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It was stuffy. Hot. Anthony had been pretending to do some shading for an hour now. There was no point. Everything had been already done in the last six months, and now, in one night, a miracle couldn't be performed. He was confident in his work and wouldn't have come to the academy today if it weren't for fucking Valentino, convinced they had to work themselves to the death.
Beside him, Cherry wasn't even trying; she was rolling pieces of clay she'd stolen from the sculpture room and throwing it at Penn. He retaliated.
Molly rolled her eyes at yet another of Valentino’s comments about the portrait Anthony hovered over. He wasn’t paying attention, just nodded his head in agreement when needed. The stale air was giving him a headache. The slightly open window didn't help.
Charlie whispered something to Vaggie, standing up to look at her painting from a distance. She did this every two minutes, and her flickering was irritating. He liked Charlie, but she had a way of causing panic.
Finally, Valentino left him alone, choosing the new victim. Anthony discreetly pulled out his phone.
“Emily, do you need a personal invitation?” Valentino asked, irritated.
“What?” The girl glanced up from her textbook. “No, I’ve already finished.”
Next to her, Molly stopped painting, her shoulders tensed.
“Finished? Repin was secretly coming to the Tretyakov Gallery to correct his works, and you are finished? Let’s see.”
Emily pursed her lips, laying out her paintings on the floor; her carefree mood was gradually evaporating, her face wrinkled in worry. Valentino didn’t hold back. He never did. But now his comments were even more personal, the words “talentless” and “coloring books” sounded a few times. The girl’s hands were shaking, she was close to tears. Anthony was sincerely sorry for her. People like Valentino shouldn't be allowed near girls like Emily. Cursing himself with every crude word he knew, he put his phone away.
“Ecxuse me, can you tell, do I need more contrast in the shadows or will it be too much?”
Valentino immediately turned around, his face a satisfied expression of self-importance. Molly quietly took Emily's hand, leading her out of the room. For another fifteen minutes, Anthony again had to listen to very valuable advice.
Tired from impersonating a teacher Valentino walked out of the workroom. Breathing became easier.
“You do you, but we are going to get wasted,” Anthony announced cheerfully, getting up from his chair and heading towards Husk, who had fallen asleep at his easel an hour ago. “Get your old ass up.”
He shaked him by the shoulder, making Husk wake up with a grumble.
“My neck hurts,” came the complaint, his voice hoarse from sleep.
“Happens to people your age,” he grinned as Husk rubbed his neck. “Cherry, are you in?”
“Sure thing.” The girl was already throwing her stuff into the backpack. “I can not look at these green walls any longer”.
“Can I join?” Penn looked at them shyly. Anthony wanted to say no, dealing with someone else’s alcohol poisoning wasn’t on his calendar. But before he could answer, Cherry shrugged her shoulders.
“Why not.”
“If Valshit comes back, tell him we are in the bathroom or something. And text us. We are not promising to come back,” Anthony waved his hand and opened the door.
They snicked into an empty workroom, where nobody would’ve disturbed them this late. He got the key in advance and “forgot to put it back”. The oil paint smell here was strong, making him nauseous.
“Promise you won’t fall out,” Cherri yanked open the window.
Husk pulled out the vodka, orange juice and plastic cups. Anthony sat near the window, breathing in frosty air. He should have worried about the flu, but at this point bothering was too much effort. In the first year he had spent the whole night trying to better his works, to achieve perfection Valentino wouldn’t shut up about, but now all that passion was gone. Painting didn’t bring joy anymore. Only the days full of the same compositions and tirades from the professors were left.
A cup appeared in his hand and the smell of alcohol filled his nostrils. He winced at the familiar bitterness on his tongue, coughing like a school boy.
“Was somebody smart enough to bring snacks?” He asked, having tears in the corners of his eyes. “And don’t fucking pour me half a cup of vodka like that.”
“I thought you wanted to ‘get wasted like it’s your last night’,” Husk innocently responded, not hiding his grin.
“Don’t fuss, I got you,” Cherri squeezed his shoulder and gave him a chocolate bar.
Anthony broke off a piece. The chocolate melted nicely on his tongue, chasing away the taste of alcohol. He really wanted to get drunk and there even wasn't a valid ground for that. He knew he would have to spend half of the night in the academy and was simply bored. “Bored” was probably one of the worst reasons to drink. His conscience advised him to analyze it, and mumbled something about alcoholism. His friends didn’t fret about such dilemmas though, and he wasn't about to be the voice of reason.
He needed to live through the exams, and then the winter break came, when club raiding was a must. It would’ve been more fun if Cherri didn’t decide to fly home. The thought of inviting Husk appeared in his brain, but, firstly, he wasn’t sure what kind of a relationship they had, and, secondly, the image of him on the dance floor was impossible to conjure. The chances were he would hide in a corner, wasted, and complain about the loud music.
“What about a game?” A mischievous smile stretched her face. She was looking directly at Penn. The guy answered her with a cautious glance but there was ardour in his eyes.
“I just happened to have a deck.” Husk fished a battered pack out of his jeans and began to shuffle. Anthony took a loud breath.
“And how are we going to get drunk if we waste our time on cards?”
“I meant a drinking game,” Cherri rolled her eyes, then added, looking at Husk. "No one wants to hit cards with you, you old cheat.”
“Whatever, but I won't participate in any nonsense either. Truth or dare leave to the kids.”
“It’s ‘Truth or drink’, but I don’t wanna do that shit. I want to win.”
Cherri always had endless energy, and Anthony was impressed by it. It was contagious.
“Get the cups. I’ll show you a game.”
Not surprisingly, they didn’t have a ball, but Cherri still had clay. While Anthony was somewhat sober, scoring wasn’t a problem, but when the alcohol flooded his body with peasant warmth, he got an urge to lie down. Cherri led in hits, Husk in the amount of drinks consumed. Penn struggled but not because of a bad aim. He shyly admitted that he had never had vodka before. Cherri congratulated him on the initiation.
The guy was by far the most gone. The more he drank, the more brave he got, and the more ridiculous his compliments became. Cherri laughed, acting as if she didn’t care, but Anthony didn't miss the small, genuine smile at the corners of her lips.
He got tired of the game and slid closer to Husk, who switched over to simple alcohol consumption a few rounds back. Anthony’s mind was full of clouds, stalling his thoughts. Everything seemed so light.
“This two will definitely fuck,” he commented, trying to lean on Husk — not able to stay in a vertical position any longer — and got insistently pushed away.
“Penn needs to learn to look her in the eyes for more than a few seconds first.”
Anthony clicked his tongue in annoyance and laid on the floor. The room stopped spinning. He felt for Penn. He himself didn't know what else to do to make that grumpy stubborn idiot look at him. Really look. How can everyone appreciate that beauty but him?
Occasionally, for brief moments, it seemed there was something shimmering between them. He could swear he catched some less than innocent glances. But he would blink, and it would be gone.
Anthony thought he had to up his game. Then he thought he had to tone it down. Nothing ever worked. But he was far from a quitter.
If that awkward nerd scored his gorgeous friend before Anthony got some action with Husk, he would tear the academy apart.
He must have drifted off, as suddenly there was a hoodie under his head, and the drunken voices were gone. Husk was finishing the bottle.
“Penn had a few too many. He threw up.”
Despite the pain in his temples, he urgently rose up, trying to find the poor guy.
“Thankfully, they got to the toilet first. Cherri walked him to the doormatory.”
Husk was sitting, leaning on the wall, and Anthony decided to join him.
“How aren’t you hammered yet?”
“Practice. If you started drinking at eleven, you wouldn’t be too.”
“So it is too late?”
Husk nodded, raising a cup in a cheer. The sight of alcohol made him nauseous, so he gave a wry smile. Now, when he sobered, blithe pleasure was dissolving in depressive thoughts. The winter break was too short and the inevitable beginning of the new semester filled him with repulsion. Hearing Valentino’s voice was becoming more unbearable. The image of a genius artist shattered, leaving in its place a crazy man, who got addicted to his fame, craving constant validation of his talent.
“‘What are you going to do after the academy?” Anthony asked after a few minutes.
“Business.” Husk didn’t even pause to think.
“For real? What kind?”
“Any. My parents forced me here after listening to Alastor’s advice. They think I can’t live without a diploma.”
“You don’t like it here?”
“It’s okay. Sculpturing isn’t so bad. I think I’ll continue doing it. The rest? If I have to, then I have to.”
“Well, I don’t like it here,” shared Anthony, the remnants of the alcohol were loosening his tongue. He had only discussed it with Molly before, worried others would blabber. The last thing he needed were professors lecturing him on “lost potential”.
“Why not do something else?”
“Painting is the only thing I’m good at. It was fun before. I am waiting for the fun to come back. Maybe I should start a business too?”
“You can’t,” Husk finally put the bottle aside, by some miracle it wasn’t empty. “You will be bored.”
“And you won’t?”
“And I am okay with being bored.”
For a while they didn’t talk. In all honesty, Anthony wanted to make a move. The moment seemed perfect: the dimmed lights, they are alone, a bit drunk or maybe more than a bit. The one little problem was his outfit. He now regretted not thinking it through. But hey, it was too early to care, so he put the first sweater his hand could grab. He still looked hot.
Anthony turned his head slightly, studying Husk’s profile. How annoyingly handsome he was, with his dark hair and warm brown eyes. With his toned skin, and sexy stubble. So how do you seduce a frigid man?
“Did you ever have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?” he asked, trying to move closer without notice.
Husk threw a cautious glance at him. “In high-school. What for?”
“Just curious,” their thighs touched which he considered a personal win. “Were you this shy with her too?”
“Tony, can you not?” His gaze was full of tiredness. “It’s the same bullshit with you. Are there not enough men falling at your feet?”
The rejection went through his chest. He never handled it well — it probably said something about him he never planned to unpack — but it was ten times worse when it was from someone he had pined after for a year. He pulled his knees to his chest.
Now the silence was oppressive, prompting him to fill it with anything.
“I wrote a report on Valentino.”
Husk looked at him surprised.
“That’s brave.”
“Not really, I didn’t file it,” he sighed. “He pissed me off. He threw a pencil at Molly”.
“He threw a chair at you.”
“Eh, he missed.” His hand made a vague motion in the air. “Beseides, nobody saw it.”
“Give it to the princess, let her control the process.”
“Pff, you know she doesn’t want to ‘use her status’. And he will find out at the hearing anyway.”
“Fucked up system.”
“Maybe I’ll still file it.” He rubbed the paint stain on his trouser leg with his finger. “I think his mind is just going further and further off the rails.”
Husk hummed, got up, and, leaning on the windowsill, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Anthony followed him, demanding one. The view offered them a road, a cluster of multiple-story buildings and a piece of land mysteriously hidden behind a fence. The smoke filled his lungs, bringing a fleeting relief.
“I am going to ask you something,” he started, “but you aren’t allowed to get mad.”
“I do not promise anything.”
Anthony sighed with exaggeration.
“I’ll ask anyway.”
“Figures.”
Knowing he was making a mistake, but not able to resist, he said, “Why won’t you sleep with me?”
“God. You never stop, do you?” Husk slumped, a mixture of weariness and bewilderment on his face.
Pathetic. Begging for attention as if he hasn’t been turned down, like, a few minutes ago. He had never had to chase a man this hard in his life. So he needed to know, if he was ever to put this crush behind, he had to know why Husk didn’t want him.
“Just answer and I promise I’ll never bring it up again,” well, he would try not to.
Husk looked at him apprehensively as if Anthony were pulling teeth, forcing him to admit something shameful.
“Because you don’t want to?”
The words created a short circuit in his head. He expected to hear a lot of things: from Husk being straight to some, unfortunately, correct descriptions of Anthony’s character.
“Em, I literally have been making moves on you this whole time.”
“And on whom you haven’t?” He asked, frustrated. “You don’t do that sincerely.”
Anthony pursed his lips, feeling like a complete idiot. Why would anyone take him seriously if he propositions every guy he meets?
In his defence, there weren't a lot of guys in the academy.
“Well, in your case I put my whole heart in it,” he drew out the words, not able to shake off the persona completely, but letting his eyes soften, hoping it was enough for Husk to understand.
“I am not fucking on the dirty floor in a workroom.”
“What about a kiss?”
Husk froze, his face covered in embarrassment. The more he stayed silent, the more unsure Anthony felt. Finally, Husk put out his forgotten cigarette, and placed his hand on top of Anthony’s, squeezing.
There was no need for any other permission. Sliding closer, Anthony dropped his own cigarette out of the window and pressed his hand on Husk’s cheek, stroking. He had been waiting for this.
Their lips met, cautiously, not daring to do too much. It was soft. Husk’s body felt tense. His other hand traveled up Anthony’s arm and to the neck, brushing its thumb against the pulse. The kiss was nothing like in his full of lust fantasies. Tenderness in it was mixed with uncertainty.
Anthony pressed himself against Husk. Everything in him screamed to deepen the kiss, to let the hands wander, but maybe, this once, it was too soon. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to take things slow.
So he let Husk pull away and rest on his shoulder. Anthony’s hand found its way into his curly hair.
How glad he was that he’d decided not to give a fuck about the exams.