” I ask him with a frown. A smile touches his lips as our eyes meet.

“Well think about it. Our target audience is kids, right? If we go with a game?” I nod. “So how do we get it to them? How do they access it?” He sits up, scratching his chin with the pencil end. I give a quiet sigh as my eyes begin to wander the room, thinking of answers. They travel from the secondhand leather sofa - not entirely beaten up but obviously weathered - the half painted walls blossoming into the magnolia I’d chosen to try to brighten the place up but then gave up half way through. I spent most of my time in my bedroom so the living’s room decorating was something of a work in progress - it was the only room left unfinished.

Suddenly it dawns on me - the answer I had earlier today. “Well most kids nowadays have phones so -”

“I’m talking kindergarten kids. They don’t have smart phones. They have toy phones. So how do they access our app?”

“Their parents.”

“Or it could be some kind of school programme where it’s included as a fun way for kids to learn about the environment as part of their curriculum.” Ryan’s baby blues fall to his sketchbook again. His head tilts, lips pouting as he thinks about the idea some more. I’m surprised by the level of thought he’s putting behind this project - I thought a phone app would have been fine but he’s going in depth. He clears his throat before speaking again, “how do we make it more appealing than any competition we’ll face?” His eyes raise to meet me again and my blank stare tells him all he needs to know. That familiar grin I was starting to grow fond of spreads across his freckled face again as he chuckles, “you haven’t thought this through at all, have you?”

I shrug, “it was the first thing that popped into my head.”

“And the heads of all our classmates too, no doubt,” his smile fades and he lets out a sigh, beginning to doodle in the corner of his sketchbook. “Nah,” he tells me, “let’s go in a different direction.” Some arrows form on his page - they branch out into the other corners and he scribbles down some quick thoughts before that smile returns. “I’m an artist. You’re a photographer. Let’s play to our strengths. We’re not able to create an app.” The pencil rests on his page with a soft thunk as he runs both hands through his hair. His gaze wanders to the ceiling before he closes his eyes, releasing his hair, then he pulls the fabric of the jumper down so his skinny fingers disappear into the sleeves. He begin to tap at his lips in thought with his left sleeve. “I mean, sure we can design it and concept art it but we can’t code it. We can’t make it into a viable product.”

I shake my head in disagreement, “it doesn’t have to be a finished product though. It’s just a college project.”

“Yeah but you seem like me judging from the way you talk about college. You get excited for assessments and challenges. Therefore, I know you wanna stand out and go the extra mile.” He grabs his pencil again enthusiastically and begins tapping the tip of his nose with it, “Why walk in with ideas when we can walk in with something solid? Something our lecturers can hold in their hands and think wow? We’re capable of great things individually so imagine what we can do together.”

So what can we do then? My mind begins to run riot - recycling, upcycling, upcycling festivals and craft fares, recycled plastic bottle lamps and eco friendly stationary. Where the fuck were all these ideas earlier when I was alone? Maybe Ryan’s right about us being together?

We stare at each other for a few moments in the dim living room light, gazing into each other’s eyes. All I see in Ryan is hope and inspiration. His eyes radiate with an infectious creative energy that I’ve never seen before, not even in Adriano. He’s contagious. Already, a stream of creativity begins flowing in me that had been blocked off earlier. Even with the dull shadows strewn across his face, he shines. His smile morphs into a laugh as he tilts his head at me again.

“Y’know, I can’t think straight right now,” he tells me, “What d’you say we loosen the old brains up,” he drops the pencil and pokes his right temple a few times, “with some good old liquid filth? I fancy something Scottish - whisky or something? You can recommend. I haven’t drank in ages.”

A man after my own heart. Good stuff.

“Oh no. I know exactly what to introduce you to,” I grin.

Twenty minutes and two shiny new bottles of Buckfast later and we’re truly ready to rumble.

“Community art project,” Ryan suggests.

“Bespoke furniture - repairs, repainted, resold. Profits to charity.”

“Or pumped back into the community.”

“That works too. How about a mural in a high footfall area?”

He shakes his head, “I’d put it in an impoverished area. Not the town centre. So many people skip over the schemes.” We share another focused gaze as he explains further. “Look at the cities. A classic example is LA.” He bites his lip for a moment as he thinks, “Hmm…what do you think of when I say LA?”

I pause for a few seconds, my eyes flicking to my sketchbook before I take another mouthful of the potent alcohol. My eyes come to rest on that lip as I think. LA’s obvious - celebrity, flashing lights, wild parties, but when I tell him that, he starts to laugh.

“Hell naw, Gavin,” he chuckles, “it’s not all that. This is exactly what I mean - people skip over the true people and places to see what they want to see. No one wants to see the violence and the drugs and the underage sex and realise that the big cities are just like their own neighbourhoods. What I mean is, like,” he takes a quick slug of his own bottle, screwing his nose up as he gets used to the unique taste, “the focus needs to be on the reality and not the facade.”

This boy fascinates me. It’s curious how he can take what I’d seen as a stupid little college project and turn it into something on this scale as if it’s easy. I nod in response to him and jot down his ideas as he takes another drink - the Buckfast is a success. As I write, something crosses my mind - we’re both thinking a little too big.

“Mind you,” I drop my pencil for a second, grabbing my bottle again. The dark liquid flows down my throat as I gulp it greedily. Without even screwing the cap back on the bottle, I sit it down and continue, “there would be a lot of planning involved with a mural. I don’t think we’d be able to pull it off.”

The fire dims from Ryan’s eyes as he replies with a curious “Oh?”

“We have five weeks, right?” I raise a hand and begin lazily toying with my flesh tunnels, pulling the black metal clockwise. Ryan nods. “Well, first we’ll need to contact the council and wait for permission. I don’t know if we choose a place first and then contact them or if they allocate us somewhere. Problem with that is that we don’t where it’ll be,” I pause for a moment, giving us both time to scribble down my words. When both pencils stop moving and Ryan’s eyes gaze up at me eagerly waiting my next move, I continue, “If we get a wall and that’s a huge if, we need to plan our design according to the space. Also, where do I come in as a photographer? When you’ll be the one designing it and painting it?”

The American nods - he pouts for a few moments, obviously annoyed that the idea has been shot down but then that smile comes back. “See? I knew you could actually think!” He grins. I roll my eyes before joining his laughter. “So…what do we do now? We need to think of something else.” Ryan takes a few huge gulps of his bottle then lowers his head, ruffling his hair almost rhythmically as the alcohol hits him. He sways a little, laughs at himself for doing so, and continues playing with his hair as he becomes lost in thought. He picks up his pencil again but instead of focusing on his doodles, my eyes are glued to him. He’s definitely the spark of inspiration I’ve been needing. Having someone like this whom I can bounce ideas off of is already making my ideas stronger.

After a while, I realise I’ve been staring at him for an awkward amount of time but luckily he’s too engrossed in his sketches of happy cats to even notice me. I lower my eyes to the empty space on my pages - even with all our mindmaps and annotations, the pages still look so empty.

It’s pretty obvious neither of us have any more ideas so I’m not surprised when he breaks the silence.

“Wanna just call it a night and watch some Youtube or something?”

I brave another glance at him and notice that with the emptying bottle has come an alcohol fuelled hot flush - his cheeks are visibly pinking and his eyes are a little glazed. I smile at him and agree and we pack up our stuff, leaning the A3 sketchbooks against the radiator. As I go to pick up my bottle, my drunken grip loosens involuntarily and I realise with horror that the cap is still sitting on the floor. Ryan doesn’t even realise until he’s covered in the dark liquid. Oh shit. Before I can apologise, that familiar heartwarming laughter blossoms into the house as he wipes his face.

“Gee, thanks Gavin! That your revenge for me crashing into you?” he chortles, jumping to his feet. He sways but manages to steady himself before grinning at me and darting off to the bathroom.

And so I’m left feeling awkward as fuck with a carpet to clean so I set to it.

The night passes with mirth and merriment as we watch stupid Youtube videos, introduce each other to some of the more obscure channels we’re both subscribed to and drink more. He ends up staying the night on the sofa.

The morning crashes in with a great clatter - the windows vibrate, the bed shakes and a two second earthquake rumbles me and Ryan out of slumber as the couple downstairs wakes us with another one of their wonderful arguments. The door is slammed and the sound of the wife thundering out of the close echoes throughout the house. With an irritated sigh, I swing myself out of bed, throwing on the closest pair of jeans and t-shirt and head through to the living room. To my surprise, Ryan is already awake - his sketchbook is open and he’s sitting in his underwear and his original t-shirt, cross-legged on the floor.

“Oh hey,” he waves at me as I enter. I exchange his gesture and let myself slump into the sofa on top of the duvet. “I’ve been awake for hours,” he tells me. So he was lucky enough to escape the horrendous racket that woke me… “I think I’m on to something for the project.”

I blink a few times then wipe the sleep from my eyes, cringing as I glance at the living room clock - it’s half ten.

“Sorry about the neighbours,” I say, running my hands through my hair, tearing through the knots - I didn’t go for a shower last night so my hairspray is still holding the organised bed-head chaos.

Ryan shrugs in response as he smiles at me, “it’s cool, dude! By the way, I meant to ask you last night - you wanna go to the college Halloween party? I kinda wanna go but like…” he pauses, leaning back from his work, “I have no one to go with and it’d be so awkward just sitting by myself, haha!”

Without thinking, I nod, telling him I’ve never been to any of the college night outs anyway - it’ll be a good laugh.

Ryan grins at me and continues, “Anyway, I was thinking of like…um…a fashion project.” He screws his nose up for a moment then pokes his cheek with his pencil. “I mentioned my bro is an ex model and believe me, he has a powerful aura - he’ll be a great asset to us if he agrees. What am I saying? It’s Saffron: he’s a camera whore. He will agree, haha. So like, you’re a photographer so we can have a full fashion studio session and we’ll take old fabrics from like charity stores and garage sales and I’ll design new outfits. Saffy will model them for us, you take the shots and viola! We have Re:Style - up-cycled, sustainable fashion.”

Still half asleep, I begin absent mindedly poking my finger through my ear tunnels. Two cups of tea later and I’m beside Ryan, hunched over my sketchbook as the caffeine kicks in and I begin to wake up. His idea is perfect for both of us - it uses both of our skill sets and even brings in external help. When I’ve jotted down all of his new ideas, I can’t help but stare at him in awe as he grins, pouring his heart and soul into his sketchbook. His idea is flawless and I’m more than a little curious to see what sort of designs he’ll produce for the products. We agree that his brother will come in during our presentation and actually model an outfit for us while we talk about the brand and the concept.

Another assignment is gonna be nailed.

Re:Style. Recycle. Rewear. Reuse.

That’s all we have to work with at the moment. While Ryan has gone ahead and started sketching out some clothes and some accessories, I’ve been sitting twiddling my thumbs for the week, wondering when I’ll get to show him my strengths behind the lens. Ryan thinks I should be planning out the images but honestly, I want to wait and see what his brother looks like so I can utilise him in the best way possible.

All I can do for now is bide my time so, instead of waiting around, I turn my attention to the image of the project. We need to be branded. We need a logo, advertising materials, all of which I can do none. Great. So now I find myself hanging back after class for that little hour of extra work in Adriano’s classroom, slumped over a sketchbook trying to design a logo when I have no freaking idea what I’m doing. I don’t know anything about fonts or copyrights or anything that doesn’t involve a camera. Shit. At least I’m trying though, I guess.

“How’s that project coming along?” Adriano asks, his voice carried over to me by the jazz quietly seeping from his laptop as he sits behind his desk, working on…well, whatever lecturers work on. I scratch my head with my pencil and confess that I have a great concept but I’m banging my head off the first hurdle. “A logo, eh?” he takes a sip of his coffee and falls quiet for a moment. “You know, my friend has her own graphic design company. It’s nothing major - just a small studio in a nearby town - but they get clients from all over Ayrshire and further afield.” I watch him as he takes another sip. “I can do you a favour if you do me one.”

My jaw drops, eyes widen. Seriously? Fucking hell to the yes. Doesn’t matter what his favour is - if he can do something for me to further my ambitions, I’m down.

“Sure thing,” I tell him, “what do you need from me?”

He pauses for a moment, takes another drink, “I’m scheduled for a London trip this Saturday with my partner - starting our Christmas shopping early - yet I’ve been asked by Lynda to help her studio with a little product photography for a new client. They’re building the website and the client, being a small team of two women making small soft toys to order, aren’t able to provide the high quality product images that they’d like to present their items.”

I see where this is going.

“I fill in for you?”

Adriano nods, his dark eyes wandering to the rain-drenched sporting arena outside the classroom window.

“You do this for me and you’ll meet Charlie, Lion & Panda’s in-house graphic designer. I was to receive a small payment for the job - I’ll contact L&P beforehand and tell them that this will be the payment instead. It’ll be an hour’s work for Charlie.”

I can’t believe my luck.

“A…are you sure about this, Adriano?” I ask him curiously. There’s no way it can be this easy, can it? He nods.

“You’re my star student, Gavin. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, you know.”

I could leap over the desks and kiss him.

“Thank you so much,” I fluster, eyes wide with excitement. A few hours photographing some stuffed animals? Easy as pie.

“No, thank you,” Adriano replies, a smile on his face. “I’d forgotten all about the arrangements with Lynda and was about to ask my contacts but I’d rather it was someone like you who filled in, someone who could do with some real experience.”

Score.

“So this Saturday right?” I confirm. The day after the Halloween party. I decide not to breathe a word about the logo to Ryan. I’m gonna surprise him with it. I want him to see that I’m thinking outside the box, that I’m actually trying, rather than sitting about and doing nothing while he does all the work.