BLUE [BXB]

THREE

   The next day, right after practice, Ethan told Mason he was occupied and asked him to find another ride home. He didn't say anything, but his expression—a raised brow and lips pursed in confusion—told Ethan he would be pestering him about it later.

   It wasn't that Ethan didn't trust Mason; he really did. But what would he even have said?

   Oh, it's no big deal, man. Just want to creep on this guy I met yesterday for no apparent reason.

   Yeah, no.

   As soon as he was done with his shower, Ethan bolted out of the locker room and jogged up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

   Third classroom to your left.

   Sure enough, when Ethan round the corner and peered into the abandoned room, bright, bright blue eyes met his pale green ones, and his breath caught in his throat.

   Vincent's eyebrows shot up in surprise, arm frozen mid-stroke. "Ethan? The hell are you doing here?"

   At an attempt to buy himself some time, Ethan cleared his throat. The hell was he doing there?

   "I—um—I just wanted to...see if you wanted a ride home?" Ethan finished lamely, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile that looked more like a grimace.

   Vincent studied him intently for a while, eyes scanning his entire face, looking for something. Ethan squirmed, uncomfortable under the heat of his gaze.

   "Well, I'm almost done for the day. If you want, you can wait until I pack everything up."

   Ethan nodded his head, letting his eyes stray to the painting resting in front of Vincent. It was that of a seashore, the blue at the center almost as striking as his eyes. The whole landscape had red and orange undertones, giving it a golden hue, but the sun was nowhere to be seen.

   "Do you like it?" His voice—barely above a whisper—snapped Ethan out of his trance, and he looked to see a blush creeping up Vincent's neck.

   "I... Yeah, yeah. I really do. It's... amazing," Ethan responded, his eyes dancing from blue to blue.

   Vincent smiled bashfully, and looked back at the artwork in a way that can only be described as self-conscious. "Well, it's not even done yet, so..."

   "Why do you hang around in empty classrooms after school?" Ethan asked.

   "Well, it's usually quiet. Gives me enough peace to focus on painting," he replied, shooting Ethan a pointed look.

   "Can't you do it at home?"

   He scoffed. "Not without getting interrupted every few minutes. Although, it's not that much different with you here," he said, tone playful. Ethan stuck his tongue out at a chuckling Vincent.

   "You calling me annoying?"

   He clicked his tongue. "Maybe..."

   Ethan rolled his eyes. "Alright, Van Gogh. You ready to go?"

   "Van Gogh?" Vincent echoed. "Hm. I like that," he mused. "Let's go."

   The chilly air bit at Ethan's freshly showered body, making his teeth clatter. Vincent shot him a concerned look, but he didn't say anything.

   When they reached Ethan's car, he unlocked and climbed into it as if the Grim Reaper was at his feet. Instantaneously, he turned on the seat heaters and sighed as he felt his butt slowly getting warmer.