My Baby, My Darling.

I never liked art as a child. I found it a nuisance that teachers were always trying to tell me what to draw, how to draw it, and what to use when drawing it. If they told me to draw a house, I was always that one child that drew a picture of a cat. Always. My interest in art never really arrived until high school, when I encountered my first real art teacher, the type that actually likes to teach art and not my math teacher that is forced to teach fine arts to her students as well as basic arithmetic.

Susanna Hartleb was her name, Mrs. Hartleb to those who did not know her enough. She was the odd teacher of the school, blasting Radiohead from her classroom on the first day and rewarding her students with organic vegetation freshly picked from her garden. I didn't take her class because I loved art, I signed up for her class because it was a requirement to graduate. But, her teaching methods were one of the reasons I found art to be my passion in life. Her class offered so much freedom. All around her classroom, she posted artwork of students past as well as works of her own. All a student had to do was point to a picture and ask her a simple question of how to do it, how to create a picture with the same method, the same effect. She dedicated her time to helping me before school, lunch and after school until I mastered nearly every single technique. Not only did she help me with my techniques, but also expanded my music taste. The Velvet Underground is only one of the many bands I became accustomed to during the long hours spent in her art room. It became my second home, besides Peggy's. I spent hours upon hours in her art room, left to my own devices and received advice from her when I needed it. I don't know how she did it, but she gave every single student an individual style along the way. Almost no one in her class actually pursued art as a career. In fact, I'm one of the few that did.

There weren't many that related to my interest in art during high school. Brian, who was a close friend of mine before we started dating, never saw a reason for it. He always believed it was a nuisance that I always blew off plans with him and other people just to stay after school with Susanna. Nicole only found my art techniques useful when she needed me to draw pictures for her school projects or make posters for her many fundraising events (Nicole was on student council). The only person to really pay any interest in my art was Travis. Although he was two grades ahead of me, a senior when I was a sophomore in art class, he always found time to ask me about a piece I was working on or take the time to really look at some of the pieces I gave to Gabe after Susanna gave them back to me. He loved my portraits, specifically the ones I usually drew from people-watching at the mall or inside of my mother's Cafe. I remember him asking about this one portrait of an old man who sat in my mother's Cafe for nearly five hours reading a book and ordering coffee refills. Due to the old man's anonymity, I named him Regis because I felt like he deserved a regal name.

"He looks like my Uncle Gus," Travis commented one day as we were watching TV at Gabe's house, waiting for him to shower so that we could go out and eat.

I looked down at my sketchpad, "Does he? It might be him, he was sitting in the coffee shop all day yesterday. Was he in town?"

He changed the channel on the television, shaking his head. "Nah. My Uncle Gus lives in Russia. He's a salmon fisher."

"Interesting." I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows as I shaded the features of the Regis's nose on my sketch pad. "What was it short for?"

"What?"

"Gus? Was it short for something?"

He smiled slightly, his gaze never leaving the television. "His real name is Walter. How he came to be known as Gus makes no sense to me."

And for some reason, that's what I was thinking about as I watched the Calculus professor five tables away from me as he took a bite into his Philly Cheesesteak sandwich at the Rubenfield Campus Cafe. I was waiting for my class to start in twenty minutes, sketching lightly on my sketchpad the visage of the man in front of me, strongly resembling the man I had sketched years ago, the man I named Regis. Who knows, maybe they're distant cousins, brothers even.

"Long time no see, stranger." A familiar voice erupted behind me, causing me to jump slightly and spin around in my seat. It was Travis, the supporting character in my train of thoughts.

I furrowed my eyebrows, squinting into the afternoon sun as my eyes focused on his features, just as tired and solemn as when I last saw him. That was the thing about Travis, he always looked exhausted. "Hey, Travis. You heading out to a few classes?"

"Yeah." He nodded, licking over his lips. "My business management class is in a few minutes. I figured I'd grab a cup of coffee to stay awake."

He held up the cup in his hands as if to show me evidence.

I grinned lightly, gesturing toward the chair on the other side of my table. "We can kill time together if you want."

"Sure." He cleared his throat, making his way to the other side of the table and plopping down slowly, taking his time.

"You look tired." I blinked, flipping my sketchpad closed. I didn't know what to say, so I stated the obvious. It's certainly worked before in these cases.

He took a sip of his coffee and raised his eyebrows in agreement. "I've been picking up a ton of shifts at the record store. I actually just got promoted to Assistant Manager."

"That's great." I smiled, fiddling with the pencil in front of me. "You worked hard for that, you deserve it."

"Well, it happened a few weeks ago but I'm still adjusting to the changes. Annie didn't tell you?"

"No. I haven't really been able to talk that much with her lately," I lied.

Annie was fully aware of the conflict between Travis and Dexter, always skillfully diverging from mentioning his name when talking about her job. Things have been really weird between Travis and I ever since the incident at the bar and the night I had that big fight with Dexter. It's not that I was purposefully avoiding him, his name just didn't come up as much and I always missed him when I arrived at places he had just left. Pure coincidence. The fact that I ran into him at the community college where he was finishing up his business management degree was a rare occasion within itself and long overdue.

"That's a shame," he grinned, his eyes fixated on his coffee cup. "When was the last time we really talked? It's been a while."

"Last month." I smiled, meeting his eyes. "At the bar."

He knew exactly what I was talking about. Travis nodded, smiling a little bit as he took a sip of his coffee. "It's not like old times anymore, huh?"

"No. I guess not." I admitted, sensing his nostalgia. Travis and I weren't close anymore, we couldn't be close anymore. Not with this sudden tension brewing between us. I couldn't help but wonder why he suddenly felt the need to voice his opinions on my relationship months ago. Without knowing it, he had crossed a line. And we both knew he couldn't turn back from it. All we could do was move on.

"Listen, can I take you somewhere later? Not too long, maybe an hour or two." He finally met my eyes, courtesy emanating from his voice.

"Alone? Travis, I'm not sure if that's-"

"Not alone. Greg, Peter, and Raven are going there, too." He sent me a lazy smile as I recalled the names of his coworkers. "We'd just be driving there together."

I nodded, "Okay. When?"

"I'll meet you outside of your next class. We'll leave right after." He spoke, standing up from his chair and tossing his empty cup in a nearby trashcan. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I watched him disappear around the corner, towards the Wexler building where all the business classes were held. It was amazing how his lazy demeanor hasn't changed at all since high school. Travis had the slowest pace that I'd ever seen and still managed to make it to places on time. His posture was terrible and he constantly stumbled over things nowhere near his feet. It seems like he's the one that's always had it figured out though, always known what he wanted. He hadn't changed.

---

"How much longer?" I groaned, tossing my head against the head rest of his Honda Civic.

"Calm down, we're almost there." Travis rolled his eyes as he made a wide left turn onto a street that only looked vaguely familiar. He had said we were going to this coffee shop in Downtown New Haven.

"What's so special about this coffee shop, anyway?" I furrowed my eyebrows, turning to face him.

"You like coffee, I like coffee. What's there to complain about?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "So, you and your coworkers are driving all this way just for some coffee?"

He shrugged as he came to a full stop at a red light. "It's just an open-mic night Greg makes us go to every month or so. It's no big deal. And I figured it was your type of scene, you know? Artsy."

"Open Mic Night, huh?" I glanced quickly into his back seat in search of his guitar as the light turned green and he brought the car into motion. "You're not, by any chance, performing tonight?"

He laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Those days are behind me, Chelsea. You know that."

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes, smacking his arm. "You were good back when you and Gabe had a band. You mean to tell me that you haven't played at all since the band broke up?"

"What is up with the twenty questions?" He scoffed as he pulled into a small parking lot beside a fairly small brick building. "I'm surprised Dexter puts up with you."

"He does just fine." I smirked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Where does he think you are right now, anyway?" He asked, slamming the car door behind him and matching my pace as we approached the entrance of the building. "Doesn't he have this rule about hanging around the likes of me?"

"It's not a rule." I raised an eyebrow at him, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my coat as he pulled the door open for me. "I can spend my time with whoever I want. And he's working right now, so I'm sure he won't miss me for a few hours."

There was a low murmur among the crowd as we approached the table where Travis's coworkers were seated. Annie was apartment hunting in the next town over because it was her day off today, so my hope for an alibi to Dexter was shot out the window. I knew that if Dexter knew I was out with Travis right now, he wouldn't be happy. I decided that I wasn't going to lie to Dexter about being out with Travis, because it would only add fuel to the fire. If Dexter really trusted me, he wouldn't be worried. I wouldn't act any differently had he been here.

I don't know why I was so willing to travel with Travis all the way to New Haven, but my best bet would be on nostalgia. We were pretty good friends before Dexter and I started dating, and Travis was like an older brother to me. Even though our friendship had been rocky lately, I guess a part of me was still clinging onto the easygoing friendship we'd maintained since childhood. If anything, he was the male version of Nicole. And I wasn't willing to let go of that yet.

The coffee shop was a very intimate atmosphere, lit with lights dangling from the ceiling and widely spread couches and tables scattered throughout the room. Intricate pieces of art hung from the walls, stimulating conversation left and right as the scent of coffee filled the senses of almost everyone in the room. I was in the middle of discussing a dominating art piece with Raven, a psychology major, when Travis placed a steaming cup of heavenly substance in my hands.

"Literally, the best coffee in New Haven." He admitted as he took a sip of his own cup.

I furrowed my eyebrows, questioning him. "Better than Peggy's?"

"God forbid." He scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit down.

I rolled my eyes at his chivalrous act before choosing a seat next to Raven on an adjacent booth. "You should know by now, Trav."

"How could I forget." He smiled sheepishly as he bent down into the chair he had previously offered me.

Just then, the lights began to dim as all focus was directed toward the makeshift stage in the corner of the shop, in front of the wall entirely covered by windows. The spotlight hi lighted the figure of a Twenty-something year old woman casually sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar wrapped around her frame. Her short black hair rested above her shoulders in loose waves as she squinted her eyes into the middle of the crowd, an intense expression settling across her features before lightening slightly and smiling against the microphone skillfully adjusted onto the stand in front of her.

"Hi, I'm Elena King. And this song goes out to someone very dear to me." She wet her lips before dropping her gaze to the guitar resting above her hips as she began to strum the first few chords.

Her voice was raspy, but in a unique way. Not a chain smoker type of rasp, but an original rasp that wasn't as noticeable when she spoke. Her song was an original, one I had never expected to come out of such intense eyes. She sang of heartache, but not the typical teenage drama heartache. The song was about someone very close to her, possibly a family member or long time friend, who was separated from her by an illness. It was a very solemn song, but entirely captivating, forcing everyone in the room to fixate their eyes and ears on the one girl sitting in the corner of the room, off in her own world as her eyes remained fixated on the air above us all.

An eerie silence filled the room after she string her last chord, waiting on the response of the audience. Travis was the first to clap, which was unusual for him. He was usually one to blend in with the crowd and clap only when necessary. Sometimes, he wouldn't clap at all out of protest. My eyes traveled to his features, illuminated lightly by the dangling lights. His eyes were fixated on her, captivated even. And as she left the stage and the next performer, a forty-year-old man with a harmonica giving a rendition of some song by Mariah Carey, proceeded, Travis leapt up from his chair and followed her to the other end of the coffee shop, automatically engaging in an intimate conversation with her.

"He does this every month," Raven mumbled nonchalantly next to me, her eyes never leaving the stage. "Travis sees someone he likes, goes on one date with her, then loses interest by next month. Just like that."

"Aw, come on, babe." Peter chimed in from across the table before directing his attention to me. "The man is still trying to figure out what he likes, not everyone can be as lucky as me. I already found my soulmate."

"Oh, please." She smiled, meeting Peter's eyes. "Clearly, Travis is not looking for a soulmate. He's already found one."

"If he's already found one," I spoke from beside her, taking another sip of my coffee, "then why does he subject himself to this torture every month?"

"Because he can't have the one that he wants." Raven stated simply, never meeting my eyes. "He's trying to fill the void inside of him with puzzle pieces that just don't fit. But, he has the stubbornness of a child, never wanting to accept the reality of the situation. He keeps trying."

"Alright, psychology major, let's calm down." Peter smirked, taking a sip of his coffee cup and sending Raven a knowing look. "Psychoanalyzing people is exactly how to drive them away. Travis is our friend."

"I didn't say he wasn't." Raven admitted, throwing her hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying, it's stupid what he's doing. I like Travis just as much as you do, but the poor guy is just fooling himself."

I didn't connect the dots of what Raven had said to me until later on that night as Travis was driving me back to the campus to pick up my car. She didn't directly imply it, but I had a feeling the girl that Travis was so hung up on was me, I was the void inside of him. It would make sense, considering his sudden interest in my relationship with Dexter and Dexter's claims that Travis looks at me differently. As the realization occurred to me, I turned in my seat to face him and watched as his features stared out onto the road, illuminated every so often by street lamps overhead.

"Travis." I spoke curiously, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded in my direction, his eyes leaving the road for a split second, "What's up?"

"We've been friends for a pretty long time." I nodded, licking over my lips.

He smiled, nodding slightly. "I know."

"And you're like a big brother to me." I added, furrowing my eyebrows.

He smiled, shaking his head. "What's the point of all this?"

"It's just, you mean a lot to me and I'm glad we're...friends." I hesitated, carefully choosing my words.

Travis raised his eyebrows, nodding his head as he pulled up into the parking space next to my pickup truck. "I'm glad we're friends too, Chels."

"And I'd hate for anything to jeopardize our friendship."

"Is this about me getting that girl's number tonight? Did you know her, because I can see how that would be weird for you what with Gabe dating Nicole and all..."

"That's not, no. This isn't about the girl." I laughed lightly, shaking my head. "I'm just glad we're friends. That's all."

"Yeah," he smiled, furrowing his eyebrows as I stepped out of his car, "me, too."

I nodded, sending him an assuring look before slamming his car door shut and waving him off as he drove out of the parking lot. It was weird. There was no way Travis could act so nonchalant if he had feelings for me. Maybe I was wrong. But if his unrequited feelings weren't for me, then who were they for?