Midge didn't hop right out of bed the next morning like he usually did. Instead he rested, curled up at Scott's side. When he finally did get up he took care of himself in the bathroom and then set up the coffee machine and grabbed a glass of milk, his morning ritual.
He perched on the window sill to sip his milk and watch the world go by and when that was done, he grabbed his sketch pad. He wasn't sure what to draw to get some of his feelings out, but he knew this was the best way. He was still holding his pencil when he heard Scott come up behind him.
"Morning Midge" he said, still groggy. When Midge tried to climb down he held up his hand. "Coffee, right? I can get my own." He kissed him on the forehead and grabbed his cup, sitting down on the couch. "So, can I see what you're working on?"
"I have not started today, I just woke up."
"Can I see others then, or are they private?"
"Private? I have nothing private from you. You may see them if you wish." He climbed down and handed the book to Scott, curling up at his side.
He held it in his hands but didn't turn the page. "Speaking of privacy, we need to get a bigger apartment. Why don't we go looking today?"
"You do not like this apartment?"
"I want you to have your own room, your own space."
Midge felt like he'd been struck. He swallowed, forcing down the panic and trying to think. What have I done wrong? I did not please you, you do not want me. "Alright." I'm sorry! "I will get dressed."
"No rush, most complexes won't be open yet anyway. I'll make a few calls, I'd love to get a place at Jake's if they have vacancies." When he heard the bathroom door close he turned the page back and looked at Midge's most recent drawing. It was of his tattoo, and really well done. He'd used shading to make it 3-dimensional.
The previous page was not such a happy drawing. Scott wasn't sure what it was; it was very abstract, black with hints of red. He couldn't help but feel angry, just from looking at it. It brought out feelings he didn't want Midge to ever feel.
He turned back one more and that was, again, not something he would hang on the wall. Is that Misty's collar? A hand? The colors and lines were so mixed that it was hard to tell where one part of the drawing began and another ended, they were just layered on top of each other.
Behind that page was a portrait of a man. Dark curly hair, an arrogant smirk and dark, dark eyes. Who is this?
He heard the door open and closed the book, feeling like he had pried, that he shouldn't have looked. He looked up at Midge and grinned. "Sorry I missed you this morning, want to cuddle and watch a cartoon?"
"If you would like." Midge walked methodically over and sat down, curling against the corner of the couch.
"Are you okay? With everything that happened last night?" he asked, concerned. Midge seemed distracted, worried about something.
"Yes, it was... different and very nice. Thank you for being so kind to me. I... do not know how to thank you."
"No thanks required, I'm just glad you're okay this morning. If you want to talk, please talk to me about it, okay?" He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his head on the back of the couch, relaxed.
"I will." he answered softly. Do you want me to go? I should go. You are too kind to ask me leave. You should not have to move. I ruined everything last night but I do not understand how.
"Spongebob work for you?"
"Yes, he is silly. I like this one a lot."
Scott tried to focus on the cartoon but all he could think about was the ball of guilt in his gut for looking at Midge's book. "Midge, I looked through your drawings. I'm sorry if you didn't want me to."
"You may look at them whenever you like."
"I won't, again, unless you offer to show me. Some of them were very dark, did you do those after the trip to see Misty?"
"Two of them, I think. The ones that are not really pictures."
"I know which ones you mean." Scott tried to decide whether to ask, but he wanted to know. "Who was the man?"
"Oh, I drew a picture of my first master. Does it displease you? I promise that it was not meant to anger or hurt you."
"You can draw absolutely anything you want. Your choice. You don't even like to say his name, do you?"
"No, I prefer not to. It is up to you. Would you like me to?"
"No, no, that's fine. I know who you mean Midge. You don't have to say things the way I want; as long as I understand you it doesn't matter. I'm going to call Jake and then we'll do some looking, okay?"
"Of course." When Scott went into the bedroom he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his hoodie and two granola bars from the counter, and slipped out the door. In his pockets were the spirit gum Kelly had left him for his ears, his toothbrush, an extra t-shirt and another pair of socks.
Scott dialed and gathered up his dirty clothes, throwing them in the hamper. He had been talking to Jake for a few minutes when he glanced over and saw something on the bed reflecting the light. He reached out and picked up Midge's bracelet. Jumping up, he ran into the living room and looked around but he knew, without even calling out for him, that he was gone.