the last brushstroke destroys the painting [muke af]

twelve

twelve

Michael stepped up to the gallery downtown. It was an all white room, perfectly placed lights shining on masterpieces. He looked around, upset that there were only a dozen or so people looking around the room.

He took steps in, admiring the first few paintings. Luke deserves so much credit, yet he gets none. Everything was perfect on every single canvas. It all wrapped together, the color palettes perfect, the saturation and highlighting pristine. He sculpted his artwork in the best way, so aesthetically pleasing to the eyes.

Luke nudged Ashton with his hip, quickly pointing to the boy with purple hair. "That's Michael," he said.

The brunette whistled lowly, "Oh, shit, I'm gon' get laid."

Luke punched him in the chest.

"Just kidding, just kidding! But, I am gonna go meet him."

Luke pulled him back, "No, you're gonna say something stupid." He let go of the sleeve of Ashton's tee shirt. Unlike Michael's galleries, Luke's were low-key. The blonde boy was in ripped jeans and a muscle tee, since that's all he seemed to own.

"I wanna see if he'll talk shit about you. If he doesn't, then I can trust him with you. If he does, I'm gonna break his pretty round nose." Ashton smiled at his roommate as he began to walk towards the wealthy artist once more.

Luke covered his eyes and turned around, not willing to see this all go down. He didn't want Michael's pristine nose broken and bleeding. It'd make for a good painting though. Blood made paintings something special.

Ash stood only inches away from Michael, pretending to look at the painting he remembers watching Luke create at an early hour. It was Michael in the painting, it was obviously Mike. "What do you think of this?"

Michael turned to man-bun, "You're Ashton," He stated. He recognized him from the few times the brunette answered their door instead of his blonde bombshell.

Ash hid his smile and giggle. "Maybe." He pointed at the art, "Do you realize this is you?"

"Does Luke know you're telling me this?"

"Nope, let's keep it that way." Ash winked at him as he moved towards the next one. "He paints you so delicately, isn't it beautiful?" Ashton wasn't sure if he was trying to be Luke's wingman or trying to hear Mike speak of the other boy.

"I wish I could be even half the artist as him. He crafts such a horrifying character like myself so beautifully."

"You're his beauty in an ugly world," Ashton stated. He pointed at a close up portrait of Michael. All the colors were in hues of blue and green, his cheekbones sharp yet eyes sharper. "I think he's quite infatuated with you."

Mike shrugged, "I'm not sure."

Ashton pulled on his arm, dragging him further in the exhibit. He cleared his voice with a cough before speaking once more in a ridiculously deep voice. "If you look to your left, you'll see the artist's favorite labeled 'punk rock trash.'"

Michael laughed, "No way." He stepped closer, reading the label on another obvious portrait of himself. "I am punk rock trash."

Ash patted his back, "Aren't these amazing?"

"I'm gonna buy everything, don't tell him." Michael continued to walk at a slow pace, not understanding how such a talented boy never got the right recognition. If he were Luke, he'd probably kill someone out of anger. Okay, maybe that's a little extreme.

"Really?"

"Fuck, he deserves so much more."

Luke watched Michael from the corner of his eye, he was in an in-depth conversation with Man-Bun. Michael tilted his head back with laughter, his bellowing voice echoing through the high rafters.

Their eyes met, and Mike stood up straight once more. He gave a smile in Luke's direction before excusing himself from his conversation with Ashton. With Mike's back turned, Ash gave Luke an obnoxious thumbs up. The brunette understand why Luke came home with hearts in his eyes after every date.

"This is amazing," Michael said as he got closer. He pulled Luke into a hug, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

Luke blushed, "Thank you. I hope everyone else does, too. If I'm going to be honest, I'm kind of scared."

"I know this will sell out, don't worry."

The blonde shook his head from left to right, "That has never happened. Not even when I was young and had, like, two pieces of art in a show."

Michael held out his arms, pointing at all the glorious masterpieces. "These are not some immature painting from the seventh grade, babe."

When Michael called Luke pet names, Luke definitely felt like he was in the seventh grade. Luke did not want to date, he did not want to be anything official with Michael. It was a slight embarrassment to be dating an eighteen-year-old; he was a child.

Plus, Luke can never love someone else when he doesn't even love himself.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Thanks."

Michael fell so hard for Luke, he scraped his knees.

Metaphorically.

He stood next to him, a hand resting peacefully on the dimples near his back. Their two eyes watched over the handful of guests. And, in the end, Michael bought everything left.