Heterochromic Haze

7- Ocean dream or painted memory

"Come over this evening."

I glance over curiously, absently sliding my pen into my top pocket.

Amyas is watching me with an anxious expression, his eyes imploring.

"Alright, what do you want to do?" I ask and he shrugs.

Amyas doesn't invite me over a lot, only when he really needs me, and I get it. I don't really like people in my space either. Whenever I have a model, I tend to do most of my work at their place or in the studio.

With the exception of Everett.

I choose not to dwell on that one.

"How about we swap? I'll paint and you sculpt." I say and he rolls his eyes.

"You can't paint for shit." He says and I look at him in outrage.

"Alright, can't wait to see your sculpture Mr Big Shot." I say and he grins, nodding.

I grab a bag of clay as Amyas tucks a canvas under his arm.

Our tutor waves us out, not bothered by the supplies tucked inconspicuously under our arms.

"See you tomorrow, James!" Amyas calls and I glance at our fellow art student, ignoring his girlfriend, Marie's, glare as I do.

He nods, waving at the both of us.

"You should apologise to her." Amyas mumbles and I scoff.

"I did. She should let it go." I mutter and he hums.

"James doesn't care, so why does she? He consented and I didn't know they had a thing going." I mumble and he laughs.

"I think if it were the other way around he would care." He says and I shrug.

"It could be the other way round. Do you think that would help?" I say, grinning as he whacks me.

"Stop sleeping with people." Amyas says, glaring at me.

"Alright, alright."

We walk through the park to Amyas' place and I whinge the whole way there. As soon as we step foot inside I throw down the bag of clay dramatically, falling onto Amyas' bed.

"Get off." He says, swatting me and I roll off with a groan.

Amyas sets up his favourite playlist whilst I help myself to his precious paints. He is going to hate every moment of this.

I open up his fridge, perusing his selection of food before selecting a mini roll, stuffing it in my face. I take another one out, chucking it at him. It smacks him in the face, causing me to almost choke on chocolate sponge.

"Get out of my fridge, you're like a fucking raccoon." He says and I grin.

He sets up an easel for me, eyeing up the paintbrush that I'm twirling between my fingers. I set up a little table in return, thumping the clay onto it and grab a small dish of water. Finally, I lay out my precious tools, knowing Amyas will be careful.

"Right, so what are we doing this time?" He asks and I hum.

"Whatever we want? We both know that using each other for models doesn't work well." I say, smiling at the grimace on his face.

"I wouldn't model for you again if you paid me." He grumbles.

He plonks himself down on the stool I set up for him, looking pretty forlorn at his lack of paint. I stretch my neck out, tucking the paintbrush behind my ear and grabbing a pencil as I ponder upon a scene for my painting. I decide on the only image that is ever present in my head. Everett.

We work in relative silence, the music providing a steady, even rhythm. As soon as I'm happy with my sketch I move on to the paints, trying to do the image in my head justice.

I frown as I take twenty minutes trying to make just the right blue, adding yet more of Amyas' expensive white paint as it still eludes me. It feels like weeks ago I was seeing him for the first time, and I knew then what I know now.

That blue eye, the colour that would simply be too much should it be replicated in the other, impossible to reproduce in anything other than a dream or a memory.

I smile as I hear Amyas cuss under his breath, glancing up to find him struggling with the leg of a horse.

I abandon my hopeless task and help him out, smoothing his fingers in the right places.

I bite my lip, thinking about just how different this would be if a different Hayes brother was sat in front of me.

In return he meanders over, taking a look at my easel. He doesn't laugh, instead freezing, apparently shocked by the likeness I've managed to create in the paint.

He silently helps me mix my paints, managing to create just what I had envisioned in just a few seconds. It's not exact, but it'll do.

I'm just finishing up on the canvas when a key jolts in the lock, a voice calling out almost immediately.

"Amyas? Sorry I'm late, I didn't see your text. Are you alright?" He asks, stopping dead in his tracks when he spots us. My painting is long forgotten, my eyes eating up every inch of his flustered appearance.

"Hey Everett, I'm fine." Amyas says casually, not bothering to look up from his sculpture.

"I can see that." He says, shifting his weight uneasily. He meets my eyes before quickly looking away and I tilt my head curiously.

"Uh, so if you don't need me I'll just..." He begins, but Amyas looks up at him desperately, cutting him off.

"Actually, I need to head out." I say suddenly, cleaning Amyas' brushes haphazardly. It doesn't really matter, I know he'll be cleaning them again once I'm gone.

I squiggle my name in the bottom right hand corner with the back of the brush before tucking it behind my ear.

I grab my bag and head over to Amyas, examining his work.

It's not bad, but it's definitely not good either. I don't think horses are supposed to to be wonky, but it could be passible if labelled as surrealist. Maybe.

I reach out, unable to resist and manage to mould the neck into a more realistic shape. Amyas narrows his eyes, smacking me away and I hold up my hands in surrender.

"I'll see you tomorrow." I murmur, holding out my elbow and he bumps it with his, smiling happily.

"Thanks, Ledger." He mumbles and I nod.

A glance at Everett tells me everything I need to know. He has it from here. I turn away when Amyas' voice calls me back.

"Ledge."

His voice is stern and when I meet his eyes, he gestures to his ear.

I grin, fishing the paintbrush from it's position in my hair. I grimace slightly, knowing I'll find white streaks in my hair for days. I hand it over to him, ignoring his pained expression.

I head for the door and swing it open before remembering something. When I wander back, I find Everett staring at my canvas.

"Everett?" I ask and his head snaps towards me, his expression flustered.

"I still need you." I say. He stares at me, his lips pursing together as he swallows visibly.

"What?" He asks hoarsely and I smile teasingly.

"For the sculpture? Let me know when you're available." I say softly.

He frowns, nodding slowly and I grin, flashing him a wink before ducking out and closing the door behind me.