All I see ✔️

CHAPTER 59

Aaron

"Can you stop pacing back and forth?" I ask Logan.

"Listen, I am all here for supportive bromance-"

"Bromance?"

"- but art exhibitions are really not my thing." He finishes, fidgeting with the sleeves of his leather jacket. The sun is pouring lava outside but Logan has to maintain his grunge, bad boy aesthetic. Fit check, he told me. Ellie's tiktok knowledge is ruining him.

"We'll circle back to the bromance part later."

"No, we wont."

"Yes and you can quote Dickens and Bronte off the top of your head, you're in no position to tell me what is boring or not."

"Dickens is the farthest thing from boring, you'd know if you had comprehensive qualities," Logan scoffs, clearly offended, "Someone tells you that you're the last dream of their soul and you think that's boring?"

"Bet Ellie moaned real hard when you said."

Logan gives me a crooked grin, shamelessly sticking half of his tongue out at me, "How would you know?"

"Fucker," I punch him in the arm, grinning back at him.

It's been a week since Lexie came to me crying and hysterically laughing telling me that she confronted her father and found out he was lying. It has been constant calls of apologies from her dad since then; she has picked up just a few, and as happy and content as I am to give her time to process all this, I just want to smack that motherfucker right in the face. I should try those Zen meditation techniques.

"I don't see Ellie or Lex here," Logan says, pulling the sleeves of his jacket up.

"You know, you can take it off right?"

"No, where's Will?"

I look around, scanning the bunch of people gathered around me, "No idea, probably somewhere in here, you know how he is."

"Miss out on a chance to be alone so he could talk to us? Not in his wildest dreams."

I chuckle, "Will and his ways."

Watching people go over your art, the one you poured your heart and soul into, the one you made when you were at your lowest, is never an easy task. I feel like I cut a piece of my heart and put it on display so people can nit pick over it, wondering why it isn't red enough, why it isn't bloody enough. It's a constant struggle.

Even now I want to walk over there and grab my painting and run back home. Especially when some aged pretentious bastard said 'the artist doesn't know how to mix colours'. Yeah you should know how to colour correct your purple skin, old man.

"Hey, it's going to be alright."

"What is?"

"That's not how it works-"

"-and then we're going to blow it off somewhere hot."

"Yeah?" I deadpan, "You're going to blow it off and why?"

"Because we're brothers, artiste."

"Shut up Lo."

Logan excuses himself, stating very loudly, that he has to go take a shit. Which I know he does not, he just likes to ruin my chances of ever becoming an artist or at least appearing mysterious in an art exhibition so I can suddenly jump on the person who said my painting sucked, and tell them to book an appointment with the eye doctor.

I think Lexie is rubbing off on me.

In front of me, a middle-aged woman is looking at a painting like she's imagining herself in that. It's a lowly lit sketch of a man looking at a stall full of flowers. The whole portrait is covered with shades of beige and white and brown and the yearning in the man's eyes is captured so vividly, it takes my breath away.

"Aaron, my boy!"

I turn around to see Harry Cortland. The agent who called me up and asked me to be a part of this. I almost forgot about him, after I video called him to see if he approved of what I made. His upturned eyes are crinkling from smiling at me too hard and he's a good head or two shorter than me.

"Hello sir."

"Oh I told you to stop with this nonsense, just call me Harry," he shakes my hand firmly and I get a bit nervous under the stare and my palm starts to itch.

"There is a lot of talent here," I say, "Harry."

"And so do you," He winks at me, "I have good news."

The dull chatter stops around me and goosebumps rise on my flesh. I have to swallow air to make sure I am still breathing and my heart has stopped beating inside me and the blood in my veins has stopped. God I hope this is what I think it is.

"What?" my voice doesn't sound as confident as I had hoped it would be.

"Well, you didn't win the 50 grand I thought you would," my face probably falls at that so says rapidly, "But you won twenty thousand dollars."

"What?" My vision spins.

"You won 20k."

"F-From who?"

I lean against eth wall behind me, so I don't topple over this guy and potentially lose everything I just won. But this, oh god this is beyond anything. Twenty thousand is a lot. I take a very visible gulp of air and straighten myself. It could set me for years.

"I am sorry but that's personal information so I cant really tell you the details of the buyer but he did ask me to tell you and I quote that you're one talented son of a bitch and to put this talent to a good yes."

I grab his hand and shake it clumsily, "Thank you, thank you so much sir. It's a dream come true."

There's a fluttering in my stomach and I feel lightheaded. I was seven when I started sketching and I never would've thought I'd make it till here. A kaleidoscope of memories flashes in my head of me sitting in the corner I haunt in my room and sketching for hours on end because Dad said I'd never be enough. Again.

If thirteen year old me could see me now, after this one moment when Dad tore my sketch book because I barely passed in a maths exam, he'd be proud as shit now.

"Alright son, I'll let you soak in the glory," He looks behind me hesitantly, "And I will also leave you to the blonde behind you who looks like she wants to swallow you whole."

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GUYSSSSS WE HIT 100K WTF I LOVE YOU!!!

No seriously, I hit 100k before I finished the book, literal brain freeze skfhuakfghjfsiufjl

I cannot thank you enough even if I tried, you guys literally made my dream come true. I love you, thanks.