Chapter 4: Ch. 4

     Jens sits in a bar with Sherry. Sherry is Jens’ long time friend. Born and raised on the same block, they spent most of their childhood together. Sherry is a good listener. She’s heard about most of Jens’ trials and tribulations. In return, he has helped her many times with her boyfriend troubles, though his responses are usually “he sounds like a loser anyway, ditch him”. They have a relationship where they could share anything. Jens never thought it was strange but there has been more than once that a girlfriend of his lashed out with jealousy. Sherry remains unbothered, unable to view Jens as anything other than an annoying, gross and gangly brother. 

“Then the old man asked me to stay hard the whole time!”

Sherry balks, gnawing on the straw in her cup. “Isn’t that illegal? How can he legally pay you for something like that?!”

Jens raspberrys his lips “fuck if I know- he said it was to inspire his students”

“So did you do it? This sounds way too pervy.” She snaps the points a finger at him.  “Ya know, I knew that professor was weird. ”

Jens throws his shoulders back looking a little too comfortable. “Hah? Of course I did! He paid me time and a half!”

Sherry dramatically slams her head to the table “Jennnnns! Nooo, you can’t just sell your body like that!”

He shrugs “Why the hell not? That’s what modeling is right? You gonna say that to the dudes in Vogue or…” he rolls his wrist unable to think of another magazine  “..whatever?”

She laughs, her nose crinkling at his logic. “But they’re getting paid way more than that! And this just sounds, like-  I don’t know an abuse of power or taking advantage of the poor or something”

”Welp-” Jens smirks remembering Kei pressed against him in the stall. He shrugs. “Nah, it all worked out in the end. I made class interesting”

She stops laughing after seeing the expression on his face “What does that mean? Why are you smirking, what did you do? Your face gives you away too easily you know!”

She connects the dots and does the math “…Wait you stayed hard for half an hour?”

“uh yeah?” Jens looks at her with a ‘What, like that’s difficult?’ expression.

She’s both terrified and impressed. “H-How?”

“I just..thought of stuff?” His face reads ‘what are you stupid? Do you not know how these things work?’.

She makes a disgusted face but her tone stays impressed. “People with dicks baffle me. I really don’t get it. The dudes I’m interested in last FIVE minuets but you- the block headed barbarian that you are, can do that” she sighs “Honestly, it’s not fair” he chuckles. She rarely compliments him so he takes that as words of admiration. “That’s what you get for going for the cutesy ones. Next time find a dude who can run more than just to his math class”

Sherry rolls her eyes. Jens ponders the idea of what category of attraction Kei would fall under. Would he be considered a cutesy type? No. His face is too cold. He’s more pretty…maybe sensual? Hell, I didn’t call him Pretty face for no reason.

Jens pauses with his face blank. Only now realizing how much space Kei is still occupying in his brain.

“Sherry, am I gay?”

She spits out her drink choking on it. Through a coughing sputter she croaks “Why are you asking me that?! Are you??”

“Dunno, I hooked up with one of the art students after the class was over. I thought of him again just now.” Matter of fact. No point hiding the details now.

She chokes again, this time inhaling her drink.  “You WHAT?!”

“It wasn’t anything serious, I didn’t even know his name at the time” Jens should diffuse this before she dies of aspiration.

She puts her head on the table breathing in clean air. “I can’t handle this Jens. I’m not strong enough to be your friend. Your wild cards are too wild for me. I- I feel feint” she looks up at him from her place on the table. This was big news, she can’t let her chance to hear about Jens escapades escape her even if it means death by margarita inhalation. “…How was it?”

Jens stares into his beer “It was good” then takes a sip.  Good? It was incredible. I only used my hands, he hardly touched me, yet I can’t stop thinking about him. His face was- unforgettable. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since it happened. Good? If that’s good then Mother Teresa was a ‘just alright’ woman.

“Good enough for you to think youre into dudes now?”

“Hmmm I dunno, maybe” he mumbles into his mug.

Sherry lets out a broken “Sheesh” through a laugh. She crosses her arms and shrugs. “More power to you then. Send the straights my way” Jens stares into his beer a little longer, he doesn’t know what to say from that point on.

She takes the pickle from his plate, chewing loudly in a way she only does when she’s alone or around Jens. “What’s he look like?”

“Mmm? He’s pretty.. short I think.” Sherry is annoyed by Jens typical man description, she hoped for more detail. She should have expected this though, more often than not she only got a hair color to describe Jens’ new girlfriends. 

“Everyone is short compared to you! Details! Give me details! I went there, I might know him from class!” 

Jens shrugs “Black hair with some blonde in it. He’s sorta thin, lean I guess. Maybe 150lbs?” 

Sherry stares at him with a dumbfounded expression. “He’s not an MMA fighter! Don’t just list off his stats! God, getting information from you is like pulling teeth!” She flops back in her seat.

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She frowns placing her hands firmly on the table. “Wait, you didn’t just hook up with him because you were frisky from doing pervy things for the class right? Cause it’d be pretty shitty to use him just because of that.”

 Ever Jens’ voice of wisdom and moral compass, she has a point.

“No! Well— Yes..But no! It all started because of him” he rolls his eyes “He’s annoying too okay? Stuck up. Wise-ass. B-But then he gets all cute and whiny when-“

She shakes her head holding out her hand. “Stop, I’m not one of the boys- I don’t want to hear about that. please spare me” she’s making a disgusted face unable to picture Jens, who she views as family, doing anything remotely sexual.

Jens sighs and scrubs at his hair “I’m just kinda confused. Not because I found a dude attractive, I’ve never had a problem being open to that but…more like, why him of all people? His personality wasn’t exactly great.”

“I don’t know, maybe you guys just have good chemistry”

“Hmm.” He takes another sip.

————

    Kei is in his studio, a workspace he rented across the street from his apartment. He spends more time here than at home. It’s a small area with only one main room, a kitchenette and a full bathroom. There isn’t much furniture. A work desk, couch, coffee table, and T.V. take up a small portion of the room. Odd chairs, stools, pedestals and linen stay piled in a corner to be used for reference and model posing. He’s sitting hunched over, cross-legged on the floor. It is 2 .a.m. His hands ache, his back hurts, his eyes feel grainy. He rubs his eyelids, exhausted. He’s surrounded by drawings of hands and shoulders, furrowed eyebrows and legs. He’s concentrating and analyzing all his pages. He scrubs at his face “ahhhhh shit!” He pulls his hair back and clips it into place. Chewing on the cuticle of his thumb, looking back down at all the pieces of Jens littered on the floor. What the fuck is going on. I keep coming back to him. No matter what reference I start off using, it turns into him. I must be losing my mind. What’s so special about him? Show-off, no good for nothing, handsome, strong-enough-to-pick-me-up, jerk. 

He throws his papers sending them scattering in a flutter. “I have a fucking muse.”

     Kei is hanging up the images and looking at them. It felt like a walk of shame collecting them off the ground after his tantrum. Every page has a unique feeling to it. He tilts his head, walks closer and then further away. He squints, turns around, counts to 30 and then turns back, but it’s undeniable. These pieces have emotion. He can’t figure out what’s changed in his work. From pencil to ink to paint, no matter what medium he uses, Jens’ charm stands out boldly. Kei doesn’t remember all the details. Most of the pieces are incomplete, portraits missing ears and hands floating in negative space, but the details he does remember are crystal clear. When he closes his eyes he can see every crease of the forehead and feel every knuckle. This is torture.  Kei flops down at his desk. Rolling his chair and sliding his sketch pad towards himself. He twirls his pencil and twists his hand in his hair. His shape is all I can think about. Every line I placed sets my hands on fire. I want to keep drawing him forever. How did this happen? I survived years of art school, training, shows, all without falling into the trap of a muse. Chewing on his thumb he goes through what went wrong. But why now. Why him? I never wanted a muse. I’d rather live uninspired and die an unknown artist than to rely on the existence of another person to fuel my passion. He clips his hair back again after his turmoil having caused him to yank it out of place. He remembers Jens’ face as he was in the classroom, his eyes taunting Kei. He picks up his pencil and begins sketching Shit. Shit! I need to contact my professor.

    I can’t do this. Even if I say Jens is my muse. Even if I were to use him to put my paintings in the exhibit- That’s if can even get into the exhibit.. even if all that happens, it won’t matter. What good is showing off a few pieces that move people if I can’t replicate that feeling with any other subject? What good am I as an artist if I can only preform under these conditions? What good am I as an artist at all, if I can’t even handle this much!? 

Kei’s stomach churns. I’m gonna be sick. Kei runs to the bathroom and empties his stomach into the toilet bowl. He leans back against the bath tub and clips his hair back again for the 32nd time that night. Cold sweat breaking out on his skin, which felt like sand paper, he exhales slowly trying to calm down. I can’t do this. I’m not good enough. I’m not even a good enough person to hope to be able to paint for a living. I don’t deserve any of this. I can’t even think with out worrying myself sick. I’m just not capable of this. Kei checks the clock on his phone, it’s 5 a.m. He has a 9 a.m. Sculpture Seminar. Then a 12 p.m. Theory and History of Art. But before all that he should meet Professor Wells at 8 a.m. to turn down his offer. He also has to complete the commission work he agreed to when he was in a better head space. There’s also commissioned logos he has to finish. Those are due in three days and he needs to go to the Visual Arts department because his Illustrator subscription account crashed. His breathing is ragged. I’m fucked. Kei lays down on the rug in front of the tub. At least I’m not surrounded by his face in here. He closes his eyes for what feels like fifteen minuets before his alarm is blaring. 

————

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept your offer to join the exhibit” Kei is standing before Professor Wells looking haggard. He’s given up on containing his hair. At this point, he’s even worried about going bald from the amount he yanks on it. The professor frowns at Kei’s disheveled state. “I was expecting good news.” Kei looks down. He doesn’t want to see the disappointed look in Professor Well’s eyes. He’s already seen enough disappointment in his own while staring in the mirror getting ready this morning. He struggles to find his voice. “I just- don’t think I can handle it”

“No one can kei but that pressure is what breeds creativity. I have never seen your work read with so much emotion. How did you feel when working on these pieces?” Wells puts it so matter of factly. That one question sends Kei’s mind spiraling. How did it feel to have Jens in his grasp?

“I felt- really good. Like every line I placed was exactly where it was supposed to be..I love these pieces too but- I don’t think I’ll be able to stay inspired” Kei fights the urge to keep his hands from fidgeting. He needs to sound firm in his decision before Wells can sway him. 

“Even if jens continues to model for you?”

Kei winces. That felt like a low blow. Of course, for Professor Wells, it was the next logical step. “I Can’t- I don’t do muses”

The professor sighs “Kei- I think you’re thinking too deeply into this. Muses have driven artists for millennia. Through ancient China, Rome, Spain. Sculptors, painters, writers- Muses have driven man to create! Having a muse isn’t a short coming” He bows his head to meet Kei’s eyes and smiles “You look like you’ve been to hell and back over this, but it’s as simple as it sounds”

Kei sighs. He stops his hand as it reaches for his hair. You’ll go bald. Then you’ll be ugly and bad at art. No, no. Stop thinking like this.  “But- that’s not the same! I- I can’t have all my passion rely on one person. What if he doesn’t want to work with me! What if he does work with me and then decides to quit! What if I obsess over this one thing and end up losing the indivudiality of myself?! What if I can’t produce anything but this? Professor Wells, I feel like I might lose myself if I do this” Kei feels his heart picking up pace again. He knows his voice is shaking. He knows his usually outwardly composed stature is crumbling. He can’t help it. He can’t stop the panic that overwhelms him.

“Ok, ok. Breathe! You’re not proposing to him! Having a muse means that there is something that drives you to express yourself. Muses don’t need to be people it could be the wind in the grass or a smell, or music- would you reject grass as a muse?” Again Wells’ question snaps Kei back to reality. The aloof look on his face says ‘You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill’. Kei suddenly feels very silly. The lack of sleep, the uncontrolled anxiety, all of it spun Kei so far away from reality. 

Kei’s matter of fact brain is switched on again. All his logic and composure slowly returns to him. Did he just need to talk this out with someone? Did he only need someone to tell him he was allowed to want to dream big? Probably, but Kei doesn’t see that. He can’t recognize just how out of control he was, because in that moment, it all felt very real. 

“What? No, why would grass inspire me?”

“Why would a man? It’s all the same. It is something what awakens our spirit. Just-“ Professor Wells takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please Kei- for the sake of an old man who wants to see you succeed, contact Jens. Try to do the exhibit. Just fuckin’ have a muse. It’s really not that big of a deal” The unfamiliar curse leaving Professor Wells’ mouth makes Kei laugh. A sigh of relief. He feels like he can finally breathe again. Was it really as simple as this? Was the world as simple as doing what feels right? Is there really no reason to deny myself this incredible feeling? Is there really a reason to deny myself of Jens?

Kei groans covering his eyes with his hand. He felt like a fool. He felt stupid for ever getting so worked up. He’s embarrassed for himself for having that breakdown last night. He was still lacking the confidence needed for the exhibit, but the thought of seeing Jens again does something to his chest that he can’t understand. Kei nods with a feeling of resignation, the submission to his greatest fear, an acceptance of his new fate.

“Fine. I’ll ask him.”

 

 

 

 

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