Jett felt a moment of relief mixed with apprehension when his phone told him that Lucas was calling.
“Lucas? Is everything ok?”
“Yea. It’s great.”
“Where have you been?! I’ve been worrying about you.”
“Emilio took me to the private air strip where Brandon’s jet was waiting. He was on the jet – we talked a little. It was….awkward. When we landed he asked me if I still trusted him. I answered honestly with a yes. He had me close my eyes, and led me to a car. We drove for a while, and when the car stopped and I was finally allowed to open my eyes…well, we were at the same place he’d taken me to in Spain on our first date.”
“You’re in Spain?”
“Yea.”
“I’m glad you’re ok. So things are going well then?”
“Yes. We both apologized. Things are good right now.”
“I’m glad. Stay safe.”
“I will. And Jett?”
“Yea?”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Lucas hung up the phone and looked over at Brandon, asleep in the bed. He couldn’t help but smile. He was so elated that the idea had worked. A part of him wanted to tell Brandon that he had been manipulated…part of him even wondered if Brandon would be upset but proud of that fact. Still, he wasn’t going to risk it. He walked over to the bedside, leaned down, and gave his sleeping lover a kiss. He intended to go out and get a few things. He felt an apology gift was in order, and he had an idea for a painting, but that could wait until he got home. He needed to sketch it out first, and went hunting for supplies, and made sure to eat at mealtimes.
After breakfast he came back to the hotel, and sat in one of the chairs on the balcony overlooking the Mediterranean. He watched the beauty of the sea for a while before pulling out the supplies he had purchased, and he began to sketch. he would commit this to canvas when he got home and paint with oils, but for now a sketch would have to convey things as best as possible. Perspective work came first. A chessboard, drawn from the white edge with the black towering over, so at a roughly forty-five degree angle, he estimated. In the center of the board was a large, black king piece. The piece would have a reflection of Brandon in it, but that was something to be conveyed with paints better than pencils – still, he tried. Behind and to the sides of the board, you could tell the Mediterranean and it’s ships were in the distance. Rather than a bright sky, it was overcast, and shadows lurked all around the edges, creeping in like a mist. Once he had completed the bare bones sketch, he cleaned up the lines, and used colored pencil to shade everything in.
He had missed lunch while he was working, and didn’t notice until his stomach rumbled. It actually gave him pause for a minute, as the last year he had spent not feeling it. He got up and headed inside, setting the sketchbook down on a table, while he went through a menu and ordered room service for dinner. In the meantime, he headed for the bathroom, intending to take a shower and then change into the clothes he’d bought earlier that day. It would be dark soon, he knew…he just wasn’t sure how soon Brandon would be awake.
He took his time in the shower, letting the heat of the water wash away the stress, depression and anxiety of the last few days. he stayed until the water began to run cold, then shut it off, stepping out into the steamy bathroom and toweled off. He wrapped the towel around him when he heard the knock at the door to the room, then stepped out and answered the door, long enough to bring in room service. He distracted himself for a few minutes, tasting the food, realizing he was hungrier than he had thought. Screw getting dressed. He could eat now, and dress later.