Dreamless in Early Graves (Vic Fuentes / Kellic) ✔️

Chapter 4: The Gallery

"Are we seriously at a museum right now?" Vic murmured incredulously, eyeing the surrounding glass room that we just walked into.

"No, this is an art gallery." I simply corrected him. I had convinced him yet again that I wanted to go somewhere that would've been utterly boring to visit on my own, and that it would probably be more entertaining to him than cleaning my house, so here we were. . . at an art gallery.

He shot me a confused look. "What's the difference?"

I snorted, taking his hand and dragging him to a wall that had several paintings of the same artist lined in a row. "The difference, dear Victor, is that a museum is filled with collections of usually objects, which aren't necessarily art." I explained to him, and then pointed at the paintings. "This, is a collection of purely art, which is why it is stalled out in an art gallery."

"Right. . . a very boring art gallery."

I rolled my eyes and dragged him further into the big hall. We passed a statue that stood centered in the huge, lit up room, and something interesting caught my eye.

"Look at this. . ." I said, cocking my head to the painting in front of me. Vic glanced at it and frowned. "What do you see?" I asked him.

"A red stain on a white piece of paper." He murmured blatantly.

I sighed. "There's more to it than that." I urged, letting go of him and crossing my arms over my chest as I examined the painting. "Can't you see the aggression in the way that the red covers the canvas?"

Vic's frown turned into an even darker one, as he plumped down on the small stone bench behind him. "What I see is that someone aggressively snorted their bloody nose onto a white sheet, and thought; hey, I can probably sell this to some crazy person who actually thinks that it's art."

I chuckled, shaking my head in amusement. I honestly should've been expecting an answer like that. The man had no appreciation for art, even if it was indeed a simple piece. I liked it, though. . . his blatant humor as well as the painting.

"Hey, you!" Vic then suddenly called out to the curator that walked around aimlessly. "What's the price of this thing?" He asked.

The curator came a little closer and looked at the painting before us. "Twenty-thousand dollars." He said, like it was nothing. Which to him, it was.

Vic's eyes practically bugged out of his skull, which was immensely amusing to me. "You're telling me that this thing costs twenty-thousand dollars!?" He questioned, making sure he'd heard it correctly.

The curator nodded in response. "I believe so, but I would have to check it to make sure."

"Yeah, go do that." Vic then said, waving a hand dismissively at the man. "Because that price can't possibly be right."

I laughed softly as the curator scurried off. I could tell that Vic came from a much different lifestyle than my own, which wasn't unusual. But it was, however, very amusing to me. Which was precisely why I had brought him here.

"I like it." I voiced my opinion, causing a sarcastic 'ha' to erupt from Vic's throat in response.

"You were right, I was wrong about the price. . ." The curator admitted when he came back to us. To which Vic responded with a gesture that looked somewhat like an I-told-you-so. "It's actually thirty-one-thousand and five-hundred dollars."

"Are you for real!?" Vic then exclaimed. "What crazy person would pay that much money for something like this!?"

I bit back a grin and tried my best to keep a straight face. "I'm buying it." I decided, telling the curator.