The Artist | #3✓

Chapter 2

We got home soon after and met our mother talking to Xander's parents while he sat down in one of the living room sofas.

"Hey!" Wyatt said, waving at him as we walked in. Xander rose his head up. He had dark brown hair like most people in my family, but his eyes were a warm green instead of the common deep brown. That was probably from his father, the sperm donor to his parents.

Xander looked surprised by Wyatt's friendliness. He even pointed at himself oddly as if asking if he'd been actually talking to him.

Wyatt laughed, nodding towards him. "Yes, I was talking to you. How have you been?" he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Oh," Xander said, looking away briefly. "I've been doing fine," he answered as he continued to watch the muted news playing on the TV screen in front of him. I didn't blame Xander for being surprised. Wyatt barely acknowledged his presence anytime he visited before, but Wyatt had changed. He's a lot friendlier — open. His boyfriend must have rubbed off on him.

"I'm heading upstairs, do you know which room you're staying in?" Wyatt asked, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he looked over at Xander. Xander turned towards him, running a hand through his hair as he nodded in reply.

"Yeah, I'm staying in the guest room," he said as Wyatt smiled.

"Ah, okay. If you need anything I'll be up in my room," Wyatt said before leaving the living room. The place went silent with me standing by a sofa, and Xander returning his gaze to the muted TV screen in front of him.

"Wyatt seems different," I heard him say.

"Yeah," I agreed, letting my nails sink into the soft material of the sofa as I bit my bottom lip. "How long do you think your mums are going to spend talking to my mum?" I asked. I needed to tell my mum about the opportunity Mr. Dave had told me about. I'd thought about it as Wyatt and I had walked home in silence, and with each passing thought on the way, it'd seemed more like a good idea.

So what if Toby was going to be there? It would just be three months, and I'd get paid as well as gain some experience. He'd probably act like nothing was out of the ordinary anyway, so the stabbing pain in my chest would be easier to ignore.

"I'm not sure, maybe another thirty or so minutes? They really don't want me to be here on my own," Xander laughed, making my eyes widen briefly in surprise. I'd barely heard him do anything but talk softly under his breath, and yes, laughing was a bit out of the ordinary for him, or anyone in his nuclear family for that matter.

"Ah," I said as I took a sit on the sofa I'd been resting my weight on. "They're really protective aren't they?" I watched as Xander shrugged in response to my question, not saying anything as he returned his divided attention to the TV again. I let out a sigh, taking my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans to go through it as I waited.

After a while, my mum walked into the living room with Xander's parents. One of them was my mum's sister, a petite woman with the signature Wilson brown hair and eyes, while the other was her wife Ivanka who was a redhead with dark eyes. They were based in Canada, my mum's sister being a newspaper illustrator, and her wife being a journalist.

"Xander, we'll be leaving soon," aunt Ivanka said with a small smile. I could tell that she was worried by her tense stance. She didn't look like she was prepared to leave the house or Xander behind. Xander hadn't been out of his hometown for more than a month before, and schooling in the USA for months at a time was a big step — maybe too big of a step for his parents to digest.

Xander tore his gaze from the TV to look at his parents with a smile on his face. He got up when my mum's sister spread her hands, and he walked into the hug.