Finding August

Chapter Eleven

August sighed, dropping his phone. He rested his head on his raised palms as he tried not to let what had just happened get to him.

Vincent was ignoring him.

August sighed, running his hands through his hair. Vincent was obviously mad at him. He sat up in his chair, feeling his study table for a stray pencil. He found one and proceeded to sketch on a drawing pad to calm his nerves. Vincent was angry with him, and it unnerved August that he wasn't there to explain himself.

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"I apologized already," August muttered, watching Vincent flip through the channels. Vincent had obviously heard him but had just decided to ignore him.

"Fine, if that's how you want to go about it," August muttered, his voice coming out in a shaken tone. "She insulted me, and I stood up for myself. You should be mad at her, not me, but I'm still apologizing."

Vincent didn't move, he just stared on at the outdated television. August saw Vincent's jaw tighten, but that was the only reaction he got out of him.

"Okay then," August muttered, looking away from Vincent as his eyes burned. He didn't know why Vincent was being this way. "I'm going to bed."

August left the living room, heading to bed like he said he would. He slipped under the covers, pulling them tightly about himself as he stared into space. He occasionally fell into deep thoughts or just dozed off because he was sincerely tired.

August's eyes widened when he heard the noise from the TV in the living room die down. Vincent must have turned it off. August felt his heart tighten. It was only a matter of time before he'd know if Vincent would sleep right there in the living room, guest room or come back to their bedroom.

The noise of Vincent walking about made August giddy. August heard the door to the bedroom door creak open. He shut his eyes, pretending to sleep. There was more moving, and soon the space beside him on the soft mattress sunk with Vincent's weight.

A few minutes passed until August heard Vincent let out a sigh before he pulled the covers to crawl underneath. August's eyes automatically shut more tightly when Vincent wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him closer.

"I'm sorry," Vincent muttered into August's dark brown curls. August didn't say anything but he let his eyes open so he could stare blankly at the bedroom wall.

"I just didn't expect you to blow up at my sister. I just want the two of you to get along..." Vincent trailed as August felt a hand run down his side in a soothing motion. August found himself shrugging plainly at Vincent's words. He hadn't expected to blow up in front of his sister either.

"Anita's always trying to talk me out of being with you," Vincent muttered. "She's always saying that you're snobbish and not just enough, and I know that's very far from the truth."

August let his eyes wander about the room. He didn't like making Vincent sad, but there was no way he could have just stood there and let her talk down to him.

"Now that you've fought, she's going to use this as some reason to have something against you. Come on, August, talk to me. It's odd just talking and not knowing if you're even paying me any attention."

"Well, you weren't talking to me," August muttered before sighing at the realization that he'd just spoken. Vincent laughed, hugging August.

"I love you so much. You know that, don't you?" Vincent muttered into August's hair, pulling stray strands away from his face. August stirred, turning in Vincent's arms until he was face to face with him.

"I know," he said, looking at Vincent with a smile. "I just hate it when we argue."

They stared at each other for a while until Vincent leaned in to brush his lips against August's before pulling away. They smiled at each other again before sharing a longer and more tender kiss.

August was happy that they'd sorted things out.

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August found himself blinking in frustration as he tried to sketch in an attempt to clear his mind. His eyes felt heavy and hot. In general, it wasn't a good combination.

He wondered why Vincent didn't want to talk to him. At first, he'd thought Vincent was busy, but after he'd called him over ten times it became obvious that he was being ignored.

August had wanted to talk to him since the end of the first exhibition. It had gone so well that it had given him the confidence that the rest would follow suit, and that he'd find his stepping stone as an artist.

A loud sigh escaped August's lips as he rubbed his aching eyes. He'd been so excited to talk to Vincent again. Sure, he'd been a little nervous about having to explain himself, but he'd had confidence that Vincent would understand.

August sighed again, resting his head on the cold wooden surface of the study table. His fingers lost their grip on the pencil they'd been holding and let it tumble down to the tiled floor.

How was he going to get Vincent to forgive him? There was so much to explain... so much apologizing to do... Where was he going to start? Were they even still together?

August shut his eyes tightly at the thought. He didn't want to think about that.

His eyes popped open when his phone started to vibrate on the table. He raised his aching head before reaching for his phone. He felt a little disappointed at not seeing Vincent's name on the screen, but he also felt happy to see Lisa's.

He picked up the call, clearing up his throat before muttering a small hello.

"Hey! I'm just calling to say that the exhibition was fantastic. I knew you were good, but wow!"

A smile found its way to August's lips as Lisa showered him with praise. "I'm not that good..."

"Speak for yourself," she said from the other side, making them both chuckle. The light mood of their conversation repressed August's panicking feeling a little, but somewhere during the conversation, Lisa had clued in on the fact that he wasn't feeling alright and didn't waste time to press him on it.

"You sound down, did something happen?" she asked through the receiver. August shrugged, sighing in frustration when he remembered Lisa wasn't right in front of him to see it.

"Yes, I tried calling Vincent today..." he trailed, massaging his creased forehead. "He's ignoring me."

August heard a small hum from the other end. "Give him time, things have been crazy. If I were him I'd need time. Plus, didn't you mention that you didn't plan to contact him until all your exhibitions were over?" Lisa asked as August rested his head on the table. He put his phone at arm's length from him, still gripping loosely as he listened to Lisa talk.

"Yes, I did. It's just... The first one went so well..." he trailed, trying to explain himself. But was there any way to say that the feeling of missing Vincent had suddenly become overwhelming?

"It's one thing to make a decision, and it's another thing to follow it through. You've gotten this far, and I think it's only fair not to confuse yourself or Vincent. Give him and yourself space to think."

August nodded almost robotically to what Lisa said as he used the pad of his thumb to blur the side of the drawing he'd tried to distract himself with. Vincent's frowning face was glaring at him through the paper, and August wished he could get rid of the frown — not just on the paper, but on Vincent as a person as well.

They were too far apart, and it was easy to get ignored or ignore the other person. August couldn't just walk into the next room and make his apology known now. It was distressing not knowing what Vincent was thinking, but August couldn't do much, couldn't explain much in the situation at hand.

August wondered if Vincent just sat down and willingly thought of him... He wanted to know how angry he was at the moment. An involuntary thought of Vincent seeing someone else played itself in August's mind. August felt his jaw tighten. He disliked it, but it wasn't as if it wasn't an actual possibility, and what hurt most was the fact that he wasn't sure if he had the right to be upset if it was true.

"Hello? August, are you still listening to me?"

August blinked as he was brought out from his thoughts. He sat up, rubbing at the side of his eyes as he turned the phone he'd let go of some time during his thinking so that the speaker was visible.

"I'm here. I'm just sleepy, and I'm overthinking things..." he trailed, sighing as he looked towards his phone's touchscreen.

"Oh. It seems like you need your space, maybe I should call back later?" Lisa suggested.

"Yes," August replied honestly. "I'm sorry, but I'm sure we can talk tomorrow morning."

"It's no problem," Lisa said through the other end, hanging up soon after, and leaving August to his thoughts again.

August tried to find a comfortable resting position for his head on the desk. After figuring that the desk messed up with pencil shavings, charcoal bits and sketch pads with pricking binders couldn't be avoided, he migrated to his bed. He didn't bother changing his clothes; he just buried himself under the duvets before shutting his eyes.

Maybe Lisa was right, maybe time was the only factor he could trust now.