Aurora Borealis

Alex didn't want to get out of bed the next morning. He had his covers pulled completely over him, so that his head was hiding underneath. He couldn't bear to acknowledge any of the shame or embarrassment that he felt, and if he got out of bed, he knew he'd be forced to. It was safer in his comforting shelter of blankets and sheets, though even his covers felt gross and filthy. But again, he refused to even acknowledge that, for fear that it would confirm all of the previous nights activities. He felt absolutely mortified and ashamed of himself. He couldn't believe that he had let himself act so shameful and heedless, and he never wanted to face himself or Jack again. And it wasn't only his mental state that was failing him that morning. He was now facing the physical consequences of his actions from the night prior. His head pounded mercilessly, his muscles were completely stiff, and his whole body ached. He felt like his bones had locked themselves in place like hard rock, and when he tried to make any movement at all, his pain only worsened.

Jack felt fine, safe for a small headache and a bit of nausea. Surprisingly, he had been able to control himself and didn't drink into oblivion. He left Alex's apartment later that night, feeling quite satisfied with himself. Before he exited the apartment, he wrote on a notepad his number, along with a little message for the younger man. Jack couldn't deny that he was curious about Alex. He couldn't stop thinking about that day his dog attacked Zack, and how he had apologized profusely and seemed so nervous and frantic. He appeared so friendly then. But to Jack, he acted like he was repulsed by him. When the older man entered a room, Alex would act like he'd rather be anywhere than there. It seems that the brunet just couldn't tolerate Jack's presence at all without alcohol. In fact, if there was alcohol involved, clearly it was a much different story.

Society as a whole can perhaps agree that alcohol makes a person behave unnaturally. Drunkards do things they wouldn't normally do sober — they act so out of character. However, the wanderer thought differently. He thought that a drunk man was an honest man. Alcohol didn't poison the brain; it liberated it. Liberated it from all of society's rules and laws that were suppressing the person's true nature all along. And so, using that logic and his own aphorisms, Jack came to the conclusion that Alex does like him. His mind, under the intoxicating influence of alcohol, had freed him from any restraints and all of his apprehensiveness. It had freed him to a blurry night of mindless sex, meaningless pillow talk, and sweet, sweet liberation. Yes, Jack concluded. That was it. Alex was suppressing his feelings and, in a moment of weakness, had indulged.

Suddenly, Jack couldn't wait for next Saturday. He knew he would get to see Alex again, and that thought excited him. He couldn't explain why he was so interested by the young artist, but he did know he wanted to discover everything there was to know about about him. He wanted to uncover all of his secrets. He wanted to unveil his past. He wanted to know all of his fears, all of his pet peeves, and all of the things that made him happy. He wanted to be exposed to what made Alex the way he was. He wanted to be savvy about the younger man. Jack always got what he wanted.

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Sooner than expected, Saturday came. Alex was overly excited about it all. It had been so long since he'd showcased any of his artwork, and he was eager to start up again. Alex was there promptly at 9:30, making sure that every painting was hanged the way it was supposed to be, and taking a few moments to step back and admire his own work. In a sense, he was glad he took the year off; it gave him the opportunity to focus solely on improving his art, rather than being stressed about commissions and costumers.

The doors opened to the public at around 10 in the morning. People came and went, observing Alex's soapstone sculptures, as well as his hanged paintings. The carvings sold quickly, which was quite typical when it came to selling art. Sculptures typically sold more than paintings, but Alex didn't care much for that. As long as he could make a living doing what he loved, he would be happy. 2 hours had passed, and the artist spent most of it worrying about Jack in the back of his mind. He hadn't seen him, thankfully, since the night that they hooked up. And when he found that the man left his number on a sticky note, he folded it in his palm and threw it in the trash bin next to his bed. He was praying on the idea that the older man had forgotten about the show, as Alex had initially suspected he would. But his luck was cut short when he saw said man walk in, his friend Zack by his side. The brunet cursed internally, and turned to hide amongst a small crowd of people.

It wasn't much use, since Jack had already been able to spot him. He didn't walk up to Alex immediately, though. Instead, he and Zack took their time observing all of the artwork. Both men were ready to admit that the quality was of high caliber, and Zack had been eyeing a soapstone carving of a polar bear since the moment they entered the room. But Jack was too preoccupied to focus too much on the art. The real masterpiece was the artist himself, and Jack made sure he knew where Alex was at all times. Whenever Alex ducked behind a wall, or hid within a group or near a group of people, Jack's eyes followed him everywhere. The brunet took notice of this, and it only made him try to become invisible even more. He knew that his efforts were futile, but he couldn't help himself. Naturally, he was shy, and he hated the sort of attention the older man gave him.

After a half hour of cat and mouse, Jack finally caught his moment. When the younger's back was turned, the dark-haired man walked up behind him, and rested his hand on his shoulder. Startled, Alex jumped and whipped around to confront the person, but silenced himself when he realized who it was. For a moment, he didn't know how to feel. But after a few seconds, he realized that he was actually quite irritated with how brash and confrontational Jack was. When he glared at the older man, Jack only smiled in return. The gesture only seemed to make the matter worse in the artist's eyes.

"Hey, didn't mean to startle you." Jack attempted to sound more pleasant, rather than his usual arrogant self. He could tell that he was beginning to get on Alex's nerves, and he didn't come all the way to Nunavut just to give himself a bad reputation with the locals.

"Yeah, right." Alex rolled his eyes, and freed his shoulder from the man's light grasp. "I didn't actually think you'd come." He mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

"Well, here I am." The older man expressed, smiling stupidly. Alex couldn't help but take notice of how one of Jack's eyes squints when he grins.

"Yeah, here you are..." Alex's heart beat rapidly in his chest, due to his anxiety and shyness. He didn't feel up for a fight that day, for fear that he would only end up being patronized at his own art sale. And so, instead, he settled for being awkward, neurotic, and a bit crude.

"Your artwork is really good, by the way. I assume you've been doing this for a while." Jack said, observing the artwork hung on the wall beside them.

"I actually just started up again after a year."  The younger explained.

Eventually, after the two men continued to talk for a bit, Alex's nerves somehow quieted. He even started to enjoy the conversation at one point, with Jack succeeding in making him laugh. It took some time, of course, and several awkward pauses where neither knew how to continue the conversation. But he did, in due time, start to unbend. This was a relief to Jack. Zack ended up buying the soapstone carving, which Alex was incredibly grateful for. All in all, it seemed to be a surprisingly good evening. The brunet couldn't decipher why Jack suddenly didn't seem as annoying or arrogant as he usually was. Especially considering how he did find him annoying not even an hour ago. But he pushed those concerns away, and decided he didn't care. He was just glad the older man wasn't being so suggestive and vulgar, and that Zack didn't seem as angry as he did the last time he met him. Eventually, when Zack seemed antsy to leave, the two friends made their way to leave through the door. Before Jack passed through the threshold, he turned to the brunet again.

"You should come out to dinner with me tonight." He invited, smiling.

Alex stammered, slightly taken aback. He wasn't sure how to respond, or wether he wanted to or not. "Uhm... I-I don't kn-"

"Great, so I'll see you at 7:30 then?"

"Uh-"

"Do you know any good restaurants around here?"

Alex paused, looking at Jack strangely. Was this guy fucking serious? "I usually just go to Tim Horton's..." He answered, feeling awkward.

"Great, I'll see you then and there, Alex."

"Well, I don't really know if I wa-"

"You have my number right?"

The artist's heart sank to his stomach. Shit, he thought. He decided that the best route was to play dumb, and he hoped that Jack would be vacuous enough to fall for it. "Oh, no. Did you give it to me?"

"I left you a note just last week."

"It probably just fell or something." Alex lied. "I'll find it..."

"Ok. I'll see you tonight."

With that, Jack and Zack were passed the threshold and into the cold arctic air, leaving Alex behind in the warmth of the gallery.