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“I think it’s important to explore a myriad of techniques,” the guy on the platform was saying as Neal and his dad slipped in the door.
(Neal still was trying to decide if he should mentally refer to him as “Eddie” It didn’t feel right, now that he knew, but everything he did try felt weird.)
Neal’s dad went stone-still, the two of them still in the shadow of the pillars in the back of the room. Neal looked up to see his eyes locked on the podium, unblinking and unbreathing.
“Naturalism isn’t the golden standard to measure by,” not-Eddie continued. “Oftentimes, it’s letting go of what you think ‘real’ should look like that allows your art to truly come alive.”
“I have a question,” Neal’s dad raised his hand, unfreezing to step out of the shadows by the door.
Neal watched as not-Eddie… no, as Grown-Up Neal’s eyes landed on Neal’s dad and froze.
“Do you ever take commissions?” Peter asked.
The grown-ups seated in front of them grumbled quietly as they turned to look at them. Neal caught mutters of “respect Parker’s time” and “stupid question” from the guy right in front of him, and a lady to their left said something about “afford him.”
Peter ignored all of them, his eyes locked on Grown-Up Neal.
Grown-Up Neal’s jaw flexed the tiniest bit, so little that Neal would have missed it if Uncle Mozzie hadn’t taught him how to look for the smallest facial tells. He nodded slightly, his eyes a hair wider than normal and his face just too pale. “I… have been known to take an occasional commission,” he answered, voice steady after his initial pause.
“Do you work from photos?” Neal followed his dad as Peter stepped forward again, ignoring the increasing number of irritated looks from the people turning around in their seats. “I had a very dear friend,” he continued, his eyes never leaving Grown-Up Neal’s, “who I lost. Ten years ago, now.”
Grown-Up Neal blinked, too fast, and swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, voice barely carrying to where Neal and Peter stood. Neal wondered if anyone else could hear the layers in those two words.
His dad certainly did. “He was protecting our family.” His voice thickened. “But it took him from us. And we miss him.”
Across the room, in the dark spot near the other door, Neal saw his mom put a hand over her mouth, and Theo gave Neal a wide-eyed look as Aunt Diana pulled him in closer.
Grown-Up Neal didn’t seem to see them, though. His blue eyes stayed locked on Peter, intense with all the things Neal’s dad seemed to be saying without saying.
Neal felt his father’s warm hand rest on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Peter’s eyes glistening as he swallowed too. “My son,” he started, and Neal looked back at the podium to see Grown-Up Neal’s eyes snap down to him with the force of more emotions than Neal was able to sort apart. “He never got to meet his namesake,” Peter continued.
Grown-Up Neal’s eyes shot back to Peter before landing on Neal again, now glistening as well in the light of the large windows.
“I would like–” Peter’s voice grew thick, and he cleared his throat, tugging Neal closer to his side “–for my son to at least know him a little bit. Would you…”
Neal looked up when a droplet hit his hair, and saw a wet streak down Peter’s face.
His dad didn’t cry almost ever.
Neal squeezed his dad’s hand, and Peter squeezed back, his hand warm and strong like always, but trembling. “Would you consider… helping me make my friend come alive?” Peter finished, another tear sliding down his face. He squeezed Neal again, his eyes locked on Grown-Up Neal. “For my son?”
The crowd had stopped grumbling, and the people seated looked between Peter and Grown-Up Neal. A few sniffs echoed quietly through the high-ceilinged room, but otherwise the silence was expectant.
Neal turned his eyes back to the platform.
Grown-Up Neal’s eyes were shiny, burning intensely in his pale face as he met Peter’s gaze without blinking. They shifted, suddenly, down to Neal, and Neal realized now was the moment to use every lesson Uncle Mozzie had ever taught him about “utilizing that innocent face.”
Something complicated twitched across Grown-Up Neal’s face, and Neal could have almost sworn he wanted to laugh. The intense blue gaze returned to Neal’s dad, and Neal and the whole room held their breath.
“I might. I might consider that,” Grown-Up Neal said softly, gazing at Peter. “We should talk more after my panel.”
Neal’s dad let out a shuddering half-laugh, and covered his mouth with his hand. Neal leaned into his dad, excitement running through him as he met Theo’s eyes across the room.
They would have to tell Uncle Mozzie that all his lessons worked!