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“You lost the bet, little brother.”
“I thought for sure Ikaros could beat that dog in a race—I mean, parakeets fly—but I am well aware.” Alexios huffed and crossed his arms as they stood in front of the fine arts building. “Sorry if I have a little hesitation about my punishment.”
“Hesitation only hastens the grave,” Kassandra parroted their mother. Imitating their unofficial college motto, she continued, “A true Spartan never backs down.”
“It’s stupid to have a people group as a mascot and we both know it.” Alexios bit the inside of his cheek. “...But still better than the Athenians.”
Slinging an arm around her brother’s shoulders, Kassandra glided over the subject with ease. “We also both know you’re going in there. If you don’t, the class will be without a model for today, and the art majors will stage a peaceful protest in front of the caf instead.”
“The fate of the world rests in my hands,” Alexios said scathingly, but his armor of sarcasm cracked, revealing a grin.
“Such is the struggle of our family,” Kassandra sighed with dramatics. “Besides, you should’ve known I’d never lose a bet when my hair was on the line.”
Tugging on the aforementioned braid, Alexios grinned wider. “It was worth a shot.”
Punching him a few times in retribution, Kassandra sent Alexios off. “Tell me all about it at lunch!”
Alexios waved and promised he would. That is, if he lived to see it.
Truth be told, Alexios had received worse gifts for his efforts. A dressing room and fluffy white robe were quite the honor. He almost forgot about having to take the robe off until the knock at the door came.
“Sir, are you ready? All of the students are present.”
Since the teacher was a kindly old woman, Alexios felt disinclined to start trouble. He opened the door and followed dutifully into the classroom.
Easier said than done.
As Alexios climbed onto the stage, one artist stood out above the rest. Alexios scanned the circle of sketch pads just to be sure he was real. The fine arts students stuck up their noses as always—perhaps that meant they were happy to be here? On the other hand, the studio arts students looked as if they had been dragged from the pits of Hell to be here.
Only one student looked different to both groups. He slumped a little in exhaustion, sure, but his smile lifted his rosy cheeks, though no one was speaking to him. He wore no uniform of either of the arts, but instead, a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. Kind of an odd choice, especially for the fall, but Alexios was used to Kassandra’s similarly disastrous wardrobe. His hair curled—
“...And we will begin, when our volunteer removes his robe.”
Breaking out of his trance, Alexios blinked. He didn’t know if the old woman had been talking the entire time, or if she had finally given up waiting and politely reminded him. Alexios mumbled his apologies and swung his robe over the stool.
The room could have been positively Arctic for all Alexios knew, but he flushed to the core under the one student’s gaze. At least Mr. Hawaiian was tucked into the corner of the room.
For worse or for better, that fact would soon rear its head. He had been briefed on the nature of a figure drawing class when he had volunteered. For the first twenty minutes, he would hold a warm-up pose, something simple. Now, the lady requested, “Can you find a comfortable sitting position, facing this way?”
Realizing she spoke on the opposite side of the room of the object of Alexios’ affections, he pulled a face. Still, he lowered himself onto the stool and rested his chin on his fist.
He had not been briefed on just how eerily silent figure drawing classes were. Only the scratchings of pencils and strokes of charcoal filled the space, competing with the ticking clock for dominance. Neither compared to the sheer volume of Alexios’ thoughts.
What were the other man’s first impression of Alexios? Did he think of Alexios at all, or did he regard Alexios with same clinical eye as a fine arts major who had seen this body before in northern paintings such as The Lament for Icarus or Prometheus Bound? Alexios would certainly turn around and see for himself, if twenty people’s sketches did not depend on his keeping still.
Now, the timer could compete with Alexios’ inner monologue. The first twenty minutes over, Alexios would now hold a complex pose for five minutes at a time. The old tutor suggested some athletic poses to show dynamic movement. After nodding, Alexios slipped into some wrestling stances he remembered. Well, the ancient Greeks did wrestle naked.
He purposefully tilted his first stance towards the other side of the room. His face could give him away at any time, but Alexios just had to see that one student again. Their unfamiliarly to each other made sense, because even though Alexios had spent years on this campus, he never had the blessing to interact with these majors. Out of self-preservation, Alexios directed his face just to the right of the man.
As he was saying, the man’s fawn locks connected to his beard and curled out around his temples. Whether from his natural growth pattern or just forgetting to brush, Alexios knew not, but he blushed anyway.
If he was not naturally tan enough to hide his coloring, this whole situation would be even more embarrassing than it already was.
Also at this side of the stage, Alexios noticed the man’s camel lashes kissing his cheekbones as he sketched. The artist looked up, and their eyes met, just as Alexios began to stare at his beauty mark. In turn, Alexios had seen the other staring intently at Alexios’ calves, of all places.
For the rest of the poses, Alexios thought the beating of his heart strong enough to knock him over. Somehow, he found the strength to stay still, even though this cost him his ability to breathe and function like a human being.
Throughout the whole class, the wizened tutor had been making her rounds. She gave a few minutes of constructive criticism to each student, in hushed tones as to preserve the calm, judgment-free atmosphere. Now, she made her way over to the mystery man’s corner.
“You use clean, delicate strokes, Lykaon. Sometimes too delicate,” she critiqued softly. “Don’t be afraid of the charcoal if it’s an emotional pose. It adds depth. The anatomy is perfect, as always.”
For this pose, Alexios had one leg propped up on the stool. He gulped for air and wobbled a bit upon learning his new crush’s name.
“Thank you, as always,” Lykaon whispered in return.
At his velvety voice, instead of wobbling, Alexios found himself barraged by Eros’ arrows. His foot slipped off of the top of the stool and landed heavily on a rung below.
Owlish eyes blinked in unison at the bang, but Alexios was focused on Lykaon and the woman. “Are you quite alright?” she asked, brows knit in concern.
“Just peachy,” Alexios groaned between gritted teeth and reformed the pose to the best of his ability.
He desperately wanted his next pose to be crying in a ball on his dorm room floor.
After striking one more, the timer rang again, indicating forty minutes had passed. As all art moved on, so did they, to the final stage of the figure drawing class—and perhaps Alexios’ life. For the final sixty minutes, Alexios would hold a very simple pose for the students to sketch in great detail.
Since he sat facing one side of the room for his first long pose, the lady suggested he lie facing the other side for his final long pose.
Lykaon’s side, Alexios thought as his heart leaped.
Though the stage’s carpet was ancient and scratchy, Alexios welcomed it like an old friend. He propped his head up by leaning on one arm and folded one leg up to add some variety to the pose.
Then, heart racing, Alexios looked up at Lykaon through heavy lids.
Since he did not have Lykaon’s perspective, he could not tell if he looked seductive or stupid. Possibly both. He was not eager to find out by looking at anyone’s sketches, either. Lykaon seemingly did not notice his attempt, as the other was busy— writing? In a drawing class?
Whatever Lykaon was doing, Alexios closed his eyes, willing the final hour to pass by without incident.
By the time class was about to end, Alexios cut through the cacophony of pencils, counting every tick of the clock. His nervousness did not come from being naked in front of a circle of people. That fear had removed itself with his robe. All of the students regarded him professionally, almost as if he was just another fruit bowl to copy.
Should he have been offended? He worked very hard for these muscles. No, he would only be offended if Lykaon took no notice. But since Lykaon kept the same vague smile up, Alexios could not tell. He had also never heard of resting nice face before.
No, his nervousness came from plotting how to talk to Lykaon. Saying hi while he was still naked was an… idea, but a bad one. His only option was to change like his life depended on it, run back out, and hope and pray that Lykaon was still nearby.
The timer rang out for the third and final time. The first blessing came when the old woman dismissed Alexios before the students. As she gave a mini-lecture, Alexios dashed out of the room as respectfully as possible, throwing on his robe at the very same time.
Years of changing in the locker room had prepared Alexios for this. After slamming the door shut, Alexios threw his clothes on like it was an Olympic sport. His biggest mistake was wearing a button-up shirt today, and Alexios broke into a cold sweat as each fumble with his shaking hands kept him from Lykaon.
His shoes were still untied, but Alexios ran out like he had planned. The second blessing came when half of the class was milling out and half packing up in their seats, and Lykaon belonged to the latter half.
Smoothing his hair, Alexios walked forward and saw Lykaon’s sketch pad still open. The third and final blessing came when Lykaon shifted to write something else, and a stick of charcoal rolled from his lap.
Alexios dove.
“You dropped this,” Alexios said as he jumped back up like lightning. It sounded much more like an accusation than a casual, off-hand comment, coupled with his heavy breathing.
Lykaon flinched in return, taking the willow charcoal only gently. “Ah… my thanks. You were a great model today.”
“You too,” Alexios blurted out without thinking. His whole body flushed. “I mean…”
Graceful, Lykaon raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The motion of returning the tool to his bag brought Alexios’ attention back to his sketches. Instead of looking at the pictures of himself, Alexios looked at the detailed notes in a small, flowing script.
“What is all the writing for?” Alexios could not help but ask.
“Ah, this is actually my way of studying anatomy and physiology for my internship at the local hospital,” Lykaon explained. It seemed talking of his passion relaxed his frame. “I’m actually pre-med, not an art major. But drawing has always been a hobby of mine.”
“I would call it more than a hobby,” Alexios pointed at the detailed diagram of his calves. He chuckled in commiseration. “But, pre-med? No wonder you want some rest and relaxation.”
Lykaon also laughed, and the silvery sound almost caused Alexios’ heart to stop. He stood and closed his sketch pad. “You’re too kind. But yes, it’s definitely a challenging track.”
“It all makes sense now,” Alexios thought aloud as they began to walk out of the classroom. “Did you know that the ancient Greeks thought that those with moles on their cheeks were destined for great wealth?”
Lykaon’s smile faltered. “Of course, I don’t plan to become a doctor for the money. It’s just a benefit of helping others.”
“Yeah, I definitely didn’t become a history major for the money.” Stupid! He should have known better. Alexios had to save himself now before the whole ship sank. It was already on fire, along with his cheeks. “Well… I’m Alexios. If you ever want to study anatomy more often, I would be more than happy to help.”
Lykaon grinned as he held the door open. “I assume you mean more than just making flashcards?”
“...You can assume whatever you want,” Alexios mumbled, stepping back outside. When had it gotten so hot? What in the world was happening today?
“It was nice meeting you, Alexios. I’m Lykaon.” He already knew that, but Alexios let him continue. “Are you busy right now?”
“No,” the Greek man blurted out again. Then, his face fell. “Yes. Fuck. I’m meeting my sister for lunch.”
“Well, that’s what they make these for,” Lykaon chuckled softly as he pulled out his phone. He navigated to an empty contact page and held it out for Alexios. “We can arrange a… study session.”
Alexios’ blood pressure immediately skyrocketed. He almost dropped his own phone on the pavement when handing it to Lykaon.
“I hope I see you again soon,” Alexios said honestly, consciously dropping his voice, after they had exchanged numbers.
“I hope so too.” Lykaon began to walk away. He turned around for a final wave goodbye. “Just make sure it isn’t at the hospital, alright?”
Laughing, Alexios waved back. “Yeah, sure.”
He immediately began thinking of the most painless ways to hurt himself.