When I Was A Moonrunner - Chapter 5

[union_jack]

Here's chapter 5, I'll be doing chapter 6 as well because my part was too long for one chapter (maybe two actually :/) hope you enjoy it!
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Rembrandt

The sun was coming up, showing the town for what it really was. A bare wasteland, that looked so full of dreams in the night now just reminded me of the past and made me sad. Talking to Bullet gave me a chance to think. It had been a hell of a night but now I could see straight. I had to cut the ties and move on.
I went back home for the last time. It was empty, mom must've been shopping or something. I stopped and looked at our shack. I was going to miss this, miss my family but I knew there was no turning back. This was it, and I knew I could make a life for myself on the streets. I climbed up the drainpipe to my bedroom window. Seemed I did this all the time these last few years. More and more I was out all night practicing my style or out drinking. That's when I thought I should probably talk to Django.

Django was the guy who got me into writing. When I was growing up in the Bronx, around 15, I started seeing his tag appearing on, what seemed at the time, like every building  in my neighbourhood. I didn't know much about graffiti back then but what I started to see blew my mind – and I couldn't even pronounce his name yet. I wanted so bad to spray like him so I hit the streets with a can of spray from my dad's old tool box.
I stood in front of the wall in a small alleyway, not knowing what to do, nervous that someone might see me. I started with a big red, dripping “M” for Marcelino. It didn't look great but it still gave me a big rush. I breathed out deeply, when a voice emerged from the shadows.
“You got guts, toy. I'll give you that.”
I backed myself into the wall in one movement of complete terror. I stuttered, lost for words. I knew what guys did who hung around in the shadows. He stepped out of the darkness, casually. He was dark skinned, wore a camo jacket with a red undershirt and a black beanie hat.
“Shame about your handstyle though, brother.” I couldn't place his tone, he drawled sarcastically. Either way I wanted to run but it was all so sudden - I dropped the spray out of fear. He laughed.
“You don't know this is my spot do you?” he looked up gesturing me to do the same, I did.
About 10 feet above us was a huge piece that he'd done above a fire exit. “DJANGO” in huge red and yellow letters. It was the best piece I'd seen at that time.
“I'm sorry you won't ever see me again,  I swear,” I turned to leave but I had to tell him, “but that piece is insane.” He grinned at me.
“Hey.. don't go just yet. What's your name?”
I was still so nervous, “Err... Marcelino.”
“No, I mean your tag, man...” I didn't know. “See my tags Django..”
He pronounced it “Jango”, I laughed as the tension fell away. “You know, I've been calling you Duh-jango all this time.”
This caught his attention.
“So, you've seen my stuff before, then?”
“Yeah it's... amazing, Django.” He beamed smugly, the guy was as cool as his art. The thing I noticed most was how at home he was in this little back alley. He walked the streets like an Indian, like only he knew the land.
“I suppose you wanna write like me then, huh?”
“More than anything, man.”
“Well then, you need a name, lil Marcelino.”
    Together, we came up with Rembrandt. I knew he was a great artist, and that's what I wanted to be, but here in the streets. The name felt right, down to the shape of the letters. These letters I now see in my head when I try to sleep until I give up, climb out my window to go and bomb, all city.
Django taught me a lot that night and by sunrise I could already feel my ties to the streets becoming stronger. I'd lived in this neighbourhood all my life but I'd never felt such a part of it. I knew I was a part of something big, something growing in the city, and these ties began to pull me in, deeper and deeper.

[!Furies!Punks!]

Excellent chapter mate. Keep it up.