A Love For His Art

By DragonMage

Chapter 1

I don't know how it happened. But it did. I woke up suddenly one night, breathing hard and trying to get ahold of whatever emotion was gripping me at the moment. You see, I'm an artist. And like all good artists, poets, writers and the sort, you know that I'm not exactly right up in the head sometimes. Or at least that's what some people tell me. Hey, with the gift of creativity comes the curse of being just a *little* eccentric, right?

Well, that's my excuse...

Oh! Getting back to my story...I woke up without even knowing why I woke up. I just did. I shot out of bed and stood there for a moment before I raced out of the room and into my studio where I paint and, sometimes, sculpt. Although I prefer painting since there's so much life that comes with the colors I brush against the stiff canvas.

I walked over to the blank canvas and picked up a wet brush. It had been days since I got my last inspiration for a painting. And now, in the middle of the night, inspiration hit me like a rock. I stood there for another moment before I began to rapidly, almost crazily, paint with more passion then I have been able to sum up in months!

I just kept painting and painting, changing brushes, getting more paints. I stood there all night long and just painted in the dim moonlight. My hand moved with a life of it's own and my whole body flushed at the intensity I was painting at. My eyes narrowed as I sought out each and every flaw and perfected it. I added a few more touches here and there, worked a little more on the shadows. It was crazy, really. All night till morning I painted and painted and painted. I never stopped once.

Only when my best friend Heero Yuy appeared with his boyfriend Trowa Barton did I finally stop. I would have left them banging on the door all morning if Heero didn't suddenly threaten to blow the door down with his gun. And he does have a gun since he's a CIA agent. But then he would have had one anyway. Ever since we were children, Heero's dream was to own a gun. When he turned the legal age, he went out and immediately bought one. Insane Japanese man. I don't know how we became friends in the first place.

Oh yeah, he beat up a couple of guys who were teasing my hair. Damn, he was a fighter even at age 5!

I answered the door, and I probably looked like a real mess since they just stared at me for a moment before stepping inside.

"What's the matter?" I asked. I blinked for a moment before I turned and looked at the mirror beside the door. I gawked at the sight I made. My hair was a tangled mess, the braid was practically nonexistant, there was smudges of paint everywhere on my face, arms, neck, and clothes, and my eyes were almost wild looking. I was surprised they didn't run from me. But then, knowing Yuy and his boyfriend, they never ran from anything. No wonder they made such a good couple. I couldn't even count the several occasions those two went white water rafting or sky diving or mountain climbing. I swear, both of them had some sort of death wish.

"What have you been doing all morning?" Heero demanded as he stared at me in shock. "I've never seen you like this before!"

"Me neither," Trowa agreed. "Are you sick or something, Duo?"

"Hey, just because I look like a mess doesn't mean I get sick. I've never gotten sick in my life," I protested. I sighed and rubbed my eyes tiredly, scraping off some of the paint on my cheek. "I was just painting."

"Painting? It looks like you got into a fight with one of your paintings," Heero snorted.

"Jeez, give a guy a break! So what if I do that sometimes?" I muttered as I walked past them and into the kitchen where I began to wash off the paint on my arms and face. Then I grabbed one of the many brushes laying around the house and began to pull it through the impossible mess called hair.

"You've been painting all night?" Trowa asked in amazement as he began to move around the kitchen to make some coffee and breakfast. Trowa was the owner of a chain of top notch resturants and loved to cook. Even if it was the simplest things like eggs to the most impossible like one of those fancy cakes that go flat if you just barely touch it or something.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Crazy, ain't it?"

"It's nothing unusual," Trowa said, smiling slightly.

I rolled my eyes.

"So, what do you have in your studio now?" Heero asked as he ripped open a bag of cookies and began to munch on them.

I glared at him. Then I turned to Trowa. "Don't you feed him or something?"

"I do," Trowa said, nodding calmly. "He just tends to finish it faster than I can make it."

"And so, you come here to eat *my* food? I'm a starving artist, Trowa! I can't feed him and myself at the same time!" I cried out dramatically.

Trowa stared at me with his single visible green eye. "Duo, you're one of the richest artists in this country. I don't know what you're talking about."

I pouted. I hated it when he used that against me...

Heero just smirked at me as he continued to polish off my NEW bag of cookies. Thank the gods I had more put away from sight. If I didn't do that, every time Heero came to my house he would eat everything in sight. And damn him, he never gained a single pound!

"You didn't answer my question, Duo," Heero said with exaggerated patience.

I blinked. "What did you ask me?"

Heero rolled his eyes heavenward and shook his head. "How did I end up with a friend like *him*, Lord?"

"Hey, it's your fault. You had to go and kick those guy's asses for me," I pointed out smugly.

"Sadly," Heero murmured thoughtfully.

"Hey!"

"Again, you didn't answer my question," Heero said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"What was your question?" I asked, honest to god baffled. I seriously hadn't heard his question. Or I forgot it. It tends to happen a lot.

"What new masterpiece do you have in your studio?" Heero asked.

"I have a--" I broke off and slumped against the side of the kitchen counter. What did I have? By the gods, I couldn't even remembered what had woken me up in the middle of the night to paint!

"Yes?" Trowa asked as he set the table. "What is it now, Duo? Death? Angels? Blood and angels? Blood, angels and death? Or do you have another rare one of two lovers?"

I glared at Trowa.

"Leave him alone," Heero said in my defense.

"Yeah, Tro-Tro, leave me alone," I echoed.

"Just because he's an idiot and a retard doesn't mean we have to--OW!"

Heero glared at me as he rubbed his forehead that had just met Mister Silver Spoon.

"Hush, Heero," I hissed as I began to pace the kitchen floor. Why couldn't I remember what I had painted? What if I went in there and it turned out to be a mess of color and not some real painting? That would be horrible...

My thoughts drifted off and I didn't see either Heero or Trowa leave the kitchen to my studio in search of my painting. Both of them loved art in a perculiar way and always wanted to see my newest paintings first.

I was in mid-thought when I realized the absence of the two silent men. I blinked, then sighed as I walked to my studio where, no doubt, they would be.

When I walked in I was welcomed with the image of Heero and Trowa gaping at my newest painting, whatever it was.

"By the gods, Duo, this is your best work," Heero breathed.

"It's beautiful," Trowa agreed in the same amazement that was etched in Heero's usually impassive face.

I walked up behind them and stared at the painting. Then I gasped in shock.

"What's the matter?" Heero asked. "It's fantastic."

"I--I actually drew that?" I whispered to myself. "Oh, my god, I never knew I drew *that*!"

Heero and Trowa both looked at me like I was a complete idiot and belonged in the asylum. Which I probably should be in. Sometimes I scared myself with my eccentric behavior and thought.

"You didn't even know what you painted?" Trowa asked in disbelief.

I flushed. "Well...I just--I couldn't....Yeah," I finished lamely.

Heero looked like he was truly ready to have me committed.

But I was to into staring at the painting that had came from *my* hands. I never thought I could actually paint anything remotely close to the beauty that was captured on the canvas. I had I good idea to deny the painting mine and instead I bought it somewhere. It *couldn't* have been done with my hands. It just couldn't! But then I remembered waking up and the long night of painting furiously and I knew that this painting *was* mine and it *did* come from my hands. Even though, it was still hard to swallow that fact.

A young Chinese man stood in the center of the painting. He was dressed in beautiful white robes, just like the Chinese pictures I've seen in art books. A shadow of a gold Chinese dragon floated in the background with the smoky wisps of its power emitting from it behind the boy. The rest of the painting was black and red colors of menace and mystery. Graceful and elegant curves of shadows bordered the painting.

It was dark and brooding with a hint of danger all at the same time while it expressed innocence and the search for...what? What did this painting try to tell the observer? It was an enigma inside an enigma!

But, oh, it was the young man that the true beauty of the painting came from. He was so exotic and...unreal! His silky black hair was left down, brushing against his wonderful shoulders as a few strands fell into his fathomless black eyes that seemed to hold more secrets than a woman. His golden face was serene and his pink tinted lips were curved into a sensuous smile that rivaled the Mona Lisa's.

In short, he was amazingly beautiful.

"I-I--I--!!" was that made itself past my lips. I thought I was going to faint right there and then. No! I couldn't have painted that! Impossible! I painted pictures of fallen angels, death, the demons of hell, and Christ on a few occasions. I painted the heavens and the hells on one canvas that scandalized all religious patrons. But I never paint this sort of art. Surely, it was done my someone else's hand! Never mine!

"Duo, I don't think you should *ever* sell this. It's far too beautiful and...You just can't sell this!" Trowa exclaimed.

"I don't think I will ever sell this one," I whispered almost reverently. No, I would never sell this painting. It was far too precious and important to ever sell. It was going to stay with me till death.

"Where did you find the inspiration for this?" Heero asked softly as he continued to stare at the Chinese young man in amazement. "I've never seen anything like this before..."

"I don't know," I admitted in a baffled tone. "I just woke up suddenly in the middle of the night and ran here. Then...then, I painted."

"Just 'painted'?" Heero repeated. "You didn't paint, Duo. You...created something! Not paint, that word is not strong enough to express what you've done here."

"It's crazy, isn't it?" I asked as I felt a bit of hysteria reach me.

"Crazy, sensual, exotic, insane, dangerous, menace, whatever it is, it's incredible," Trowa said, shaking his head. "Quatre and Zechs have to see this!"

I nodded silently, not really trusting myself to talk anymore. I would just sound like an ass in front of the painting.

Pause. Breathe.

Did I just think of the painting like a living thing?!

I was losing it! I was seriously losing it! After 20 years of being eccentric and not feeling the affects, I was finally losing it! Gods above!

A sudden loud wailing of the fire alarm ripped all three of us out of our thoughts and scared the living hell out of us.

"Breakfast," Trowa murmured.

"I think it's burning," Heero agreed.

"And it's gonna be *my* kitchen that goes down," I suddenly exclaimed as I ran out of the room and as far away from the painting as possible. I just couldn't be in the same room with it anymore. Maybe tonight I'll give it another shot and see if I can examine the thing without going nuts on myself. Until then, I had breakfast and a kitchen to save first! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*coughs* Oy, I think that was weird beyond weird...But hey! I needed to get this outta my system! And it's a good thing since wanting to get a fic out of my system was what began my urge to write yaoi in the first place! *grin* Comments, s'il vous plait (My French is REALLY bad, that's why I love my beta reader Michi so much 'cause she corrected me!)