9 - Lucien
9
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Lucien
Using the drawing folder as a base, I sketched a few charcoal drawings on my way to art school. Although drawing while walking wasn’t ideal, my loose wrist allowed for a rough yet practiced style with charcoal.
Steven caught up with me, his face breaking into a broad grin as he greeted me. Despite his red eyes and tousled hair, he wore his Ralph Lauren jacket in his usual casual way and the top buttons of his Armani shirt undone. The biggest and most vain stoner I knew—and my oldest and most loyal friend.
“Last minute again?” he asked, pulling out a tobacco pouch from his pocket.
I merely let out a grumble, which was supposed to be both a greeting and a confirmation, and continued to concentrate on my sketch. Luckily, I had woken up before 12 o’clock this time, so at least I could walk at a leisurely pace. This also suited Steven––he could enjoy a smoke in peace before the class. Tucking his folder under his arm, he rolled himself a joint and lit it.
“Do you want?” he asked after the first puff.
“No, thanks.”
“You do realize what the assignment was?” he asked, squinting at my sketch.
“Modern still life. Right?”
“Uh … close. That was last week. Nude is on the program today.”
I stopped and gawked at him in disbelief. “You sure?” His statement didn’t concern me yet, considering Steven was always stoned.
He pulled out his phone, opened the semester schedule, and pointed to today.
“Nude.”
Shit … Okay.
I spontaneously drew the lines of the leaves longer and turned them into the lasciviously spread legs of a woman. From the apples, I sculpted the curves of the pelvis while the bouquet of flowers morphed into a wild mop of hair.
“That’s almost outrageous,” Steven commented on the passable drawing. “But will Professor Seeger approve of that?”
“Probably not,” I thought aloud, but first and foremost, I was just relieved to be able to submit something. “There’s nothing to be done about the fact that the guy doesn’t like me anymore anyway.”
Steven tried to suppress his laughter. “That’s your own fault.”
“Pff, nothing happened at all.”
“But you wanted to give him a blow job.”
“So? I still would if he took me off his blacklist for that.”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t seem gay or bi.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to forget the embarrassing situation almost a year ago. “I told you, I was just drunk. It wasn’t a hookup.”
“Of course, keep telling yourself that. It obviously felt different to him.”
Steven didn’t know what had really happened then. It had been a similar situation to the one with Jonah in the stairwell. There was a fall festival and exhibition at the art school. I found myself standing with Seeger in front of my painting, which he commented on in detail and praised. At some point, I stopped listening altogether. All I could see was Phil in him—every movement, every sparkle in his eyes. Even his voice sounded like Phil’s to me. That warm tone, so beloved, overcame me, and I couldn’t resist any longer; I simply kissed the professor.
Unfortunately, Seeger’s subsequent apology for his behavior—he had pushed me away so forcefully that I landed on the floor—couldn’t salvage our relationship. My actions had offended him deeply, and he couldn’t look past it.
“The man thinks I’m a pervert. I should be thankful he didn’t report me.”
“Well, that would have been going a bit too far,” Steven said, pushing the joint into the ashtray by the entrance.
I grimaced and muttered. “Whatever…”
***
There were two nude models present. I loved approaching human forms in this way, deciphering their proportions and turning simple shapes into figures. In my paintings, I still kept the human bodies abstract, although I would have liked to depict them in more detail—one of my weaknesses that I had to work on.
I was so absorbed that I didn’t even notice someone standing behind me. It was only when they leaned slightly over my shoulder that I flinched, startled.
I guess Professor Seeger isn’t that homophobic when he gets that close to me.
“You work with rectangles here too, Mr. Gilliéron.” Without looking at me, he pointed to my male’s torso with his pencil. “That makes it easier to depict the rotation of the upper body.”
“Th-thank you.”
Seeger walked over to Steven, who was sitting next to me, and glanced at his drawing. When I saw the professor from the side, I wondered how I could have had such hallucinations—he didn’t look anything like Phil. It was different with Jonah; he looked much more like him. And that athletic body was so hot.
My eyes drifted back to one of the nude models. I’d been staring at the naked torso for over an hour now, but it just wasn’t the same anymore. I kept thinking about that day when Jonah had come shirtless into the kitchen. I know I had devoured him with my gaze, but I just couldn’t help it. The guy was so sexy and didn’t even know it.
What a waste.
I just couldn’t stop wondering what his lips tasted like.
His full, shapely lips.
When I imagined drawing Jonah, the sketch became much easier. And when I finally got down to the details, I became completely absorbed in the work. I shaped his lips, nose, and eyes, then worked out the upper body and shaded in the muscles. When my attention fell on the bulge in the tight underpants, I couldn’t help but wonder what Jonah was shaped like.
Oh man! Get a grip!
Fortunately, the bell rang at that moment and I was able to pack up my stuff.
“Gilliéron! A word,” Seeger called out as I moved to exit the room with Steven.
“I’ll wait outside,” Steven said, pulling the tobacco pouch with the weed out of his pocket to roll the next joint.
I cautiously approached Seeger, who was organizing our sketches into a folder.
“What’s up?”
He glanced up and regarded me with a pensive expression for a moment. “Well, the application deadline for next year’s semester abroad is in a week. Don’t you want to apply?”
“Do you want to get rid of me?” I asked with a charming smile.
Seeger’s face darkened. “That’s not what I meant. I just thought it might be something for you.”
Now I regretted saying that––it hadn’t been my intention to provoke him at all. But somehow it became a habit over the last year. Every time Seeger had wanted something from me, he’d just ended up grumbling about some unimportant crap. The fact that he was now reminding me of the registration deadline was unusual and very thoughtful and nice.
“I … I won’t be able to do a semester abroad.”
“Why not?”
“Well … I … can’t afford it.”
“Oh. I didn’t expect that. I thought you came from a respectable family—though at times, your conduct leaves something to be desired. But well, if that’s the case.”
I stood there paralyzed and just stared at him. As my heart raced, I experienced a rollercoaster of hot and cold. I felt the urgent need to explain myself. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I … I make a living by selling my paintings, but at the moment I only have enough money until January. If I don’t sell something again soon, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to afford the next semester here.”
Seeger furrowed his brows, scrutinizing me intently. I didn’t care if he thought I was a liar. At least I had diverted the conversation away from my family.
“I don’t know whether to offer you my condolences or congratulations,” the professor said. “It would be a real shame if you didn’t finish your studies. So make sure you make some money.”
That made me breathe a sigh of relief. “I … I’ll do my best.”
Seeger’s face even cracked into a smile before he nodded, indicating that I was dismissed. Thank goodness. I promptly turned on my heel and hurried out into the fresh air.
“What did he want?” Steven asked from amidst a cloud of sweet grass near the entrance, waiting for me.
“Nothing important. So? What are we doing?”
“I’d say an after-work beer is in order. Or do you want to go straight to the studio?”
“No, an after-work beer sounds wonderful.”