anemonewrites:
“You’re trying out for uni again?” He doesn’t know why he sounds so surprised, Ethan is the smartest person he knows (except for maybe Owl), and for him not to get his degree would be a huge waste. Toby himself knows he’s not suited to higher education, though what he’s going to do with his life now he’s back home is anybody’s guess, and something he’s completely unwilling to think about at present. Still, to see his friends succeeding academically has always made him proud, and to see Ethan pursuing something Toby knows very well that he loves makes him all the happier.
“Wait, wait - art trade!” He says enthusiastically, snatching up his backpack from where he had discarded it on the floor and proceeding to rummage feverishly through its contents, occasionally dumping the odd piece of clothing out of the side in his haste. Eventually Toby is able to produce his own sketchbook - an ancient thing that he’s been carrying around since sixth form, largely held together by the colourful stickers plastered across its cover - and shoves it across the table at Ethan. “There is so much cool shit in Europe, mate, and even cooler people. All the new stuff’s near the back.”
With that said, Toby reaches out for the pile of immaculate papers his friend had gestured at, but then thinks better of it and gives his hands a quick wipe on the front of his jeans, mindful of Ethan’s warning not to wreck them. “These are great!” He proclaims, before quickly conceding, “I mean, obviously I’m no architecture guy, but still, aces! Are you putting all of these in your ‘folio? There’s a lot here…” Toby leafs through the drawings as carefully as he is physically able to, though he still leans in right close to examine the details. “You probably don’t even need to go to uni, I bet some big business arse would buy these right now.”
He shrugs in response. They both know that uni was one of the several elephants in the room that Ethan was bound to confront sooner rather than later. His grandparents had wanted him to finish school, and while Ethan had had the grades to do it, he simply hadn’t been in a mindset to pursue anything of the like. The last several months at Grimm had him thinking otherwise - or at least start changing how he thought about school and his ability to accomplish it.·
Ethan blinks in surprise as a sketchbook that he knows all too well is shoved in front of his nose. It had been a while since he had seen the thing (a year to be exact), but he’d probably be able to identify it if its excitable and sometimes forgetful owner ever lost it somewhere. “I have to narrow them down. Show them a diversity but also prove that I’ve got my own style. Or something like that.” He fingers the pages of the worn, falling apart sketch book flipping towards the back of the book where he can only assume the new pieces are. It’s as if he forgot how talented Toby actually was when it came to art. His friend’s year-long journey is laid out as clear as day in front of him on the pages, and Ethan can’t help but feel a little jealous, but undeniably proud that Toby had been able to experience everything he had drawn in his sketchbook.·
Looking up from the sketchbook, Ethan stares at his friend’s profile as he pours over his own drawings.·“Why don’t you go to art school or start publishing something?” he asks. “You’ve gotten better. Loads better.”












