You Can't Choose (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Seventeen

When Collier got to work on Saturday, he was wearing his own shirt, one from an anime that he kept at Ian's incase he ever slept over and needed a change of cloths, and for the first time, it felt wrong. Wrong to be wearing something that Henry Stone hadn't ever worn.

Before leaving, he had actually almost changed back into the green shirt, though Ian had taken it from him to throw into the wash before he could. There was no way that Cole would just be leaving Henry's shirt at Ian's until the next time he slept there, so he told Ian he'd stop back after work and pick it up.

"What is it with this shirt," Ian had demanded after hearing Collier's plans to return later that day. "It doesn't even fit you".

"It's comfortable," had been Cole's lame excuse, though Ian seemed to buy it since his shoulders shrugged and he promised to have it washed in time for his return.

Still, Cole wished he was still wearing the shirt, especially when he entered The Gallery and Jake paused to look at him, his eyes dropping to his shirt and narrowing. "Anime?"

"Uh," Collier looked down at himself and then nodded. "Yeah, anime".

"Cool". Jake turned back to his easel and Collier approached him to see what he was working on.

"Why are you always here so early?" Collier questioned, noticing how far along the other boy was on his painting already.

"Nothing better to do in the morning," Jake said with a shrug, chewing his lip as he added blue to the eyes on his portrait.

"Sleep?" Cole suggested, and that got him a smile from the handsome boy.

"I'm an early riser". Jake glanced at him nervously and Collier's eyebrows raised in question, but Jake didn't seem to notice, too lost in his own thoughts.

It was concerning to him that his friend was acting so strange, but assuming it was none of his business (since they weren't that close as friends), Collier continued with his regular routine.

He went into the back room, chose a canvas, a paint brush, and picture, taking his time just in case Jake needed to compose himself before he came back.

But still, when Collier returned, the other boy was the same. Nervous, chewing his lip, glancing at Cole out of the corner of his eye when he thought he wasn't paying attention, but Collier couldn't help but pay attention and notice every irregularity in Jake's behavior.

It was towards the end of their extremely quiet and long eight hour shift (hours went by slowly when there was minimal talking) when Collier finally asked what was going on with him.

Petra had just stumbled down the stairs, drunk off her ass, when Collier had made a joke about how he wondered what he would be like drunk, seeing as he already fell when walking down the stairs without alcohol, as Jake had seen the week before at the end of their shift. It was a really stupid joke, one that few people (Sarah, Emerson, Ian, maybe his mother, Henry if he was in a good mood, most definitely himself, and Jake) would laugh at, but Jake didn't make a noise. "What's up with you today?" Collier asked, lifting his finished painting off of the easel and waiting for Jake to do the same.

He did, and they walked in silence for a moment towards the room where they were to leave their paintings to dry. "Nothing's up with me," Jake claimed, though it wasn't very convincing. Collier smiled at him as he opened the door to the small room.

"If nothing was up with you, you wouldn't have waited so long to answer the question". Once both of their portraits were set down and they had left the room, meaning Collier had no chance of accidentally destroying one of the fresh paintings, he bumped his shoulder against Jake's playfully. "Come on, Jake. What's up?"