a work of art

chapter 50: this concludes our tour

Present

In a cracked glass case, in the dustiest, dimmest antique and oddities shop I'd ever been in, I found the ring.

THE ring.

I didn't even haggle with the ancient, wrinkled woman who owned the store. She could've named her price; I needed that ring. She grinned greasily when I paid up, thinking she was getting the better deal.

But I was.

I was about to ask the most perfect woman on the planet to marry me. And I was going to do it with this absolutely perfect ring. She didn't deserve anything less.

I left the shop on cloud nine. I didn't even know if she'd say yes. The last year had been hard, at best. Not just getting off on unsure footing, but the writing and recording of her third album, which took up so much of her time.

But it was all worth it. We'd gotten so much closer, and fallen so much more in love. Since I'd made the decision, since we'd committed to only each other, it'd been heaven on earth.

And we were ready. I knew it. She was the one.

Eight months ago

"You're getting fat, you know."

I glanced up from the bottom of a bag of Taki's. Lee was towering over me, from where I laid on the floor in a pile of throw pillows. I belched.

"And?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you don't care about that. You don't care about anything else in your life, so why would you care about that?"

Best friend loyalty aside, Lee had gotten really fucking annoying ever since I'd lost both loves of my life and moved into her basement. She was getting pushier and pushier, trying to get me to get up out of bed, up off the floor. Trying to get me to go easy on the gin and weed. Trying to get me to care about the fact that my website was tanking and my revenue was slowly dwindling.

See? Annoying.

She didn't understand that I was busy. It took a lot of energy to keep myself alive after the breakups. I was sick over it. As if my own memories weren't enough, both of them were fucking everywhere. Tiktok, Instagram, news outlets. Suddenly, awards season was upon us, and Billie's beautiful face was plastered absolutely everywhere.

Especially for me, since my algorithm was truly fucked now.

Claire, however, was quiet. Last I'd heard, she'd left physical rehab and gone straight home, where she locked herself away to write her next album.

I couldn't wait to listen and then vomit over that for weeks on end.

Lee kicked my leg. "You gotta move out, dude."

I glared at her. She threatened me with this every day. "Fat chance. You want me to be homeless?"

She stared at my orange Taki dusted fingertips on her white throw pillow. "At this point? Yes."

I slowly got up, bones creaking. "Fine. I'll go lay in the streets and die then."

"Great."

"You really don't care?" I was still glaring, but I wanted to cry. I wasn't even sure if I cared.

"Luce," she said softly, and put her hands on my shoulders. "You're my favorite person in the whole world... Don't tell Josh. But listen... you're being fucking awful, and it's gotta stop. They've moved on. You need to as well."