Criminal VS. Criminal || мαℓιк

39. Auction

39. Auction

   I never really realized how things can become so old and boring in seconds. And, I guess, I never really noticed it. I never really paid attention long enough to see if it got better. It never really concerned me how something ended up. Not my problem, not my business. Because it was true; Why would I stay around for something that doesn't concern me anymore?

   That's how I felt about Zayn. He was all healed up and healthier than ever. His shoulder wasn't wrapped up anymore and his cells were all in recovery. The only thing left was for him to actually wake up. At first, everyone was concerned about him. He's not waking up when he should be. Slowly, everyone came to the realization that he would wake up when the time was right. If it was right.

   My visits to the hospital slowly came to a halt. He'd be lucky if I visited him twice in one week. Or if I stayed for three hours. He reacted the same way every time I tried to make a move. If I gently touched his arm, the his heart monitor would go into shock and call in nurses. It was like he didn't want me there. So, I let myself believe what everyone was believing the whole time. 

   He didn't want me there.

+ + +

   "Max, come on, get ready!" Louis called as he pranced into my apartment. I groaned, shifting in my bed. I could hear Niall's aggravated sigh from the main floor. I heard the footsteps and the mutters they exchanged as they climbed up the ladder onto my loft bedroom. I felt the bed dip and someone's arms wrap around me. "Niall! She won't get up if you cuddle her!"

   "But, I'm tired, too. Plus, Max looks so comfy in Zaynie's clothes. Like, why didn't he let me borrow any? I mean, we totally had a connection that they didn't have. Zayniekins totally called me cute that one time. So why does she get his clothes and not me?" Niall joked as he burrowed his head into my neck. I giggled, burrowing myself deeper into my blankets.

   That's the thing about Niall. Even though we were all traumatized by Zayn's coma, he managed to make us all smile. Like, seriously. None of us needed any therapy or love partner to make us happy. Niall was basically dating us all. Niall is just that much of a good person. He is so kind. It is unbelievable.

   Like he let boyfriend number one, Harry, cuddle him during reruns of his sappy movies. He lets boyfriend number two, Louis, sing to him when he's feeling tired. And he does boyfriend number three's laundry. Because Liam is an idiot with the washing machine. And when boyfriend number four was here, he let him carry him around like a princess. Yes, Niall can be classified as the best thing that's ever happened to us.

      "Max, we have an auction to attend!" Louis whines, throwing himself on the other side of my bed. I ignore him, still upset at the last auction that took place. I flip my body around, burrowing myself into Niall's chest. "I swear it's not like the last one!"

   "Louis, you bid me off four twenty-five thousand dollars for charity last time. I don't mind that it was for charity, but next time, please make sure the guy who buys me isn't some fifty-eight year-old creeper." 

   "It's an art auction."

   I spring out of our sandwich cuddle, running around the floor. I tug some drawers open, pulling any formal looking clothes out. I rip the over-sized button up that still smells like Zayn off my body, tossing it onto the floor. I pull on a red button up and a short black skirt. I pull my hair out of the high bun, making sure the curls look naturally messy because, well, they are. I slip on some black heels before turning around to face the two boys with drool down their chins.

   "How do I look?" I ask, doing a little twirl. Niall is quick to react, wiping the drool off his face and trying his best to compose himself. Meanwhile, Louis ends up babbling like an idiot with spit flying off all over the place. Both boys flush a deep scarlet.

   "You look great." Louis smiles, standing up and pulling Niall with him. "If I knew you were gonna get up this fast, I should've just said those two words," Louis jokes, starting to climb down the loft ladder. Niall goes after and I go last. As I go down, I hear Louis shout. "Niall, stop staring at her ass and climb down!"

+ + +

   "So, who's the artist?" I ask as we walk into the formal hall. There's girls with their parents, eyeing the two boys in suits beside me. Niall has his a poker face on, trying his best to not fidget in his itchy suit. Meanwhile, Sassy Pants is walking around trying his best not to criticize people. We look rather stunning.

   "You," Niall says before dragging me up to the podium. My mouth drops, watching as Niall and Louis scurry over to their seats in the front. I take a peek under one of the cloths that cover the paintings, realizing those are in fact my paintings. I turn back to the podium, seeing as the whole place is settling down and everyone is taking their seats. I clear my throat, shyly going up to the mic.

   "Well, um. . ." I trail off, looking for Louis and Niall for assistance. They're mouthing words that look like "fondue" and "cheeseburger." Oh my God, They should've told me. I could've prepared at flabbergasting speech for the crowd. I quietly sigh to myself. Better wing this, I think to myself. I cough. 

   "Thank you all for coming today." I start, my eyes trailing over the crowd of mostly old rich people. "I must say, everyone looks dashing and gorgeous. well, um. Let's start the bidding, yeah?" People in the audience nod. I walk over to the first art piece. I pull the cloth off, tossing it to the side. There's gasps in the crowd. Some people bring their spectacles up to their faces, nodding. I gulp.

   "Okay, this piece is called, erm. . ." I eye the painting. It's a painting of a couple walking through a sidewalk in the forests. The trees are mostly shades of dark blue. The two streetlights set of an orange glow. Think of a name, think of a name! "This piece is called Embers in the Forest because of the color the lights give off onto the trees." People agree in the audience. "How about we start with, um, 200 pounds?"

   A guy in the audience raises his hand. "200 pounds!" A lady sitting in the back raises her arm. "250!" Another lady shouts out "350!" This continues until we're up to ten thousand dollars. The bidding slowly dies down. I gulp when no one says anything else. I'm about to sell the piece to the guy (who looks really young), when I hear someone else. 

   "Twenty thousand dollars!" Someone shouts from the doorway. Everyone gasps, turning their attention to whoever said it. And, I'm not going to lie, I nearly flipped the podium when I saw who it was. 

[Next chapter is going to be dramatic. Just a heads up. Anyway, THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL. In Fall. .-. Enjoy this chapter, because the next one is the last.]