34- Dazzle in distress

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I'm wearing a, frankly, dazzling black suit with a sparkling black waistcoat, my fingers wrapped around a glass of champagne that is honestly more of an accessory than a beverage.

My hair is swept back from my face, shorter than it's been for years, but somehow still long enough to hang into my eyes. My rings clink against the glass in my hands, a polite but reserved smile on my lips as I nod and make small talk and generally pretend that I want to be here.

Critics, buyers, artists, even some celebrities mill around. Some point and whisper, some laugh, some smile, some gawp, some stare wide eyed in what I hope to be amazement. It doesn't really bother me, what their reaction is, as long as there is one. To incite a feeling, a thought, an image.

This is my third show, and although this exhibition is solely my work, it's been open for 2 weeks and by now the novelty has definitely worn off. Thankfully, tonight is the last night of the showcase. The exhibition will remain open to the public, but I'm not required to be here.

I can't wait.

I hide from the public eye rather than bask in it, gently avoiding my agent and her crew of clamouring assistants. I learnt the hard way what an evening in their company can do to a man.

I entirely zone out after an hour, the glass of champagne still clenched in my grasp now warm from my body heat and even more undrinkable. I make another round of the sculptures in the back, my feet walking the halls of this gallery without thought, as they have a thousand times before.

I make my way over to my favourite piece, the dull ache in my chest a familiar friend when I spot someone already there.

It's my smallest piece, the neck and collar bones of a man that Amyas had once complemented. I ended up deciding to leave if half painted, the colours slowly ebbing to grey from left to right.

It's tucked away in a shadowy corner, very often getting missed or forgotten, even by studio staff, so I'm surprised when I spot a figure there. I walk closer, my lips drawing up before I freeze in my spot.

His physique is different, a little leaner than I remember but no change could be so drastic that my keen eye wouldn't recall it. My breath is stolen from me, my chest restricting painfully as I hesitate.

I shake my head minutely, panic flooding my body. I can't do this, I know it in my bones. My eyes lower to the floor as I step away quickly. I'm flustered as I turn, smacking into another familiar face.

"Heathcliff! There you are! I've been looking all over for you." Grey says and I smile weakly.

"You found me." I murmur and he grins mischievously.

"Ledger, this show. It's amazing. I'm serious, your best work yet." He says encouragingly and I roll my eyes.

"You say that every time." I point out.

"Yeah but this...this is something else." Grey says, tugging his hat down a little. He's finding that he gets a little more attention these days since his broadway debut.

"Grey, listen I..." I begin but he cuts me off sheepishly.

"I had a surprise for you!... but it looks like you've already found him." He adds and I frown painfully.

Movement in my peripheral vision draws my attention and I finally look up, my eyes all but drinking him in as I scan his face.

He looks withdrawn and very serious, his eyes searching mine.

He wears a little facial hair now, making him look painfully rugged and handsome. Everything about him is still sharp and neat, his hair a little longer but still perfectly styled, his navy blue suit tailored to fit every delicious inch of him. His mismatched eyes shine vibrantly under the spotlights, making me wonder how I survived a single second without them.

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