Case checked his watch for the forty seventh time. Five minutes. He was improving. The last time he'd looked, it had only been three. It was 10:45: well past closing time, but the guards hadn't minded his presence once he had slipped them a couple of bills.

With a slight frown, he shifted the writing materials from his lap to the museum bench and stretched before taking them up again. Besides the hum of the artificial lighting, his exhausted sigh was the only sound that disturbed the otherwise empty room. As his gaze returned to the work of art before him, his expression was like that of a person faced with a plate of maggots.

Damned required history class. History could go to hell for all he cared.

Case grit his teeth and turned back to the historic painting of Demaitre's founders in grim determination, pen in hand. He was sick of staring at these old men and women, painted up "artistically" in shades of rotten brown. His stomach rumbled quietly; he'd missed two meals sitting here in front of what he considered a waste of good printing paper and machine oil.

At least he had only four more paragraphs to go. He would finish this pointless art history paper today or die trying.

Case snatched a few pieces of clean white paper from his pile of material and began to write furiously, looking up every so often to check his bullshit with the painting itself. It was odd, writing on actual paper instead of typing it on his laptop, but the guards wouldn't allow that in the museum at any price. For the first time, a small smirk appeared around his lips. They were right to be afraid.

"Shit!" The smirk faded as the tip of his pencil snapped. "Fucking natural shit." Case swore, threw the pencil against the wall and reached for another, continuing to write. "And it's color scheme... monochrome brown... with blurred outlines... which shows the artist's -- shit!" He glared at the second broken pencil in his hand and sighed, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

The lights illuminating the hanging art flicked slightly, and Case jerked his head toward the movement in surprise. After a moment of puzzlement, he shrugged. "Yeah, fuck you too," he muttered at the painting. The people painted within it smiled back at him with their flat, monochrome faces.

It was going to be a long night.

There were a lot of things that happened in life that you didn't expect to happen. For instance, he hadn't expected his father to just not come home one night becuase he'd died. That had been a surprise. He hadn't expected his lover to get shot. That had been a bit of a shocker as well.
Hell, there were a lot of things that happened that you didn't see coming. Some were devestating, others were funny.

And some, like hearing someone exclaim, "shit!" in a public museum, were just plain... unexpected.
And worth giving a small, amused snigger.

He'd been examining a painting of a bowl of fruit (of all things) when the first curse word had ricoched off the walls. Though not offended, he'd been curious, and followed the continuing one-sided profanity-filled conversation until he located its source a few corridors down. A young man (probably a few years April's senior) was seated on one of the museum benches with his back to April, aura full of restless electricity. He was hunched over something and scribbling furiously, lifting his head only once in a while to glare at the happy people in the painting before him.
Oh.
'School work, some kinda essy, it's gotta be.' Smirking slightly, he walked up behind the dark-haired male just as the second pencil snapped. Sighing, April pulled a spare pen out of his jacket pocket. "Here, try this. It'll be harder to break."

Case whirled around, startled at the sound of the young man's voice. Upon noticing the proximity of the man's uncovered hand, he jerked away from it with a sharp hiss of breath through tightly pressed teeth. Closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his chest for a moment, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

Then, slightly embarrassed at his reaction, he straightened in his seat and stared at the stranger and his outstretched pen with suspicion rising in his eyes. Friendliness had never been a virtue of his, and the shock of almost-touch a few seconds ago had done nothing to make him less wary. Case's hands clenched and unclenched at the papers on his lap as he shifted his feet, ready to run at an instant's notice.

"Is this some kind of joke?" The question was out before Case could stop himself. It was a stupid question to ask, he thought immediately; the only way this guy could've been here was if he had tipped the guards off as well or actually was one of the police in plain clothes. You never did know, and with his luck, it was probably the latter. Case's eyes narrowed to slits of green. "How did you get in here? The museum is closed."

April's grin faded quickly, stunned by how much affect his sudden presence had had on the stranger. God, he hadn't meant to scare the living daylights out of the man; he just wanted to give him a pen. He probably should have announced his presence instead of sneaking up from behind, but now that he had done the latter he felt terribly guilty. The expression on the raven-haired guy's face reminded April of a cornered rabbit.

Here, April allowed a tiny grin, just a small attempt to lighten the situation; he could tell he was treading uneasy waters. "I came in just before closing time, and kept myself out of sight since then. Normally I don't mind crowds, but..." he glanced at the tall painting before them and shrugged. "Sometimes the whole art appriciation thing is more fun alone." Fixating his eyes on the papers in the young man's lap, he nodded at them and said, "So, what are you doing here past closing hours?" April was careful to keep his voice low. Although the soft shoes he was wearing kept his footsteps quiet and undetectable, voices would bring whatever security the museum had down on them in an instant.

"Art... appreciation?" Case almost spat the words back at the man in disgust and disbelief as he blinked in surprise. Something in his countenance slammed shut like a door; thoughts of police and possible jail time left his mind, and his fears and vulnerability instantly dissipated into a not-so-subtle contempt. So there were actually people that enjoyed this painting stuff. He glanced down at his scribbled paper and smirked, one eyebrow rising slightly in amusement. "I was also... appreciating... art," he replied dryly, motioning to the painting. "Examining the great emotional depths of this wondrous piece that some loser artist decided to paint in the meaningful color of shit."

He hesitated for a second, then reached out and plucked the pen skillfully from the young man's outstretched hand, careful to avoid touching his skin. Case did have his gloves on, as usual, but no contact was good contact, as far as he was concerned. Flipping the cap off the pen, he nodded once, curtly; an odd, mechanical, almost automated smile lifted the corners of his mouth and yet left his eyes flat and blank. "Thanks. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more lifeshattering truths to uncover."

April grinned at the dismissal. Leave? Not likely. "Sorry, man, but this is a public place," he replied with a wink. "Besides, you've got potential to be excellent company."
April wasn't stupid; his companion wasn't the kind you messed with, the kind who disliked getting messed with to the point where rudeness could become hostility. Not that this guy wasn't approaching that breaking point already. April was obviously already on the guy's 'people I hate' list because he admitted enjoying his time here staring at the paintings. But, still... April found him inescapably intriguing. Maybe it was the trenchcoat, or the messy hair, or the man's altogether 'don't fuck with me' disposition. Actually, those three in combination were quite sexy...
"You never answered my question, you know, about why you're also here after hours. It's the paper, right? Has to be something for school."

Case answered without turning around. "Oh. You go to DU?" It was almost impossible to tell whether what he had just murmured was a question; his voice was a flat, bored monotone all the way through. No spark of any actual interest lingered around his words. "I told you. I was... appreciating art. Required class. Apparently, all of us must appreciate art in order to graduate. God knows why."

Realizing what he had just said, Case burst into dry laughter. "I just said God, didn't I?" He coughed a bit, then corrected himself, glancing at the young man. "Excuse me. I meant, no one knows why." He lifted one black gloved hand, waving it delicately around in a mockery of condescending class. "Isn't it horrible, the habitualness of humanity?"

Without waiting for a response, he abruptly dropped his arm and cut his laughter short. The faint mirth in his eyes died without a trace as he looked away, checking his watch. "Fuck. I have no time for this."

"DU? As in, University?" He chuckled. "Sorry, looks like you're the old man here. I'm just a senior in high school." Truthfully, April really had been surprised to hear his companion was in college; he'd been certain the guy was no older than April himself. Well, that just went to show what you got for assuming things about people.
He observed silently as the man checked his watch again and grumbled. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and he looked like he'd been at this way longer than was healthy. April's pen was grasped tightly in his hand, and he seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes open. Sighing, April scooted a few inches closer. "My name's April. You look like you're about to drop dead of exhaustion, and if it's all the same to you I'd wouldn't mind giving you a hand with that paper." Slowly and carefully (he didn't want a repeat of the earlier incident with the pen), he held out his hand in invitation.

"Yeah, DU as in University." Case shifted away from April as he extended his hand, watching him for any sudden moves. One eyebrow rose in cynical doubt at his offer of help. "You really are one of those dreamer artsy liberal types... a senior in high school, huh." Case shrugged. "Haven't learned that going around and helping strangers is dangerous yet? Get yourself killed someday." A smile played around his lips. "I could be a mass murderer, for all you know. Tomorrow, you could be a corpse decorating this museum of fine human art..."

Then he crossed his arms, tapping the shaft of the pen against his shoulder, observing April. The young man's age had come as a surprise; Case had completely forgotten about it after determining that the boy had no connection with the law. The guy was pretty tall for his years. It didn't seem as if he was joking about the help, either, though it didn't matter to Case either way: it wasn't as if he had ever had any problems with simply using people as means to an end.

"Alright. Why not? Help me if you want." He glanced pointedly at April's hand, which still hovered in the air, with clearly no intention of taking it. "But I don't got anything on me. Don't expect anything in return."

"You can call me Case."

"You don't look the mass murderer type," April replied, reflectively studying the glittering green eyes of his companion. "And as for doing stupid things that could get me killed... well, that's my funeral, not yours, isn't it?"

Funeral... morbid thought. He'd had enough experience with those.

Casually, April flipped a shock of his long blonde hair over his shoulder where it wouldn't get in his eyes. "Case, huh? Fits..." He dropped his hand when he saw that it was, under no circumstances, going to be taken. He was getting the feeling that touch was something alien for Case, something he took extra precautions to avoid. The gloves, his refusal to shake hands, and the way he kept himself at a distance were proof enough of that.
In this personality trait, he and April were most definately at odds. April defined his world through touch. Human contact was comforting, grounding, something that everyone needed. He couldn't imagine anyone actually AVOIDING it.
'What happened to you...?'

Hiding his musings behind a disarming grin, April shrugged. "I don't want anything, and I wasn't expecting anything. So, what's this essay of yours supposed to be on?"

Case blinked at April's quick acceptance of zero payment. So he really is one of those people... Case shook his head. Whatever.

"Business, then. Siddown." He turned toward April, pulling his feet up onto the bench in front of him, and placed his materials down to his left; as Case sat at the very right end, this effectively blocked the young man from sitting too close to him. He wrapped his arms around his knees, perhaps a subconscious desire for more protection. "Looking up at you is making my neck hurt."

"Hmm. I wrote this down somewhere..." Case rummaged through his papers, then slid one out of the pile. "We're supposed to find our randomly assigned painting in the museum and write about its artistic composition, structure, symbolism, meaning, and history," he read, "and how all that shit affects its portrayal of humanity and human virtues." He practically spat the last word, giving the piece of paper a glare before crumpling it up in his hand.

"Didn't think it'd be so bad. They do have some nice pieces in here; have you looked in the room with the abstract steel sculptures?" Case pointed at the monochromatic brown of the founders of Demaitre before him. "But lucky me, I got this piece of shit. It even looks like shit." He rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands, stifling a yawn. "Hmm. I said that already, didn't I? I feel like I'm going insane."

April laughed out loud, then quickly muffled it behind his hand as he swung one leg over the bench to sit straddling it. "Well, I did say you looked tired. To be honest, I'm surprised you're still coherent." Picking up the scribbled writing that was Case's composition, he scanned it for a few moments before raising his eyebrows. "For a guy who's exhausted, you sure write one hell of an essay," he commented, impressed. "Especially when there's not much to go on," he added, giving the ill-favored painting a look. "I can't argue that you got the short end of the stick; founding father pieces, with the exception of a few, are usually the most boring around." He set the essay back down between them and discreetly observed that, once again, Case's chosen position was one that shut others out. It was bugging the hell out of April not to inquire about it, but by rules of social interaction (and his own moral standards) personal questions were not on the list for 'stuff to ask new acquaintances.'
"This looks pretty much finished to me. How much more are you supposed to write?"

"The part about humans and human virtues. All that other academic stuff is easy." Case shrugged, stretching his arms out straight and resting his elbows on his knees. "How the hell does this thing say anything about humanity and human virtues? So these old guys decided to settle in a land of green and prosperity and flush it down the shitter to accomodate people... Greed, selfishness, and corruption are all the virtues there are in this. Shit. I guess they are considered virtues in today's business world."

Case sighed, blowing air up through his bangs and brushing a hand through his hair in dejection. He turned, looking sideways at April. "You got any ideas?"

April tilted his head to the side, just slightly, and studied Case. REALLY studied him. He looked like your average, stereotyped goth; pale skin, dark hair, black clothes... but what he'd said just now, profanity aside, wasn't at all dark and lifeless. It was vibrant. Like some kind of light that hid itself in a fortified and blackened room but refused to go out. Vibrant and full of vitality... like his eyes. Case's light shone in his eyes.

"I might have to agree with you there... this city was probably a lot nicer when it was just trees and grass... probably smelled better, too." He leaned back a notch, and rested his hands on his knees. "But I'd say your best bet would be to BS something about how the founders were an excellent example of determination, perserverence, and courage, to bring civilization to the wilderness. How there was nothing, and then they came along and made a home for those where were lost and had nowhere else to go." Frowning, he shifted, then reached back and scratched his head. "My god... I think I've just half-convinced myself..."

"Fuck you." The explosiveness of his words startled even Case himself. "Fuck you, fuck all of that shit, and fuck whoever believes it." He grit his teeth. "I'm just glad that we'll eventually destroy ourselves one day--"

Then, an odd expression came over his face, and he glanced at the painting again, this time with more puzzlement than anger. "Or maybe... that's what this guy is trying to say..." He uncrumpled the paper in his hand, read over it, then nodded. "All it says is describe it's portrayal of humanity and humanity's virtues. Maybe this thing's saying that they have none..."

He jumped to his feet, approaching and examining the painting with newfound interest, placing a gloved hand against the glass protecting the painting itself. "Look. They're flat, they've got no shadows, their outlines are fuzzed, and it's unproportional--the scenery dominates the figures--" A cynical half-smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "And it's all shit-brown. Perfect color."

April jumped at Case's sudden outburst. That was to be expected, and Case had seemed just as surprised at his actions as April did. But then... he calmed. Just like that, the angry young man was calm, and thoughtful, and running his gloved fingers over the glass as though he had found the secret to life.
April kept still, let the silence last as long as it needed to. In the back of his mind, wheels were turning, thoughts and feelings were being filed away, the most prominent being that he suddenly, desperately wanted to get to know Case better. After this discussion, they would part, go their seperate ways. And April wasn't about to let such a wonderfully complex puzzle like Case get away just like that.

When the tension seemed to lessen, April commented, "For someone who says the word 'art' with such disdain, you certainly have exceptional insights on it. Do you really think we're all going to destroy ourselves one day?"

"Oh, sure," Case murmurs, eyes still fixated on the painting. "It's human nature. 'We all want just want to die, a little bit.' We say we're different from all the other animals -- well, that would be why we're inferior."

He rubbed his glove off onto his coat and turned, looking down at April on the bench. "I say 'art' with 'such disdain' because 'art' is completely subjective. What I think about this painting now might be making its painter roll over in his grave." Case stuck his thumbs in his pockets, gaze going distant. "I don't want to interpret and guess and hypothesize. I don't want to see... what I want to see. I want to see what's there."

He returned to the bench and sat down, pulling papers into his lap. When he spoke, his voice was dry. "Other words, bullshit cut out, I'm a math person."

'I want to see what's there...' April repeated in his mind. It was like saying what you feared most of all was fear itself. Each word this man spoke was like some great and profound philosophy. The conclusions Case had come to may have sounded morbid, but they were extremely wise.
April watched the gloved hands collect the papers, and smiled at Case's comment about being a math person. "To tell you the truth," April replied, "I'm not quite sure where I am on the personality spectrum. I like art, I like the idea of one painting inspiring one hundred ideas from one hundred people with one hundred points of view, but... I don't like deluding myself from the truth, either. I did that once, for quite a few months, actually. It hurt more when reality finally bit me in the ass and told me to move on." This small confession was followed by a nervous laugh. "So I can appriciate your philosophy of wanting to see what's really there. I'd like to do that, someday... I just don't think I'm quite ready for it yet."
'I can't believe I just told him that...' April thought, dazed. It wasn't like him to just bear his heart on his sleeve, not after having had it run through so many times. He hoped to God he hadn't just screwed things up for himself.

"Oh? Good for you." Case had stopped listening quite a while ago, busily writing down his last few thoughts. He made a few noncommittal noises now and then. "Hmm."

The sudden silence made him look up. April sat still, looking dazed and somehow oddly vulnerable. Case thought back, trying to remember what he'd caught of the monologue. Something about paintings and delusions and asses; he hadn't caught as much as he'd thought. He shrugged. Whatever it was, it wasn't his business.

With a final flourish, he scripted the last word of his paper and tossed the pen back to April, ignoring the still dazed expression on his face. Then he rose, collecting his materials. "I'm about done here. Thanks for the pen."

April's daze left him in time to catch the pen. Shaking himself slightly, and willing the meloncholy mood to leave him, he looked back up just as Case was preparing to leave. April's mask was back in place, all trace of vulnerability gone. The carefree attitude returned, along with the conviction that this just could not be the last time he saw Case.
Unfortunately, there was a down side to thinking that fast without backtracking and reconsidering. The words were out of his mouth before he could organize them, and suddenly he was bringing one foot up to rest on the bench, leaning forward on his knee, smiling playfully and blurting, "Have coffee with me."

Case froze in the act of piling papers and tilted his head to regard April with a look of confusion. The guy just got weirder and weirder. "What? Coffee? Now?" He waved his watch in front of April's eyes. "It's almost 1 A.M." Then he looked at it himself and groaned. "1 A.M... Damn. And I've got to go type this shit up."

He resumed his paper collecting, then turned toward April again. "Mind moving your boot? That's my conclusion you have under there."

Definately should have thought that out first... "No, not now, of course not," he amended, but didn't move the offending foot. "Tomorrow, this weekend, whatever works for you. And it doesn't have to be coffee... it can be an ice cream soda for all I care." He glanced at the conclusive section of Case's assignment he held prisoner, then back up at Case. "It's not mandatory, and I'm not going to try and weasel you into it." The paper was drawn out from under its captor and held out in Case's direction. "No strings attached, and if you finish your drink and decide you'd rather be elsewhere, I'll respect that." April let the smile return, and this time if was accompanied by a teasing flicker in his gold-hued amber eyes. "All I'm asking is one day. You, me, and a nice drink saturated with caffine."

Case slid the paper from April's grasp and added it to the bottom of his pile, then stretched and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. "Mmm. I could go for caffiene right now." He was beginning to think that the first invitation actually hadn't sounded so bad. "It'll probably make me stay up all night... Oh, what the hell. People already think I'm some kind of vampire. As long as I can stay awake long enough to hand this shit in."

Case folded the papers and stuck them into his jacket, pressing them flat. "If you're serious about the caffiene, now actually works." He placed a hand at his chin, thinking. "Know anywhere that's open?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Internally, April knew he was grinning like an idiot.
Externally, the smile only widened a bit as he casually stood. He was surprised to find that Case was a good number of inches taller than him. Case's habit of scrunching himself into a ball in order to avoid contact had somehow made him seem shorter. April found he preferred this taller version of Case.
"There's only one decent coffee place in this city, and as far as I know it's open almost twenty-four hours. We could go there. I hear they make excellent cappuccinos. Sound acceptable?"

Case sighed. "Sure. What the hell." He walked outside, with April close behind; a few guards passed them as they left, but, seeing Case, only gave them nods and went on their way. As they approached the main entrance to the museum, Case fell back and let April lead the way. "Your turn."

As they exited the museum through the revolving door, Case stopped suddenly, as if struck by a thought. The door hit him in the back, and he stumbled out after April, wincing and scratching at the back of his head. After the rampant cursing slowed to a trickle, the two headed on down the road; the silence of the 1 A.M. street was broken only by Case's question, perhaps the thought that had struck him so inconveniently in the revolving door.

"April, huh. Who the hell named you, anyway?"



[Fin.]