Waiting For You

Chapter Ten

"I've found a natural drug for all of my panic, anxiety, and anger. It's his voice. It's him".

~J.R. Rogue

Alex

"You still haven't told me where exactly we are going," Hunter whined once again. "I mean, spending our one-month anniversary skipping school is great, but I don't even know where we are going". He went on and I rolled my eyes.

"Well, I can tell you that we are going somewhere where we don't have to hide," I replied and run my knuckles over his cheek.

"Good. An actual date is something I've been looking forward to. Don't get me wrong, I love hiding in the bushes near the fountain, but for some reason, I long to walk in the sun with you".

"How poetic..." I mused, laughing. "There will be a lot of walking, but not in the sun," I dragged, making him squint at me.

"You're mean," he whined and his head fell back with a groan.

"Okay, close your eyes," I told him a few minutes later.

"Excuse me?"

"Close your goddamn eyes, Hunter Anderson," I repeated with a smile and I heard him laugh. A few moments later, I parked and turned to him. "Hold on one minute".

I got out of my car, walked around to his side, opened the door and helped him out. His eyes were still closed, but I placed my hands over them, to be sure.

"I swear to God if you throw me in the ocean..." he growled and I laughed.

"Okay... open them now," I told him and took away my hands. Hunter was left looking with bugged eyes and a hanging jaw.

"Alex!" he exclaimed and turned around to hug me. "The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art?!"

"I remembered you telling me you've never been here, so here we are," I told him.

"Thank you," he whispered and leaned in to give me a gentle, but quick, kiss.

I wasn't much of an art geek. I appreciated it and I could understand it, but strokes of brushes against canvases didn't excite me. What did excite me, though, was a well-made and passionately executed music score. It could be a studio-made full-on instrumental and vocal piece, but it could also be a single piano song. As long as I could hear the artist's soul and need to perform, then I appreciated it.

Being here at this Art Museum wasn't my Heaven. Far from it, to be exact. And yet, sitting back and watching Hunter go around, examining every art piece as if it was God's work... was better than my Heaven. I loved how his eyes danced over the pieces and how his lips would pull back as he noticed something I never would. This was so much better.

"Hasn't your mother told you that staring is rude?" Hunter told me without turning his gaze to me. I smiled, very aware of much I was staring at him.

From experience, I knew this place took at least three hours to explore on its whole. At this point, we had gone through half of it and we had spent two hours. Hunter sure did take his time to examine every piece as if his life depended on it.

"Grandpa Clifford used to bring me here all the time," I said, not answering his question. His smile wavered for a moment and his eyes fell on me. "He said it would do me good... to be close to art," I added and laughed in a bitter tone. Then, making my voice deeper to mimic my grandfather's I said, "Alex, with parents like yours, you need to cultivate your artistic character on your own. That pair matched in Hell cannot interfere with your future".

"Pair matched in Hell?!" Hunter exclaimed with a raised eyebrow.

"My father and he had a falling out way before I was born. Before my parents even found each other. You see, Clifford was also an artist, a photographer. He wanted to capture as much beauty as he could. Due to that, he traveled a lot and my father practically grew up without him. Dad grew to hate the passion for art. And grandpa... he reached a point in his life where he couldn't reason with my father," I explained, not holding his gaze. "Seeing how my mother's point of view is identical to that of my father's, grandpa is not close to her... was not close to her". I whispered and turned to look at the painting next to Hunt.