Lmao the painting described in this chapter is above in colored pencil. By me, of me, etc. :) it's also the cover for this book because I'm a # basic bitch
-Mel
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Luke's standing in the hallway patiently, hands locked behind him and back straight, while he waits. Calum's next to him, rubbing at his short hair while trying to coerce Luke into going back into his studio by tugging gently on the taller boy's belt loop. After a few minutes, Calum just ignores Luke's pants and shoves his hand down the back of the tight jeans, instead. Luke squirms away at the feeling of his cold fingers and shoves Calum back, sending him stumbling into the wall.
"Stop," Luke says firmly, crossing his arms over his broad chest to glare down at Calum.
"What are we even doing here?" Calum, unlike most other people, doesn't back down. He squares himself up, crossing his own arms, and stands up straighter in an attempt to match Luke's height. They've been standing just outside Luke's studio for an hour, and Calum's bored out of his mind.
"Waiting," Luke repeats, just likes he's said every other time Calum's asked for explanation.
"For?" Calum prompts.
Luke looks both ways, like he expects to see someone else in the hallway that's been barren for the whole hour, then ducks lower so his face is right in front of Calum's. "For Michael," he whispers. "His sister or something has the studio right next to mine, but she's not there- I knocked."
"So, what?" Calum shrugs, not really seeing the point in waiting in the hallway. He doesn't see meeting Michael- whoever that is- as a pressing matter, really.
Luke looks around nervously again. "His sister is Seventeen."
Calum gasps in realization, because, oh. Okay, he understands, now. He gets it. He scans Luke's eyes quickly to make sure the younger boy isn't lying to him, then nods quickly and gestures for him to continue.
"If we play our cards right," Luke whispers lowly, eyes still darting around like someone's going to crawl out of the shadows and overhear them. "We'll get you a genuine, one of a kind, Seventeen masterpiece, and I'll get some art tips. And maybe we'll get to meet her."
"Fuck," Calum mutters, because okay, he gets it. He'd wait for days if it meant meeting Seventeen and buying a painting off of her. His wallet weighs heavy in his pocket at the mere thought of it. Calum's got more money than he knows what to do with but, luckily, Luke always finds a proactive way to spend it. Whether it be on a studio in one of the most pretentious art buildings in America for his blue eyed boyfriend, or a month long trip to Paris to get said boyfriend inspired enough to paint something beautiful, Calum's always using his money for something. Mainly Luke.
There's voices from down the hall, so Luke darts forward and presses his lips to Calum's for half a second, before throwing the door to his studio open and talking half a step into it. Calum gives him a confused look, but nods when he sees violent purple hair and soft honey colored curls over the top of the stairs. Luke steps out into the hall again and let's the door slam shut behind him, drawing the other two's attention.
"Hey, Luke," Michael greets carelessly, not even bothering to spare Calum a glance.
The other man, dressed in sleek black pants and a light blue shirt buttoned around his toned chest and biceps, smiles at Luke. "Hey, Luke, good to see you, again. Are you ready for your gallery next month?"
When he gets close enough, he holds his hand out and Luke grabs it to shake, which is weird. Calum's never seen his boyfriend so professional around someone. "Yeah, I'm finishing a few more pieces, yet, but I'll be done soon enough."
Michael, presumably, stops fumbling with his keys to look between Luke and the older man. "I'll be waiting for that invitation, man."
"Yeah, yeah," Luke nods, shooting Calum a nervous look. He doesn't have invitations, Calum knows he doesn't. He also knows he'll end up paying for them. He doesn't mind. "Oh, sorry, this is Calum. Cal, this is Michael and Ashton."
"Hey," Calum greets. Ashton hurries to shake his hand and send him an award winning smile while nearly crushing every single bone in Calum's hand. Michael nods at him, but doesn't bother greeting him. He looks back down at his keys, but Ashton's not done talking, apparently.
"Nice to meet you, Calum!" He says happily. Calum tries not to show he's wincing. "Michael was just about to show me into his- his sister's studio, but maybe I'll catch you later, or-"
Michael grunts a little when he finds the right key. "They can come in."
Ashton pauses, flicking his eyes over to Michael curiously, then back to Calum with a strange look in his eyes. He tenses, squaring up at the words, with something like bitter jealousy flitting across his features.
"Can we?" Luke clasps his hands together in front of him, like that wasn't what he was playing for.
Michael glances over his shoulder at Luke while twisting the doorknob. "Yeah. She's not home and it'll do you well to see some actual art."
Calum notices Luke flare up at that, but quickly simmer when Michael opens the door. Ashton's quick to follow, shooting both Calum and Luke a look that seems to be the complete opposite of his warm smile just a minute earlier. Calum shares a small smile with Luke as they follow the other two into the studio.
"Take your shoes off," Michael says, toeing his own, loosely tied combat boots off. Ashton steps out of his dress shoes easily, but he still grabs Michael's shoulder to steady himself. Calum feels like it's more of a protective thing, the way Ashton stands so his body is almost hiding the studio. Michael grabs the smaller man's wrist and reels him in, pressing Ashton against his chest. He places a small kiss to his mouth before releasing him, again.
Calum and Luke hurry to pull their own shoes off while Ashton steps into the large room.
It's set up just like Luke's, for the most part, with floor to ceiling windows against one wall and large cabinets and a paint stained counter top against the opposite wall. The only difference is this studio is spotless, nothing except old paint from the previous owners fading on the counter. There's a mirage of canvases on the wall to the left, ranging from taller than Luke to as small as Calum's palm, separated by height. Against the other wall, hung from floor to ceiling for drying purposes, is at least ten different paintings.
"She's not working on anything right now," Michael explains. "She just finished that one last night, I think." He gestures to one that's clearly Ashton, curls falling around his face in a thick, pink, manner, so they look like intestines. His mouth is wide open and his tongue is out to reveal what looks like a pill shaped hazel pupil on it. One of his eyes is squeezed shut, while the other is wide open and bloodshot.
"Is that-" Ashton cuts off and draws in a shaky breath when he sees it. Calum doesn't blame him at all. Michael nods and pats his shoulder gently, like he's comforting him through his shock. Ashton looks like he's almost drawn to it, stepping forward slowly with his eyes locked onto the painting. "Can I?" He looks back to Michael after a second.
Michael nods again. "Yeah, 'course." He turns away while Ashton hurries over to the painting. Calum looks away from the wall of art and notices a coffee table separating two couches in the center of the room. Michael's heading towards one couch, so Calum hurries after him, leaving Luke to his own devices.
"Has Seventeen ever met Ashton?" He asks, practically stepping on Michael's heels. Michael flinches when he notices Calum's right behind him.
"Sort of," Michael admits as he throws himself onto one couch. Calum perches on the other, directly across the spotless coffee table from him. "She's spoken to him, never said who she was, though. I mentioned I was dating him and she must have had him on her mind."
Ashton sucks in sharp breath from across the room and seems almost on the verge of tears, he's so in love with his portrait. Calum will admit, it does have a certain element that draws him in, as well. It's beautiful, there's no denying that, and the color scheme seems like it was made for this single painting of Ashton. Calum glances over and sees his hands are shaking.
"You can open them," Michael calls across the room, to where Luke's staring at the cabinets longingly. Calum knows Luke never has anything in his, all of his own supplies are usually spread across the floor or on the large table he has in his studio. Luke instantly rips one cabinet open at Michael's words.
Calum turns back to Michael slowly and finds the purple haired boy is already eyeing him up. He suddenly wonders if he's ever met Seventeen, if Seventeen ever thinks of him, if she'll paint him. A shudder runs through him at the thought, a pleased one, while Michael's lips tilt up in a smirk.
Across the room, Ashton's staring at himself, his big, morbid, twisted portrait, full of dark colors and themes. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, counting Michael. The painting draws him in, somehow, leaves him completely out of breath like he's just sprinted five miles.
He's been searching for Seventeen for so long, and his mind is racing. He's found her. He's met her, Michael said he has, and now she's painted him. She's painted his face in her twisted style, in the best way he could possibly imagine. He's met her. His hands won't stop shaking.
Against the other wall, Luke's surveying everything in each cabinet. The paint tubes are sorted by color and size, oils in one cabinet, acrylics in another, and watercolors in a third. The paint brushes a separated in a similar way, except they're in silverware holders placed in the drawers under the counter. The sink is spotless, and the towels are clean, blinding white, and folded neatly in the cabinet above.
Luke rubs his fingers together to feel the oily cleaner stuck to his skin. He wipes it off on his dirty shirt. Michael and Calum are making small talk about something or another, but Luke interrupts them without remorse. "It's clean in here."
Michael's eyes flick up to Luke's, guarded and unimpressed. "Yeah."
"Is that you or her?" Luke asks.
Michael pauses, tilting his head in a way that looks like he's deciding how, exactly, Luke means that. "It's me and Twenty. That's our other sibling. She's messy, we clean up after her."
"Another number name," Luke notes.
Michael eyes him again and Luke shifts uncomfortably. "Their names aren't numbers. I just use Twenty and Seventeen to reference them, because they don't want their real names to be given out. Seventeen is afraid of fame and Twenty is paranoid."
Luke nods and turns back to the cabinets. There's paint on every square inch of his own studio, barely any room to walk, and nothing is in any order. It makes sense to Luke, but Calum always complains about the mess. Luke would be absolutely livid if one of his brothers or even Calum tried to clean up his studio. They'd mess up his unsystematic system and Luke would be completely lost.
The cupboard under the sink is filled with cleaning supplies.
Across the room, Calum feels a tug at his stomach, as the strings holding his heart together tighten and pull. His insides lurch violently at the sparkle in Michael's eyes. He wants more, wants to see more of Michael, wants to spend every minute of everyday with Michael. He wants Michael.
"Tell me about Seventeen," Calum suggests.
Michael looks at him for a second, before shrugging. "She's Seventeen, I'm not sure how else to explain her. She started painting when I was- well, when I was seventeen, I guess."
Calum sits forward eagerly. "Why hasn't anyone met her? Can we?"
"Ashton and Luke have met her," Michael says slowly. Calum bounces forward on the couch, leaning into him even more. "She was at Luke's last gallery, she said hello to Ash, but she was pissed off at Luke for his shitty paintings, so she left early. They didn't know it was her, she doesn't like introducing herself."
"Will we ever meet her?" Calum asks. "Will she ever tell us it's her?"
"I'm not sure," Michael admits. "Maybe."
Ashton let's out a small whine from across the room and Michael's eyes zero in on his back immediately, making Calum's heart physically hurt at the lack of attention.
"Calum," Luke calls gently. Michael hurries over to wrap his arms around Ashton's thin waist and kiss the side of his neck comfortingly, not even sending Calum a parting glance, so Calum turns to face his boyfriend.
Luke has an alarmed look on his face. He looks tense and uncomfortable, standing next to the sink with his small hands rolled into fists. Calum eyes him for a second, before announcing, "We should leave."
"We should," Luke confirms with a tense nod. Michael and Ashton are too caught up in their own little world to notice when the other two slip out, shooting each other strange looks when they return to Luke's studio.
"That was weird," Luke tells Calum. "No artist is that clean. That was weird."
"No brother keeps his sister hidden away like that," Calum agrees.
It only takes a few minutes for moans to start drifting through the walls, making Luke's eyebrows furrow in confusion. He wonders if Seventeen actually works there. Maybe she has a second studio specifically for working, and that one's just for entertaining. Luke finds the whole situation strange.