| A Scene Disintegrates by: Spencer "What's that?" "It's an apple. Move, you're in my light." "Doesn't look like an apple." "Fuck off, it's an apple." "... Sorry." [Swishing of a brush in a cup of water. The peripheral sense of one looking over another's shoulder. You know, that looming feeling. Often irritating.] "Looks a little like a basketball." "Well, I'm not painting a basketball, Daniel, I'm painting AN APPLE." "Why are you painting this basket � apple, anyhow?" "Art class." "You're taking an art class? Heh. Where d'you find the time?" "The class has a very flexible schedule." "Oh. Well that's good." [With slow, intent strokes, the brush moves across the one-dimensional surface of canvas and attempts, in a smudge, to create the illusion of depth. You could hear a pin drop. *Darren is painting.*] "You're terrible." "You're terrible � how can you be so critical?" "I'm not being critical, I'm being honest. But don't worry, some of the greatest artists of the twentieth century have been terrible." "It's still not a very nice thing to say." [Is that a pout? Oh, *Darren.*] "So why art?" "Why art what?" "What?" "Art?" "Yeah." "... Huh?" [Slap!] "Ow!" "Why are you taking an art class?!" "To relieve STRESS!" [Smack!] "And don't *hit* me! Look, you made me mess up." [Giggling] "Seems like you've already got an outlet for stress � me." "Oh, you cause more stress than you relieve ..." "What's that Darren?" "You heard me." "No, I didn't. That's the trouble." [Big stupid pause, vainly attempting to create dramatic tension.] "Could you go rinse this out and get some clean water for me?" "Anything you say, Darren." [Rinse rinse rinse. Fill fill fill.] "Here." "Thanks, Dan." "Now what were you saying about stress?" "I wasn't saying anything." "Ah, yes. I remember now." "Have a seat, Dan, you're distracting me." [Squish.] "No don't sit *there.* Ugh." "Where shall I sit, if not on your lap?" "Over here. Sit here. And for heaven's sake, don't touch anything ..." [A quiet moment. The brush dips carefully into a ridiculous crimson, a colour that apples never are, and moves back toward the paper. Daniel, resting his chin on his hand, watches like a child � fascinated but fidgety. His eyes flicker from brush to fingertip, fingertip to face. Darren's expression screwed up. Concentrating. Out of the corner of his mouth � ] "*Must* you?" "What? I'm just looking!" "Well look at the painting, don't look at me, you make me nervous." "Do I? Well, so far this afternoon I've learned that I cause you stress and make you nervous. This painting class is really opening you up as a person. Come on, is there anything else you'd like to share? Since we're on this streak of being so brutally, bone-crushingly honest?" [The drama, if you'll take my word for it, is high. The tension could be cut as easily as a well-cooked steak � oh, *blech,* let's pretend it's not steak, Spencer doesn't eat meat! � as a well-cooked piece of asparagus. Anyway, they're staring at each other. Staring. Always staring.] "I love you." [A smile quirks brightly over Daniel's face.] "Oh, how sweet." "What?" "I think that's nice of you to say. I feel bad for being so annoying now." "Did you hear what I said, at all?" [A nod.] "Of course." "... Daniel? I mean, I love you." [Blank look.] "Really. Like, kiss-kiss love." [An eyebrow raised in affirmation � oh, ho, look how he worked the album title in ...] "In a *gay* way." [A giggle, betraying a hint of absurd glee.] "Daniel! You're supposed to be surprised! Shocked, taken aback, at least a *little* uncomfortable!" "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this. Do you want to start over?" "No, no, you've wrecked it now." "Oh, but I know how much you like role-playing. Come on, let's do another one. I have to practice for when we're old and our marriage actually needs spicing up." [Resigned sigh.] "Alright. Let's do the one where we're stuck in an elevator." "No, we haven't got an elevator." "Oh. You're right. Okay � how about Botched Hotel Reservations And There's Only One Bed?" [Daniel rolls his eyes.] "Voyeurism And Makeup?" "It's been done. But I'll tell you what, Darren ..." [As he moves closer to Darren's ear, his voice lowers.] "I'm going to go up to the bedroom and take off all my clothes. All I want you to do is throw out the scripts, shut off the soundtrack, send the set designers home for the day ..." [His voice now barely above a whisper, Daniel's hand traces a line up Darren's chest. He punctuates his sentence with gentle kisses on his skin.] "Come upstairs ... and improvise." ~The End~ |