Art

The one thing I didn’t like as an adult, was that I was starting to wake up earlier than I ever did than when I was younger. I was only getting older, since my birthday was coming soon in August, so I accepted that I would only change with age, continuously and without warning.

It was totally unfair. My body was betraying me. Though at the same time I was beginning to appreciate the small things, like—I considered other people and their feelings more often, and I was more patient than I ever was when I was in high school.

Back then, I wasn’t the best kid. I still had some things to work out when it came to changing myself, but along the ways I’d found others who were really helpful in doing that.

I was thankful for them all, friend or foe. Family, too, was a big help, and I was glad that I had so many of them to depend on. All these people were there to inspire me, and now . . .

Now there was someone else who continued to show me that adulthood wasn’t so scary.

When I met Lewis for the first time, yeah I got a rush of nostalgic memories from high school, though I saw how much he’d grown. It made me realize that I wasn’t the only one who had become an adult.

I hadn’t known him at all before. I was barely getting to know him now, and in the most intimate way possible. It wasn’t as a lover, nor as an acquaintance. Maybe a friend? I wasn’t sure yet what this was.

Stifling a yawn, I pushed the bed covers off to the side, closing my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again to remember that I wasn’t the only one in bed. The early morning grogginess had done its job of making me forgetful of real life, compared to the dreams it provided through the night.

When I turned, I saw the small lump that was Lewis, still asleep peacefully, probably blissfully unaware of my presence. And even though he was, I didn’t want to wake him up. We were fake-boyfriends, but that didn’t mean I had any right to disturb him.

I let my eyes linger on his sleeping form, tightly wadded in the bundle of blankets that he’d taken from me in the night. I only slept with the under sheets of the bed, which was fine because the summer never called for anything heavy anyway.

His eyes were tightly shut, like he was still trying to dream, and his arms were extended out, reaching over to my side to clutch at my shirt with weak fingertips. His usually tidy hair was now messy, falling into his eyes in curly wisps.

It was at this time that I registered what I was doing.

I was watching him sleep.

Sitting up in bed, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, covering any sights I could see to my left. From what I could hear, Lewis was breathing softly, sleepily, clutching at my shirt more fiercely.

This bed was too small to fit two people. It was a Queen, not nearly a King size. And I was pretty tall, though thankfully Lewis was slightly shorter. We could fit, but personal space was completely eliminated when we were both in bed.

I released my face to stare at the glow of the digital clock on the bedside table, reading 8:05 A.M.

It was too early for this . . .

I couldn’t think clearly.

Lewis

When I woke up, I couldn’t find Art anywhere until I saw the post-it message he left for me on the fridge in the morning, a little after 10 when I woke up.

He was off to work at his uncle’s garage again. It looked like that was all he did. Considering what Theo told me of his student debt, I couldn’t blame him. I only hoped he was getting enough rest. What time had he gotten up? 8? 7?

Well, if that was the case, then he must’ve seen me sleeping. Or maybe he hadn’t. Why would he? It wasn’t like I was his actual boyfriend or anything. We didn’t have to share tender morning stares. No way.

This is the way I thought for a long time. We’d been sharing the loft for over a week now, entering two. He always woke up earlier than me, since I was a night owl. I never had the opportunity to see his sleeping face.

Not like I wanted to.

Nope.

This train of thought was, as I explained, my way of thinking so far. It was like I obliterated my main goal from the start. I wanted to abandon my idea of running away. I wanted to spend as much time with Art as I could, so that I wouldn’t regret it when we parted ways by the end of summer.

I would never tell him this. I didn’t want to trouble him with what I felt. And it wasn’t like I had feelings for him . . . probably. I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t really know since my overall objective was to be grateful that he was just there, beside me, as a friend. I couldn’t—I definitely couldn’t trouble him with my selfishness.

That was why it felt like I was running away. It was cowardly. But I was a coward! As a teenager I was bad, though as an adult I was even worse.

Returning back to the loft, I lifted my camera up and over from around my neck, to hold it gingerly in my hands. When I turned it on, nothing but mediocre pictures were displayed on the small square screen.

Lately, I hadn’t gotten any good shots of anything. I believed that living in the city would provide me with inspiration, though it seemed to have the opposite effect.

If I couldn’t vent out my problems through some sort of art form, then what was I supposed to do? Talk about it with someone? I didn’t want to do that.

That was stubborn of me, but it was better than nothing. I merely wanted someone who didn’t know of my situation entirely to help me. Theo knew everything. Sammy had an inkling. Damon knew nothing, though he was a writer and he would probably use my problems for his story so—no. Felix? No. Charlie was busy enough. Lucas? Never.

So much for depending on family for advice . . .

The only other person I’d consider, and only purely out of convenience, was the woman standing before me in all her glory, arms folded and heels digging into the dirt ground beneath the porch roof beside the garden gnome table.

She was there, and it already looked as if she knew what I was going through. It was frustrating to know how easily she could figure me out, more so than my own cousins.

My aunt Vera situated herself in that little nook, sitting on the chair that Theo had sat in last time, but unlike him, she did not appear happy. She never did. It was her charming trait, and I wasn’t exaggerating about that.

Other than my other aunt, whom I hadn’t seen since I last visited Lucas, Vera was the other sharp woman that intimidated me. I honestly wished I had that power.

“Aunt . . .” I said, setting down my camera on the table next to the stone gnome. She must have been here to visit her son, my cousin Damon. They were constantly bickering.

She was wearing a deep blue suit, with a bright red silk scarf hanging from her neck. Her hair was up, tucked into a stiff hat that covered her right eye. “I see you’ve adjusted yourself to this place.” Her voice was deep, exactly as I remembered it. “I’m guessing that means you’ve become acquainted with everyone here.”

If she was talking about Tommy, then she was correct.

I was vaguely familiar with Charlie, since Damon was his good friend. Though last I heard of Tommy, he was still only a small child. Not to say he wasn’t now, but he was much older. I hardly recognized him.

I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering how she could manage to wear such thick clothing on such a hot day. I was struggling to sit in the sun, whereas she was as cool as ever. “Yes, aunt.”

Aunt Vera upturned her nose at me. “Cut to the chase, Lewis, you are avoiding something, aren’t you?”

Bullseye.

I wasn’t too shocked at her observation. “I’m trying my hardest to be an adult about it.”

“That is the thing, child.” She pointed her finger at me, nail manicured red with a white moon. “Your way of going about this is mundane, and all because you’re focusing on being an adult.”

That was the only thing I could do. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. “Aunt—”

“I know of Arturo, Lewis.” She dropped her hand to tap her fingers on the metal table one by one. “Theo didn’t tell me anything, but I know my own nephews enough to see what is happening.”

This irked me slightly. I know it wasn’t Theo’s fault. It was my own fault for carrying on like this. Her words were severe, things I needed to hear.

I glowered, “I can’t be selfish with him, or myself.”

“If you want to keep things moving forward, I suggest you stop avoiding your issues.” She advised. “Felix will see right through you two sooner or later, dear. You must step up your game and lie a bit better if you want this roof over your head.”

She was right. I needed to let loose and not restrict myself if I wanted to see my goals accomplished. But that would mean I’d have to abandon the adult ways I’d honed ever since leaving behind my past self.

If only I was more relaxed, more like Art, who exuded a sense of both responsibility and freedom. It was infuriating because he didn’t mind any of this at all. I was jealous at how cool and collected he was around me. Why couldn’t I do the same?

“Art isn’t avoiding his problems.” I said defeatedly. “I am.”

Originally, I thought she would scold me for saying that. It was a thing I’d experienced before under her watchful eye. So I was taken aback when she hummed in agreement, not saying anything except, “You like this boy more than you think, dear. Otherwise, why would you be thinking of him so much?”

I wanted to protest, but she was quick in interrupting me.

“And . . . when you think of him, you are not only thinking of yourself, but you are also considering whether these actions of yours will hurt him.” Her eyes turned a bit soft when she looked towards me. “That is what the ‘adult’ you is keeping in mind, whereas the immaturity you are trying to expel is urging your desires to be selfish. That is why I’m telling you, Lewis, to listen to your heart every once in a while.”

I stared at her, partially unable to react to what she was telling me. Growing up, I’d never received anything but scoldings and praises from my elders, as all children do. This was one of, if not the first, actual moment I felt like she was giving me advice on adulthood.

My gaze fell to my lap. I tried hard not to reject her help. I wanted to hear guidance from someone, but this was too much to take in at one time.

“I’ll consider it, aunt.” I told her.

I was still working on breaking my habit of running away.

I had to do it now, before our time was up.

Lewis

Disregarding his presence, I hung my camera on the door knob to our bedroom and fell to my knees gently on the floor, grabbing at the sheets and digging my face into the cool covers of the bed. With the windows wide open, I could smell the garden.

Art was sitting on the bed, reading over some paperwork when I arrived. I hadn’t said anything to him, but my actions were enough to tell him how tired I was from everything I’d heard throughout the day. Aunt Vera was seriously difficult to talk to. I didn’t know how Damon could do it, let alone live with the woman. It was no surprise when he decided to leave for college on the other side of the country.

I was grateful that I had normal parents, unlike the rest of the relatives in my family. They were all seriously chaotic. I was definitely spared from having any of that.

“Long day?” His voice carried through the room.

Lifting my face from the blankets, I gave him a small nod. He was as calm as ever. The complete opposite of me. I was getting better, though. I knew this because I was getting used to living with him.

I rubbed my eye, noticing at last how exhausted I was. “You could say that.”

“Is there anything I can do?” He offered, sitting forward.

There was so much he could do to help. There was so much he’d already done to help, honestly. He was the perfect partner for this ruse.

“Like a distraction?” I said more to myself.

I hadn’t thought he would act on my suggestion, but he did.

“Do you want to practice, then?” He asked.

My brows creased in confusion. What hadn’t we practiced? It felt like we’d gone over some ideas over the days, to make it appear like we were an actual couple. Any other plan was either too much or too insignificant unless anyone was starting to become suspicious of us.

Whatever it was, it was better than dwelling on my worries. “What would we practice? Lines?” I returned to laying my face on the bed.

“No . . .” He inched closer. “I meant we should kiss, only once to see if you’re okay with it.”

The mere mention made me whip my head up in astonishment. This was what I was jealous of—how casually he could bring up stuff like this.

“Y-You really want to try it?” I replied, not fully believing it. Maybe I misheard.

Also, I’d looked up too quickly. We were close, like before when I originally thought he would kiss me. But now . . . now it was actually said aloud. Not by me, but by him.

It made me wonder what type of person he liked, and who he’d dated before me. I wasn’t adventurous, risky, or carefree—which, was what I saw Art as. If that was anything like the people he’d been with, then I surely wasn’t fit for this role, nor the person he’d want to kiss.

But—

The loft.

We had to do this for the loft, dammit.

Reading the air, he brought himself back, though not before I unintentionally took the hem of his shirt. It amazed even me, so I let go immediately.

This was what my aunt was talking about. I had to indulge sometimes. And if that meant reaching out to him because I wanted to kiss, then that was what I was going to start doing.

“ . . . we should make a plan, then.” I proposed, sitting up straight.

He replied, “What kind?”

“It’s not like you have to kiss me here.” I pressed a finger to my lips. He watched as I did so. “When it’s around Felix or any of my other cousins, we can kiss . . . elsewhere.”

“So . . . no kissing on the lips?”

“N-No—we can try . . .” I had to turn away, gaze falling to the wood floor. “If things start to look suspicious, then it could be a last resort.”

Art pondered visibly, and then agreed, “I like it.”

I exhaled in relief. I was afraid he would be hesitant. Though why would he be? He’d been open to everything so far.

My roommate left his spot on the bed, moving towards the edge to leave until I halted him. Instead, I got up and sat next to him, still with my eyes lowered.

“So we should practice that. Just in case.” I said quietly.

He stayed where he was. “Just in case.”

This was just in case anyone got suspicious of us. More than what I wanted, I remained keeping Art in mind when it came to our decisions in this fake-relationship. That was how I worked. Being selfish could come and go however it pleased. That alone was enough of a risk for me now.

“Then . . .” I got up the courage to face him. “Let’s get started.”

I would make a game plan and kiss Art—

Tonight.