hapter Five

"You know your life is sad when you start watching German soap operas on YouTube," Luke commented at lunch, stabbing at her salad. "I should have studied for my Chem test, but instead…"

"German soap operas," Neil finished, laughing. He leaned against her and nuzzled her temple. She smacked him away, giggling. "You are the worst student ever."

"Not really." She leaned towards Dylan and pressed a light hand to the fading bruise around his eye. "Are you feeling better?"

"It doesn't hurt as much." He let her prod at his face for a minute before he swatted her away. "Stop that!"

"Sorry." She crossed her arms and sighed. "Jesus Christ, I hate this school."

Neil and Martin exchanged glances, making 'Oh shit' faces at each other.

"What?" Dylan asked them, frowning.

They exchanged looks again. "The Water Polo team better watch the fuck out," Martin said dryly.

When Luke came into art that day, she had bloody knuckles and bloody nose. There was a scratch across her cheek that bled sluggishly in tiny rivulets down her face. When Dylan pointed that out, she grabbed a tissue and blotted it sloppily.

"What did you do?" asked Marcia in awe, coming up to them and leaning against one of the art tables. She reached out to touch the scratch and jerked her hand back at the last second. "Christ."

"Beat the shit out of some jocks," Luke said airily and then put her ipod headphones in to ignore them.

Dylan blinked. "Oh my god," he said slowly. "She actually did it."

Aaron came in and stared at Luke. "What the hell," he said finally. She yanked out her headphones and looked at him for a long moment before the words registered.

"Your boys beat up Dylan," she said calmly.

"The fuck," he said.

"Okay!" the teacher shouted. "Everyone, you've got to be working on your pieces for the art exhibit this weekend! Don't forget!"

"Fuck," Luke said, and she jammed the headphones back in.

"A girl defended my honor today," Dylan announced when he got home.

Nathan raised his eyebrows from the table and downed half a beer. "Wow, dude. Your life is really fucked up."

"I know," Dylan said. He sat down across from him and rested his head in his hands. "God. Did I mention that the guys that beat me up are friends with the guy I am having sexy dreams about?"

"Well, that's not an awkward thing to hear from your little brother," Nathan remarked dryly. "Dylan, I am all for your openness and stuff, but seriously. TMI still exists for you. I will return the favor."

"Awesome," Dylan said, voice muffled by his hands. "I really don't care to know about your sexual exploits." He blinked up at him. "Or lack thereof."

"Fuck you," Nathan said very firmly and he chugged the rest of his beer.

The next day, Luke wasn't at school. When he asked Neil about it, he said that Luke usually didn't come to school the day after a fight so that she could avoid trouble. Dylan decided to stick close to others for the rest of the day. (He texted Nathan during fourth period and asked him to give him a ride. Dylan was so not looking forward to getting beat up again.)

"What the fuck," Aaron said again in art. He stared at Dylan. "What the fuck."

"What?" Dylan demanded.

"Why did they beat you up?" he asked.

Dylan blinked and then said, "Ask them yourself." He turned back to his canvas and lifted his brush, but Aaron curled a hand around his wrist. Dylan froze, the heat of Aaron's fingers sinking into his skin and sending a blush through his body. "Let go of me."

"What did they say?" Aaron's eyes were huge up close and Dylan could feel Aaron's breath gusting along his cheek. "Dylan."

"It's not important," Dylan whispered, flicking his eyes up. They stared at each other for a long minute, and then Aaron let go of his wrist.

"Sorry," Aaron whispered, and he backed away.

The art show opened at seven and Dylan was there with Nathan, their dad still at work. They were waiting outside the entrance when he heard a shout and he turned to see two very familiar faces coming towards him.

"Frank? Cassie?" he said, and then he was buried in a tangle of limbs. "Fuck!"

"Your brother told us we had to come out," Cassie said when she pulled away, "as your grand art debut was today. Frequent flier miles are the best."

"Damn straight," Frank agreed, grabbing Cassie's hand and squeezing. "Best friends for life, asshole. You aren't getting rid of us."

"Shit," Dylan said dryly. He noticed that Nathan had run away, the coward. "Ready to face the crowd?"

"Yep." Frank grabbed Dylan's hand and tugged them inside. Dylan rolled his eyes at Cassie, who was grinning indulgently. "Come, show me the works of art you have crafted, Michelangelo."

"Michelangelo was a sculptor," Dylan corrected, but let Frank drag him inside anyway.

Luke showed up about half an hour in and said hi before demanding introduction. "I'm Luke," she announced. "Who are you?"

"Hey," Dylan said. "These are my bestest friends from New York, Frank and Cassie."

"Hi," Cassie said with a wave.

"Cool," Luke said. "Did you show them the picture you did of Aaron?"

Cassie blinked and poked Dylan's shoulder. "Who's Aaron?"

"Yeah!" Frank chimed in. "Who's Aaron?"

"Oh my god," Dylan said to Luke, "I fucking hate you."

To Dylan's horror, Aaron was standing in front of the painting when they found it. When he heard them, he turned and smiled at Dylan, the smile a little fake. "Hey." Then he frowned at the others. "Hi?"

"These are Frank and Cassie," Dylan said resignedly. "Guys, this is Aaron." He gestured vaguely at the painting behind him. "And that's Aaron too."

Cassie made an impressed noise and patted Dylan on the back. "Goddamn. You're fucking good."

"That's the one I did of Dylan," Aaron said, pointing a little down the way. Cassie grabbed Frank's hand and tugged him away to go look, and Luke said something about meeting Neil, which left Aaron and Dylan staring awkwardly at each other.

"So," Dylan muttered.

"I talked to the guys on the team," Aaron said suddenly. "I'm sorry about them. I think they'll back off now."

"Thanks."

They looked at the canvas together for a few minutes, and then Aaron said, "Hey, you want to look at my painting?"

"Yeah, okay."

When Dylan saw the painting, all the breath went out of him.

It was beautiful.

Every bit of his face, every feature was lovingly and accurately painted, and the light in the painting made him seem to glow. He stared at the painting for a long time, and then he looked at Aaron, who was steadfastly avoiding looking at him.

"Aaron," he said softly. Aaron looked up, eyes wide, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "Aaron, it's really good."

"Thanks," Aaron whispered, and then Dylan couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed Aaron's wrist and tugged him into a secluded corner of the gallery, shoved him against a wall, and kissed him.

Aaron melted against him, fingers sliding under the thin material of Dylan's shirt, hands warm and gentle. Dylan pressed his thumbs lightly under Aaron's cheekbones, feeling the muscles in Aaron's jaw move as his mouth opened to Dylan's, as Aaron nipped at Dylan's lower lip. He sighed into the kiss and pulled back to rest his forehead against Aaron's.

"I've got to go find Frank and Cassie," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I want to talk to you later."

"Yeah, okay," Aaron said. He drew in a shuddering breath and smiled slowly. "We can do that."

"I like him," Cassie announced as they left the gallery. "He seems like he'd be good for you, Dylan."

"I hope so," Dylan said.

A/N: GERMAN FUCKING SOAP OPERAS. GODDAMN YOU ALEX, FOR GETTING ME HOOKED.

By the way, I apologize for the brevity of this chapter. Hopefully once I get some more time on my hands this will be remedied.