Yet You're my Favorite Work of Art

Chapter Four

I dreamt about him. His dilated eyes, his messed up hair, his swollen lips. We weren't in the art room this time, it was my bed, the bed I've spent all these years alone in. Well, ever since Jon left, of course. The blankets were kicked aside down at our feet, which were intertwined awkwardly, yet it fit right. His body was curled against mine, his head on my chest. His eyes fluttered open and shut, glazed over. I guess there wasn't much sleeping done. In this dream, I was a better man. I had to have been, since no man in their right mind would be attached to me in that way. And there he was, looking like an actual god as he slept.

I wake up in a pool of sweat, groaning as my joints crack in some disturbed form of a good morning. I sit up and looked around the room, my vision slowly correcting itself. My head hurts like a bitch. I swing my legs over so they hang off the side of the bed, my feet just reaching the floor below, ground me, almost. My toes curl into the carpet as I lift myself up and cross the room. I shuffle into the kitchen and feel around the wall for the light switch. It turns on and I'm blinded by the light.

I lean against the counter as the coffee brews, thinking about my dream, that motherfucking dream, the one that I bet will haunt me for the rest of my day.

And then I groan, remembering my plans for the rest of the day. I have to meet Ashley to discuss a gallery opening and sponsoring it, then I have to talk with Brendon again about his gallery, and then hopefully Gee will come by so I can moan and groan about my issues.

The coffee pot beeps and I quickly pour it into a mug. I bring it over to the couch and open my laptop, going onto the gallery's website. I'm greeted by Brendon's smiling face. He's posed next to one of his paintings. I scroll down and see a picture of me and Ashley that I don't quite remember taking. There's another of me talking with Brendon. One more of me storming out of the gallery.

Yellow Submarine comes playing through the room and I race into the bedroom.

"Hello?"

"Did you just wake up?"

I squint and rub my forehead. "Who's this?"

"It's Brendon."

My eyes fly back open and I have to sit back down on the bed. "How'd you get my number?"

He grunts quietly, like he's sitting down on something. "Ashley gave it to me. I want to talk about yesterday."

"Well, I don't."

He chuckles and I lay back down on the bed. Fuck. "Well, I feel like we really need to, asshole."

"Well, you're coming over later, right?"

"Yeah."

"We can talk then. Not at.. Whatever time it is now."

"It's almost noon, Ryan."

"Oh fuck. Just come over later, I'm not dealing with this shit now."

"Fine." He sighs. "I'll see you later. Get your shit together." He hangs up and I'm left laying there, as confused as ever. I throw the phone onto a pile of clothes and go into the closet, taking out a towel. It's noon, I might as well shower and get moving.

--

The water splashes against my skin and I jump back a little bit, putting my hand onto the wall to try and balance myself so I don't completely wipe out in my fucking shower. My body adjusts to the temperature and I just stand under the water. It feels nice. So nice, I momentarily forget where I am. That is, until the bathroom door opens.

"Gee! Get out!"

"Ahhhh!" She simply says and the door slams shut again. I finish up quickly and turn the water off, wrapping the towel around my waist. I sigh and push the door open. Gee is sitting in the living room on her phone. She looks up when I walk in.