"Get off me! We'll fall into the frying pan!" August laughed as Vincent held on to his waist from behind him, refusing to let go as he rested his head on August's shoulder as they swayed from side to side.
"You can cook like this," Vincent said in a playful dismissive tone.
"How?" August asked in a laugh, stretching his hands out as much as he could — which about half of an arm's length.
They bickered for a while over the frying pan with melted butter until the sound of a phone ringing a distance away made Vincent undo his hands from August's waist. August looked about, spotting his phone doing a vibration dance on the white kitchen counter as it played the familiar ringtone.
"It's mine, sorry," he muttered, turning the stove off before slipping past Vincent so he could head over to his phone. He picked it up, accepting the call when he saw it was from Lisa.
"Hello?" he muttered into his phone before letting his gaze move from the kitchen sink to Vincent who was still standing by the stove wearing a worried expression. His thick brows curved inwards into a concerned frown, as his thick lips tried to imitate a thin line.
"It's okay," August muttered with a smile after covering the receiver. "I'll have to head out to talk to her. It'll take ten minutes max, I promise."
Vincent nodded, and with that August walked out of the kitchen and headed for his studio. He walked in, moving to the window before he removed his hand from the receiver.
"Hello? Sorry for just going quiet all of a sudden," he muttered, letting his gaze wander to the street below that was bathed in the noon's rays of sunshine. People were going about their day, and the street was busy with pedestrians and cars like it usually was.
"Oh, I thought the call hung up or something," Lisa's voice said from the other end as August drummed his neatly manicured nails against the white window still as he let his eyes wander from one corner to the other. His brown doe eyes soon settled on the birds that seemed to be building a nest on the next building's air-conditioning vent. It made him smile. Something similar had happened back in Detroit when birds had decided to build a nest in the cage of the fan belonging to Vincent's friend, Jane.
"Ah, I called to tell you something important," Lisa said, making August hold his breath. He wasn't sure why he thought it was going to be bad news.
"Someone has confessed to having been paid by your parents to put up a biased critique."
"Really?" August asked, sincerely surprised. "How come?"
"I told you. We offered some money. Plus, his conscience was eating at him, so he claims," Lisa said, making August nod at her words. His eyes were still a bit wide in shock, and he had to keep reminding himself to close his mouth.
"He's here at my father's office now. He wants to see you. You don't have to come—"
"I want to," August said, cutting Lisa off halfway into her sentence. He heard a sigh from the other end before a low voice muttered an okay.
"You know where the office is, don't you? Or should I ask Russell to ask someone to get you? We're still sorting out details with him, but if you insist on seeing him now, I'm not against it."
"Don't send Russell," August said, removing his weight from the window sill before wandering to the center of the art studio, his feet making dim padding sounds as he moved along the wooden boards of the room's floor.
"Okay, I won't. Is there anything else you'd like to know or tell me?" Lisa asked, making August crease his brows in brief thought.
"Can I bring Vincent with me?" he eventually asked, earning a low laugh from the other end of the line.
"Of course. I'd like to see him even," she said, as they fell into a light conversation. They talked until August remembered that he'd promised to only spend ten minutes. He apologized, hanging up soon after. He let out a sigh afterward, pinching his hair that was in a bun as he looked about the studio. He smiled lightly, realizing that he'd completed almost five new paintings since he as Vincent had met after his third exhibition. His paintings' compositions were getting bolder and more vibrant — just like they used to be. His mood really did affect his ability to create good pieces.
He let himself wander to his work in progress that was hanging up on a stand. It was a silhouette of two men holding on to each other against a background of abstract impressions. Vincent said loved it sometime in the morning, although he couldn't interpret what it was about. The thought made August smile.
August personally thought it was one of his best abstract pieces in a long while, but he doubted that the subject matter would ever allow the piece to be showcased to a larger audience -- It could, maybe, but August was just assuming on instinct.
He frowned a little, realizing that he'd only thought about the possible speculation for the first time.
His mind was a little thrown off at first as it came up with everything and anything before he willed himself to calm down.
A lot of artists were openly gay, why would the fact that his sponsors now knew make his story any different?
He wasn't sure, but he started to feel that his unreasonable paranoia came from the fact that he'd been taught to be wary of his sexuality.
August eventually left the art room to look for Vincent. He found him watching TV in the living room. Vincent looked up at him when he closed the studio door behind him.
"They got a critic to confess," August started, watching Vincent's expression. "Lisa said I could come with you to meet the man. Will you come with me?"
Vincent seemed to be thinking for a while, and August smiled when his boyfriend eventually nodded.
"Great, we're leaving now," he said, making Vincent get up from the couch to follow him into the bedroom they'd been sharing. They got dressed as August called a cab, he put away his phone when the arrangements were finalized before he got about to get his bag.
The drive to Lisa's gathered office was about an hour long. They got dropped off on the pavement, before heading for the entrance to the three-story building surrounded by multiple parked cars.
"You're here!" August heard Lisa's voice say as she walked out from the door to enter the reception they'd been waiting at. Her hair was down today, and she was in a knee length pencil skirt and a white work blouse. Her smile widened when she spotted Vincent beside him. She extended a hand to Vincent when he got up from the reception couch with August, in an attempt to initiate a handshake.
"You must be Vincent," she smiled, making the dark man nod before taking her hand in a brief handshake.
"Follow me," she said to August and Vincent when the handshake ended, making them follow her out of the reception and through a hallway. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she walked, the sound stopping when she got to a door. She turned the knob, pushing it inwards before looking back at August and Vincent and giving them a gesture that told them to follow.
August walked in after Vincent. He immediately noticed Lisa's father sitting behind the high desk, and oddly enough he recognized the short dark haired man sitting by it. The man had talked to him during the second exhibition and had almost made August uncomfortable with all his praises.
"You?" August said in surprise, frowning a bit. The man seems to have just noticed his presence in the room and tried to give him want seemed to be a cross between a smile and a worried look.
"Have a seat," Lisa's father said, making August turn his gaze to the chair beside the critic. He looked at it with a hesitant gaze before heading over to the cushioned chair to sit down. Vincent and Lisa remained standing by the wall, and the whole room fell into an uncomfortable silence only tinted by the sound of the ticking wall clock above the office's door.
"Well," Lisa's father said, breaking the silence. "Don't you have something to say?"
The dark-haired critic adjusted his wine tie as he nodded. He was flushed and was probably struggling to put his thoughts into words. August observed him, his hands folded into fists on his clothed lap.
"I was paid by your parents to give you a demeaning critique," the man finally admitted. "I didn't want to do it at first — at all, but they kept increasing the bribe and begging... It soon started to seem like they were threatening me — pressuring me. Yes, that's the word. I gave in eventually."
The man looked up from his thighs to stare at August. "Everything I mentioned in that critique was the opposite of what I really wanted to say. I had a hard time writing that, and I'm sure you had a harder time reading it. Please forgive m—"
"Do you have evidence?" Lisa's father suddenly asked, cutting the man mid-sentence. "You showed us the transaction, but that won't be enough to accuse them of anything."
"I have emails and messages that they sent me," the man said, his face a little pale. Lisa's father nodded, drumming his fingers against his table. He let out a sigh before looking straight at the man.
"Don't worry, we won't get you involved with the police. We can state you as an anonymous source. If his parents try to pull you into this we'll pay your fines and make sure word doesn't leave the station."
The critic nodded at Lisa's father's words before turning his attention back to August. "I hope you can forgive me," he said, making August look away from him with a thoughtful look on his face.
"Let me think," August muttered, running a hand through his hair that was held back in a loose bun at the back of his head. The critic nodded, probably expecting that exact response from August.
"My name is Richard, in case you forgot. We talked at the exhibition, remember?" the critic said, earning a small smile from August.
"I remember you, but I'm not too good with names so I didn't remember that," August admitted before turning to Lisa's father. "Lisa told me that we'll be rescheduling the Q and A, is that true?"
"Yes, we are," the man responded with a smile before turning towards were Lisa and Vincent were standing. The two seemed to be having a discussion in hushed tones.
"Is that the Vincent person?" Her father asked, making August's face warm up as well as make Vincent and Lisa turn their attention to him. August had just remembered that Lisa had to tell the sponsors and the team about his relationship to explain why he suddenly left the hall during the exhibition.
"Is he?" Lisa's father asked again when August didn't reply. August nodded, making the sponsor let out a low teasing laugh.
The rest of the time spent in the air-conditioned office was used to talk. August had a strained discussion with Richard while Lisa and her father got to talk to Vincent. Russell came in sometime later, asking had done anything in his room the past week.
August felt the cool wind kiss his smiling lips when he left the building with Vincent. Things were finally falling into place gradually and the idea that he would soon be completely free from his parents both excited and scared him.
He'd be free.
Free to completely embrace his art and the man that he's met along his road to self-discovery.
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