Coming to the National Gallery on a Saturday wasn’t my best idea to date. If you combine a tourist attraction which had no entrance fee with the fact that next to no one was at work at this time of week, you get a hubbub of people filing up the gallery space. Chris hadn’t forgiven me yet.
The two of us had just finished wading our way through the people soup which had accumulated in Trafalgar Square outside the National Gallery, where people had gathered to sit on the steps to eat lunch whilst watching the pigeons fly about, the fountains trickle, and small children trying to climb onto the backs of the lion statues. Therefore, finding space to place your feet on any of the numerous steps leading to the gallery itself became quite an issue. I led the way through these people, but I could hear Chris muttering curses under his breath to me and whenever I turned to look at him, I found him glaring at me.
When we reached the foyer of the gallery, Chris looked ready to throttle me. I think he would have done just that if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of people present who could report such an incident.
“Can we go and get my mocha now?” Chris grumbled as we both glanced around the sea of people that were milling around us.
I rolled my eyes as I spied the sign which indicated towards the direction of the café. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take your mocha with you. You could just stay in the café until I’m finished?”
“And what would be the fun in that?” Chris smirked, folding his arms as he watched me intently. “I can’t irritate you nearly as much from the comfort of that café. You can get me a mocha later.”
“How gentlemanly of you,” I sighed as I looked for a different sign to point me in the direction of the gift shop. “I need to go to the gift shop first, though.”
“But we only just got here! Gift shops are meant to be the last place you go to.”
“Well maybe I need to get something from the gift shop to use as we go around the gallery,” I said grandly as we followed the direction that the signs pointed towards and made for the gift shop.
Chris frowned at me as he tailed me into the shop. “Are you enjoying how you’re winding me up or is that just a package deal with you?”
I shook my head at him in amusement as we entered the gift shop. “I’m offended. We’ve known each other for over a week now, and you honestly don’t know the answer to that?”
“I know that you’re a pain in the arse.”
“Thanks. I’d say the same thing about you.”
The gift shop had a roof made of glass, which let natural light fill out the room and expose the artwork themed products. There were Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’ themed bags, Monet’s ‘Water lilies’ print jewellery, and a number of different types of stationery that had the National Gallery logo on them. Merchandise was stored on white panelled tables around the room, each object owning its own little compartment and price tag. Everything was just so white and pristine that it forced me to squint for a moment. I almost dared not step inside the room in the fear that I’d leave boot marks somewhere or another, or I’d knock one of the suspended wall displays over.
“This is fancy,” Chris said, his voice going slightly higher at the end of his comment. He put his hands behind his back and strolled into the middle of the gift shop.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. Spending any time at all with Chris was hard work. This was largely due to his large personality, which dimmed anyone else out until they became white noise when he entered the room, but also the whole crush thing… In the moments where he didn’t drive me insane from how he mocked me and picked on me, he was adorable. It might just be his looks which were getting to me (because even a complete stranger would have to admit that he’s a very good-looking man) but then again, I don’t think I’d fall for a guy just because of their looks. Despite how much I hated practically everything which went on around me, and hated how I was internally, I knew for one that I was not vain. I didn’t categorise people depending on how they looked. To me, everyone had a certain sense of beauty about them, and yet, that didn’t mean that I found everyone attractive.
YOU ARE READING
Procrastinators on Stage (Chris Kendall/crabstickz fanfic) *unedited*
Fanfiction(Book 3 of the Procrastinators Series, set in September 2014 -but can be read independently from the series-) "Relationships end. Relationships end in three ways: you split up, one of you dies, or you get married. There's a two out of three chance t...