A Work Of Art - Katya X Reader

Part 8: The Group

The noise in your studio was deafening. The entire troupe that worked in Klub Katya had trickled into your apartment from as early as 8am - fucking hell, Trixie, why are you here already? - to Vanjie finally walking in the door at 11:20. You had scheduled for everyone to arrive at 10. By 12, you had organised everyone into their respective spots, with the help of Visage, and started snapping pictures. 

With a group of this many drag queens, with this much personality, you were finding yourself a little flustered. Shade was thrown from all angles, and in their playful arguments, they would shift from their spots. The lighting was shifting outside the window and you were losing the exact shadows you needed. As the queens babbled amongst themselves, you flicked through the pictures you had taken so far, brow heavily furrowed. "Let's um... Let's take a quick break, everyone," you offered, feeling your anxiety rising. 

Several queens peeled off to go smoke, and others collected at your kitchen to snack on the spread you had laid out for everyone. Trixie, redbull in hand, approached. 

"I'm surprised you haven't cracked yet," she chuckled. Glancing up, you gave a weak, half-hearted smile. She seemed to realise your stress was more genuine than she thought. Putting a hand on your shoulder, she sighed. "What's wrong?"

A ball of anxiety throbbed in your chest. "Nothing, really." 

She left the silence to linger, making you talk on your own accord. Eventually, you glanced around your apartment at everyone, briefly catching Michelle's eye. She paused, having known your anxious cues from your assessment periods. Her eyes flicked to Trixie, and it seemed she recognised that you were in good hands. She could help later, if she needed. 

"It's not coming together like I need it to."

Her hands closed over yours, stilling your frantic flipping between photos. "These are test photos, right?" You nodded. "So why do they have to be perfect? You're painting them later."

The calmness in her voice settled you some, but with a pained breath in, you looked up to her. "I need them to be perfect. If I am going to help you guys, help Katya, it has to be perfect." 

"And it will be, you just need to breathe through whatever mental breakdown you seem to be holding back." 

You made a face. "I'm not having a breakdown. I'm just nervous. I don't want to disappoint anybody. And I don't want to fail Katya, it means too much." She tilted her head to catch your eye. Her usually sharp brown eyes seemed soft, searching for something in your own. A small smile caught the corner of her very painted mouth. "What?" You were indignant. And a little self conscious. 

"Nothing. There's just not a lot of very soft people in Katya's life. Kind. Helpful. All that shit. But soft is a new one." You went to argue, but she waved her hand, telling you very politely to shut up. "I think she needs someone like you around. And for that, I know you aren't going to fail. Now, if you need me to, I can wrangle these bitches into submission. I'm more of a power bottom, but anything for you, babe," she winked. 

Laughing, the tension in your body dissipating a little, you nodded. "That would be great. We're running out of time, and I need to start painting tonight." 

She nodded, turning on her heel to go and gather the troops. Your phone buzzed on the stool you had been setting your things down on. Katya's name lit the screen. Picking it up, you gestured for everyone to hush a little. "Hello? Is everything okay?"

"No, Mary, I am desperately bored and everyone sucks. Surely you can leave whatever archaic academic system you're slaving away in to get a coffee with me before I open the club?"

Your heart sank. "Why does everyone suck?" You had a sneaking suspicion, and if you were right, there would be no placating him. 

"Well," she muttered. "I guess they don't suck, they just have bigger priorities. I'm just a needy little whore is all. Which is why I need you, whore." Ignoring the flutter in your brain at the idea that he wanted your attention, you sighed. "Don't say you can't. Please?" His 'please' was shockingly genuine, sinking the stone in your chest down to your stomach. 

"Brian, I-." You were cut off by Trixie.

"Can you hurry it up?" You shot her a murderous look.

There was dead air. 

"Was that Trixie?" There was hurt in his tone. 

"Um, well, yes, but-."

"I thought you were studying. If the pair of you had better things to do, you could have said so." You held your breath. "Never mind," he whispered. 

You jumped in, afraid he would hang up. "Brian." 

You heard the snick of his lighter through the phone. "I have shit to do anyway." The phone beeped and went silent, he hung up. You groaned, tapping to phone to your forehead, frustrated. Eyes shot to Trixie, you could tell she knew she'd fucked up. 

Collecting your camera, you tried to focus. "Okay, let's get these photos done, okay? And fucking one of you needs to come up with a good excuse as to why Katya's not heard from you all."

Michelle, steely, started to direct the girls herself, not having known everyone had ditched Katya. Now worried, she then excused herself to go see her. 

With barely any daylight to spare, and the girls finally leaving a couple hours later, you sat, forlorn, in front of your canvas of Katya. You could barely concentrate. Picking up your phone, tucking your wet brush behind your ear, you checked your messages. All left delivered, not seen. Would it be weird to call your teacher? Fuck it. 

The line rang a moment, before she picked up. "She's okay," she immediately soothed. "She's working right now, and had a nice long chat with Trixie. But she'll call you later."

In relief, you sighed. "I feel like a dick."

"But you aren't, kiddo. You're doing the right thing. If we tell her what we're doing, she's going to reject it, she won't take any money we raise. She's a stubborn, too-proud drag queen. That's a hard person to convince. And since she owns the place, it's her word what happens. It has to be a surprise." 

"I hate lying, Michelle. He sounded so hurt today."

She chuckled. "You are a sensitive kid, I hope you hold onto that." You queried what she meant. "Well, I just think you're a good person. I think you're a fantastic student, but I think you're a better person. And that's a very important thing to be."

This brought a small, proud smile to your face. Michelle seemed like such a harsh tutor, and always pushed everyone to be the best, never accepting less than what she knew could be. But she was also, underneath the stoic educator, maternal, and kind. Tom would shit his pants if he knew. 

"Thank you, Visage." 

"Listen, I can't say too much, but accept Brian's call later, he needs it." 

You nodded. "Of course. Yeah, no worries."

"Alright, I have some papers to grade, but I'll see you in class on Monday."

You smiled. "Yes ma'am." 

With new vigor, you set to your painting, swathing paint over paint, waiting for your phone to buzz again.