Memento Mori (MxM)

Chapter 7

The following morning when Calael woke, he was greeted by a beam of intense sunlight shining in through the crack in the blinds, making him squint and groan softly. "Artemus.. You didn't shut the drapes," he murmured, stretching out his arms with a yawn. However, as he glanced over he saw that the bed was empty, and the duvet was made perfectly.  Artemus must have already got up. 

Calael's gaze was promptly drawn to his phone on the arm of the chair, his LED flashing blue. Upon investigation, he was greeted by an onslaught of emails from clients. A sick feeling came over him at the vast number of requests regarding when his next auction or gallery event would be, what his next range was going to feature, and a few distinguished members of the clientele daring to request specified colour pallets to match their opulent, middle class homes. Though he himself was raised in an undeniably wealthy environment, Calael had far more of a respect for new money than old money. It just so happened that his new-money family, who had kick started him in the world of art by trusted word of mouth, happened to mix socially with both.

Somehow to the rich and extravagant an undiscovered, unknown young artist recommended by a fellow purveyor of extravagance was far more tasteful and delightfully bohemian than one simply trying to get by without help. Calael was known now in the world of art, not just for his last name but for his particular style, which had gained attention quickly once it was purchased and displayed in the right social circles. After a few years of consistency and notoriety, forcing his introversion not to become a hindrance at the events where he would popularise himself, one painting could earn him hundreds if not a thousand or more. With art as a full time career, he'd had plenty of time to produce his work.

That was, before the incident. Now, the thought of dragging himself to a gallery party trying to charm people he couldn't stand was one equal to dragging himself out in the middle of a lightning storm wearing a suit of copper armor.

Worst of all however, he lacked motivation. He'd expected to be flooded with the renowned inspirational power of nature upon moving to the countryside, but instead he was stuck for any kind of subject matter for his art. Art was his pride and joy, but after Harry's death, everything joyous in his life had lost a little of it's sparkle. Yesterday, painting the peonies on the wall for Artemus, had been his first real reminder of how fulfilled he was by his chosen career. How dearly he'd missed it. He just needed to find some goddamn inspiration to get him back on track..

Sighing softly, he pulled himself up from the armchair and cracked his back as he made his way to the mirror, regarding his tired features for a brief moment. Past his square, stubbled jaw, waves of brown hair and his roman nose, were the lingering ghost of blue eye bags that had stuck with him for months. They were only slightly alleviated these past two days, having slept undeniably better with another person present.

After washing his face, dressing himself in jeans and a jumper, and actually bothering to drag a comb back through his hair for the first time in a while, he headed downstairs, to find Artemus hard at work making breakfast in the kitchen. He seemed to be struggling to work the newly renovated appliances to some degree but thankfully there was no burning smell, just the scent of bacon and sausages; a full English breakfast. It was almost enough to make his mouth water, his mind returning to the comforting thoughts of his childhood home. His mother was a persistent vegetarian, but every Sunday when she went to her yoga classes him and his dad would sneak an array of meat into the oven and go wild. It was their little secret, and he'd always looked forward to Sunday morning.

"Cooking up a storm?" Calael asked, leaning against the doorway and folding his arms.

Artemus turned around promptly, and chuckled upon hearing his own words quoted back to him. "Well good morning to you too, sunshine. I hope you don't mind, I wanted to cook breakfast today, since you slept in the chair all night.. I'm terribly sorry I fell asleep so fast - I must have been in a jolly good mood. You should have just gotten into the bed anyway, I feel rather guilty!"