Bubblegum Cat at the Cinema

Brian walked into the dimly lit building where an art exhibition was being held, or, as he would strongly argue, allowed himself to be dragged inside by Scarlett. But he got it. She was obsessed with the artist in question. Brian had seen obsession in all it’s scary glory and although he’d deny it he’d felt it a few times, too. He was guessing that was how she'd talked him into this whole thing. He smiled as she turned around and silently screamed at him, the excitement clear in her face. Brian couldn’t wait for her to turn around again so he could stop fooling himself and drop the corners of his lips. This was going to be the lamest thing ever.

‘The things I do to get laid,’ he thought.

Brian found himself in the quietest corner of the upstairs room staring at the same thing for far too long, considering he didn’t quite understand it.

“Bubblegum cat at the cinema…” he muttered to himself quietly, reading the name of the painting a few more times in his head before bringing his eyes back up to a pink blob that vaguely resembled a cat on a canvas. He got it; it was pink, and bubblegum was sometimes pink, and the dark background showed it was perhaps sitting in a cinema. But, why was he forced to stare at it on a Saturday night when he could have been somewhere much more interesting?

‘This is utter crap. Someone actually likes this shi–’

“Hey, how’s it going?” Brian cringed internally as he recognised the man towering over him in bright red boots to be the artist of this… art.

“I’m here with a friend.” Brian’s tone made it blatantly obvious that this wasn’t his first choice of venues for the night.

“Oh…” He knew he’d been kind of rude, but he had absolutely no interest in discussing what he couldn’t see in the various blurs and swipes that covered the many canvases on the walls. He wanted to tell this man he was wasting his time. But then he looked around at those that were gathered around the canvases, pointing and discussing, reading the descriptions and giggling. Maybe it was him that was missing the point. He wasn’t sure. He looked up to the artist’s face and took note of the uneasiness that was spreading across his features as he stood there unsure of what else to say, being far too polite to simply walk away. Brian hated that in people. His eyes caught sight of Scarlett as she came up to where he stood, and introduced herself to the artist.

“Noel, I’m such a fan!”

Brian remembers that night better than most Saturday nights that year. He found himself with a copy of NME on the tour bus, receiving glares from every angle as it was assumed he was reading a piece about Placebo written by a joker that liked to pretend they were a journalist. But that wasn’t it. His fingers grazed the glossy photo printed beside the text, and his eyes welled with tears as he read the caption:

“‘Noel and his girlfriend, Scarlett, spotted sharing an intimate moment at his art book launch last week.’

“What’s wrong with you?” Stef asked, dropping his glare and now worrying they’d said something stupid, like mentioned Brian had a pimple on stage or that he was looking fat or old or bored or something else they’d pulled straight from their arse. Brian attempted to clear his throat as he fought past the sobs that were erupting from his mouth. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and found that the strangest words were pulling at his heart.

“B-bubblegum cat at the cinema.”

Stef gave Brian a long hard stare before pulling the magazine from his shaking hands, leaving Brian to roll over on the couch and form a tight ball of frustrated heartache. He still didn’t get the hype.