Chapter Text
Curt was never a big fan of museums. Not since he threw up on the museum field trip in the fourth grade.
However, he had to take an art class for his degree, and that class had a field trip to the Met, so here he was. Looking at paintings and trying not to get queasy at the memory.
The paintings were exquisite, though Curt didn’t know much about them. He was gunning for a C- in the class.
A painting almost half the size of a wall caught his eye, and he froze. The painting. . . It was him.
Curt slowly got as close to the painting as he was physically allowed, being blocked off by the velvet rope protecting the art.
The portrait version of him- of not-him- had a haughty smirk on his face and was clad in an outfit that looked to be fitting of a man of noble status- adorned in furs, wearing rings on each of his index fingers.
Curt read the card beside the painting, giving its name and a brief history.
Portrait of My Lover, Unknown.
This painting was done by an unknown artist in the 16th century. It is largely theorized by art historians that the man in the painting was the soulmate of the painter.
Soulmate. Curt’s soulmate painted him.
Visions danced in his head of standing still for hours posing, pretending to complain but secretly relishing the attention from his love. Wrapping his arms around a man’s neck and kissing him as a distraction to steal his paintbrush, laughter echoing through the halls as he ran. . .
“Do you like it?”
Curt hadn’t realized that someone was standing beside him until now. Startled out of his trance, he turned to face the man.
The man was familiar. So very, very familiar. Curt’s entire being ached with the desire to be near him. It was as if he were a moth, and the stranger was the flame.
“It’s beautiful.”
The stranger smiled at him, holding out a hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
Curt took the man’s hand, and he knew in his heart that this was the man who painted him so long ago.
His soulmate.