by Austin Bates
“I brought you some supplies,” said Vincent, unloading the grocery bags onto the counter tops. In a way it almost felt like a repeat of the previous night.
“You don’t need to keep buying me stuff,” said Hunter with a little laugh. “What happened to letting me have my independence?”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t give you things,” insisted Vincent. “I got several different medicines for upset stomachs. I wasn’t sure which one would actually work the best, or even which flavor you’d like so I got some options to work from. I bought a bunch of crackers. We’ve got a wide variety to choose from too. Saltine, cheese-its, wheat thins, um...these off brand things, plus some of the more expensive ones that you’re supposed to eat with cheese and wine but I figured I might as well grab them just in case...”
“You’re sweet,” said Hunter, cutting off Vincent before he started unloading another bag. “I honestly am feeling a lot better though. Luke made me some so—“
“Hunter...”
“Vincent, I don’t know what you have against him, but he took care of me today. He’s been nothing but friendly towards me and hasn’t given me any reason to doubt his sincerity.” Hunter wasn’t trying to start an argument, but he couldn’t understand Vincent’s irrational dislike of Luke. Or maybe it was completely rational and Luke just hadn’t shown his true colors. Either way, Hunter had nothing to go off of save for his own experiences and Vincent had given him nothing concrete.
“I know,” said Vincent, shaking his head slowly. “Just please, for my sake, please stop seeing him. I can’t trust him and knowing you’re spending so much time around him has me worried. You should have texted me and I would’ve come right over to take care of you.”
“Vincent...” Hunter didn’t want to make that promise. He liked Luke and he was arguably better company than Vincent had ever been. But Vincent had done nothing but try to take care of Hunter since that night at the music hall. He’d gone out of his way to try and make sure Hunter had everything he needed. Even though he usually seemed to miss the mark, he put in so much effort that Hunter was beginning to feel guilty for being so stubborn about this.
“Why is this so important to you?” asked Hunter as he slowly lowered himself into a chair at the kitchen table.
Vincent sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You know how I feel about you, Hunter. And you and Luke spending all that time alone together. Well, you weren’t just friends in the past. He’s one of your ex-boyfriends just like I was. Only unlike me, he was manipulative and obsessive. I know I may seem a bit clingy, but that’s just because of your accident. For Luke, there was no reason other than the fact that he wanted to control you.”
Hunter frowned and looked down at his hands. It felt like every time he turned around lately he was running into ex-boyfriends. Just how many people had he dated exactly? This information was only Vincent’s side of the story though. Whether or not he’d accurately depicted everything was still a matter for debate.
“How am I just supposed to cut him off? We’re neighbors. We run into each other in the hallways and outside of the building,” explained Hunter. “And there’s no way I’m selling my apartment just because of this.”
“That’s fine,” said Vincent. “Just avoid being alone with him, that’s all I want.”
But I like being alone with him, thought Hunter. “He’s one of my only friends,” he said aloud.
“I know it’s difficult. But it’s for the best. He’s not really your friend anyway. Believe me, he’s just trying to bide his time until he can do something to take advantage of you.” Vincent approached the table and laid a hand on Hunter’s shoulder.
“I don’t want you to worry about me,” said Hunter softly, looking up at Vincent.
“I appreciate that.”
“But I can’t just cutoff one of the only friends I have without proof that they’re taking advantage of me,” Hunter said emphatically rising to his feet.
Vincent clenched his fists, and for a moment Hunter was afraid he was going to be hit. But Vincent withdrew and began loading up his grocery bags once more.
“Vincent...”
Vincent said nothing as he hoisted the bags into his arms and made his way back to the front door.
“Vincent can we please just talk about this?” asked Hunter, alarmed by the rapidity with which Vincent had completely shutdown.
A moment later the front door was flung open, and Vincent marched out into the hall without another word.
Hunter was distraught as he approached the open door and peered out into the hall at Vincent’s retreating form. Was he being unreasonable? Vincent had done a lot for him and he hadn’t asked for anything in return. This single request wasn’t really so difficult to understand, was it?
If he was in love with someone, would he be okay with them being alone with someone that fit their romantic interest? But that’s just it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t in love with anyone.
He knew how Vincent felt about him, but he still didn’t return that same level of affection. In fact, more and more lately, he’d been finding it difficult to even consider Vincent his friend. In a way he felt like a demanding childhood friend that claimed friendship based only on the fact that they’d known each other for a long time.
That sort of thing didn’t hold any weight for Hunter. Especially not when he had Luke going out of his way to avoid that sort of thing. Luke was doing his best to make sure their friendship was based on their current interactions with one another and thus far hadn’t demanded anything of Hunter.
Running his hands through his hair in confusion, Hunter shut the front door. He paced uncertainly back and forth across his apartment several times, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next.
In a way, he didn’t think he needed to do anything. It was Vincent that was having a problem, wasn’t it?
Frustrated by the entire situation, he went to the refrigerator in search of food.
The smell of twelve different kinds of takeout and leftover spaghetti assaulted his nose. His stomach instantly took to the warpath once more, and Hunter fled to the bathroom.
“I’M REALLY SORRY TO bother you like this,” apologized Hunter as he sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water.
“I told you to text me if you got sick again,” Luke reassured him. “It’s no trouble at all.”
Luke stood in the kitchen and was transferring all of Hunter’s leftover food into Tupperware containers. From time to time, a whiff of food would reach Hunter and a wave of nausea would hit him like a brick wall. Thankfully, his stomach was empty now which made it easier to keep things under control.
“The spaghetti didn’t bother you the night we made it, did it?” asked Luke, looking over at Hunter with concern.
“No,” said Hunter, shaking his head slowly. “And I had Chinese with my mom after I got out of the hospital and it was fine then.”
“You didn’t have a fever earlier. Do you mind if I feel your head now?” asked Luke, slowly approaching the table.
“Go ahead.” Hunter shrugged.
Luke pressed a cool hand against his forehead and Hunter realized that he was feeling a bit warm. Maybe he did have a fever after all.
“You feel normal to me,” said Luke, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe you should think about going to see your doctor. This sort of thing isn’t really normal.”
“I felt fine all day after you left,” insisted Hunter. “It was just the smell in the fridge that made my stomach upset. I’ll be fine.”
“Throwing up because you smelled leftovers isn’t really the definition of ‘fine,’ ” said Luke with a little chuckle. “Obviously I can’t force you and I’m not going to nag you about it. But you should consider it, okay? Especially if it happens again.”
“If it happens again, absolutely,” agreed Hunter, sitting back in his chair.
As he watched Luke wash out some empty dishes, his mind drifted back to the conversation he’d had with
Vincent. He wondered if he should share Vincent’s concerns with Luke. Of course, if he really was the kind of person Vincent had warned him about then telling him all of that would only cause him to be more subtle about his negative behavior.
“Okay, so there’s more chicken soup in this container on the top shelf,” said Luke, showing him the container before putting it back in the fridge. “The rest of the food is in Tupperware on the lower shelves. The smells should all be contained so you don’t have to smell them unless you want to. I’m going to go ahead and take the rest of the lasagna home with me so it doesn’t go bad.”
“That’s fine,” said Hunter, rising from his chair and following Luke to the front door. “Thank you again for this. You have no idea how grateful I am right now.”
“Honestly, it was nothing. I’m glad you asked for my help. Makes me think you were actually listening earlier when I told you it was okay to rely on others sometimes.” Luke laughed to himself. “I can come by in the morning to check on you if you’d like?”
“I should be okay,” said Hunter, his independent streak refusing to allow him to grow complacent. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
“All right, good night.” Without another word Luke was out the door heading back towards his own apartment.
No fighting. No trying to convince Hunter his way was the right way. He made an offer, and when it was turned down, he accepted it and moved on. Were those the actions of a manipulative person?
Hunter shook his head slowly and closed the front door. If he took things at face value, then the only possible answer to his situation was Vincent was making up things about Luke because he was jealous. That made sense, right?
But it was ridiculous because he had nothing to be jealous about. Did he?
Hunter glanced towards the refrigerator and the kitchen that had been left absolutely spotless. Not only had Luke come to his rescue, but he’d left everything—including Hunter—in a better state than he’d found it. If Luke was a manipulative and obsessive boyfriend then he was certainly putting on all the charms to try and win Hunter back to his side.
But Hunter couldn’t quite bring himself to deny that it was a possibility. Yet.
Chapter Ten
“I think you’re selling them short,” insisted Allen, as he stood in Luke’s apartment. “The paintings you’ve done of Hunter have always been some of your best work. I think we should just run with it. We can put those in the show, and you can fill in the gaps with some of this new stuff you’ve been doing.”
Allen paced around the apartment looking at various canvases.
“The thing is, Luke, you’ve kind of become the Thomas Kincaid of this city. People know what you’re good at, and they know what to expect of you. It’s all scenery, landscape, and skylines. While it’s very good and there’s still a demand for it, you’re starting to become a little less interesting than you used to be to everyone.” Allen shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to look at Luke.
Luke sipped at his coffee as he sat on a stool by his easel adding a few finishing touches to the current painting he was working on. He had abandoned his earlier attempts to capture the city’s more intimate side. This canvas was a painting from memory of Hunter standing naked by the window and gazing out at the city in the early morning.
“Something like this is exactly what people are interested in right now,” continued Allen, circling around behind Luke and peering over his shoulder at the painting. “It’s intimate, but tasteful. It’s relaxing, but also a little enticing. The composition is well balanced, but also feels effortless.”
“I just don’t know how I feel about putting the old paintings in a show,” said Luke. “You were the one that said you wanted all new pieces.”
“Yes, all new pieces. New to the public. No one has ever seen any of your figure work before. I guarantee they’ll be falling over one another to get their hands on them,” said Allen.
Luke sighed and set aside his brush as he looked at the box of old paintings sitting on the far side of the room.
“They’re too intimate,” said Luke at last. “They’ve got too much of the old Hunter wrapped up in them. Even this one,” he gestured to the canvas in front of him. “It’s too personal.”
“Have you shown them to him?” asked Allen.
Luke eyed him for a moment before returning to his work without a word.
“Right, stupid question,” said Allen. “Of course you haven’t. Because you’re still struggling with this idiotic idea that you need to atone for your sins or something. News flash, Luke, you didn’t do anything wrong. The rest of us have to tiptoe around him so as not to expose your little charade. How long do you intend to continue this?”
“Until I get him back,” said Luke simply, staring at the canvas in front of him. “I know it’s not fair to you or anyone else. I know I may be a fool for doing it this way, but I can’t help but think this is the only way that I’m going to avoid losing him for a second time.”
Allen sighed and shook his head. “Let me know whether or not you want to go ahead with those paintings. If you do, then that’s probably ninety percent of the wall space right there. We can bump up the date of the gallery opening and get things moving forward.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Luke without looking up from his work.
Allen let himself out of the apartment and left Luke alone with his thoughts.
He knew Allen meant well but, just like Melinda, he wasn’t content to let others head down the wrong path without giving them ample warnings. What they both failed to consider, however, is that everyone’s path was different. Their warnings had to be taken with a grain of salt, otherwise you’d drive yourself crazy.
Luke absently pulled out his cellphone and glanced at the time. It was already well past noon, and he hadn’t heard anything from Hunter. Was it too much for him to simply check in on him? They were friends right? And he’d helped take care of him yesterday. It was probably fine.
“Feeling better?” he typed in the message, but his finger hovered over the send button. Was that too familiar? Should he be a little less casual? He quickly deleted the message and started over. “I just wanted to check in and make sure...” he paused mid-sentence and deleted the entire thing again.
He knew he was overthinking things. He retyped the original message and hit send before he could change his mind. Only a few minutes later, a reply came through.
“Much. Just polished off half the leftovers in the fridge.”
That was good. At least his appetite was back.
Feeling a little better, Luke turned back towards the canvas and sighed. If he was going to fill the gallery with something other than pictures of Hunter, he needed to stop wasting time on distractions like this. He couldn’t even picture Hunter’s reaction if he saw even half of the paintings of himself.
Luke’s cellphone chimed again. Another message from Hunter.
“Cooking lesson?”
.
“So, I’m just going to add this to the list of things I probably won’t cook on my own,” said Hunter, staring at the pile of misshapen pancakes sitting on the table between them.
To be fair, the majority of them weren’t inedible. They were just extremely ugly and varying degrees of burnt and/or under-cooked.
Luke was beginning to think it might have something to do with his teaching methods. He hadn’t thought it was possible to flip three pancakes in a row out of the pan and onto the floor, but somehow Hunter had managed it.
“What else is on that list?” asked Luke as he drowned a mostly burnt pancake in syrup.
“Cake...and spaghetti,” said Hunter with a laugh.
Luke sighed comically. “You know, I really am trying to impart my wisdom here. I really am.” He chuckled.
“I’m just really not that comfortable in the kitchen. I can use the refrigerator and the microwave, but everything else is a bit overwhelming. I honestly don’t know why.” Hunter shrugged. “I
mean, it’s not as bad when you’re with me.”
Luke looked up and met Hunter’s gaze. “I think,” said Luke after a long moment had passed, “ you have a dirty mind. Look at this.” He held up a pancake that was rather phallic in nature.
Hunter laughed, “No, I think that must be one of yours.”
“I don’t think so,” said Luke, shaking his head. “Mine all look like pancakes.” He held up a round, normal looking pancake. “Yours,” he pulled a third pancake out of the stack, “look like penises.”
Hunter burst out laughing. “They really do, don’t they?” His face was turning red from embarrassment, but he seemed too amused to care.
“I can’t imagine what you were thinking over there drawing penises with pancake batter.” Luke shook his head slowly and laughed.
“Don’t judge me too harshly,” said Hunter in between laughs. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“I just like watching you blush really,” admitted Luke, sitting back in his chair. A soft smile touched his lips.
“You’re cruel,” chuckled Hunter.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luke grinned back at him.
Silence fell over the table. Hunter dug into his pancakes, and Luke prodded at his while trying to come up with something to say. Everything that came to mind was rejected almost immediately. Confessions of attraction and admissions of affection were all far too inappropriate for this situation.
But how long did he have to wait before he could broach that subject? How long did he have to restrain himself before he could admit the full breadth of his affection? A month? Two? He didn’t know and it was slowly driving him crazy. Subtle flirtation was only going to get him so far.
“Allen texted me earlier,” said Hunter suddenly intruding on Luke’s thoughts and dragging him back to reality. “He said he’s meeting one of his customers tomorrow and invited me along for the ride.”
“Are you going to do it?” asked Luke. At least Allen was managing to rebuild his friendship with Hunter without problem.