Written Wonderland

Cory's hand trailed over his knee before he answered, "I'm definitely drawn to earthy tones." He raised his hand in the air as though reaching to touch something that Juniper could not see, his fingers curious, gently testing the air. Juniper's brow furrowed in confused curiosity. But, perhaps realizing that the gesture was strange, Cory soon dropped his hand, much to Juniper's dismay. There was something... beautiful about it. It was something Juniper might ask about if the two of them were, say, in a bed together, but they were a long way from that kind of intimacy--if indeed it would ever happen.

Juniper's eyes flicked back to Cory's face to find that his jaw clenched slightly, catching Juniper off guard. Up until now, Cory had been soft, congenial, open. Cory looked over at more of the art before turning back to Juniper, his eyes roving over Juniper's clothing. Juniper unconsciously uncrossed his legs, leaning forward somewhat.

Cory's expression lightened as he asked, "What about you, Juniper? What draws you into a work of art?"

Juniper found himself surprised again. He hadn't realized he had been the one asking all--or at least, most--of the questions. Perhaps it had started to sound to Cory like more of an interrogation than an... outing. Juniper chuckled to himself and shook his head. He'd simply been eager to learn whether Cory's art would be a good fit for the lounge--or, if he were being completely honest with himself--how he might design the décor of the lounge around Cory's art, to take inspiration from it, perhaps.

To find an answer for Cory's question, Juniper looked to the sketch Cory had been puzzling over a moment earlier.

"There's... a lot to enjoy," Juniper began, still looking at the sketch. "Depictions of folds in fabric always draws my attention. And, more generally, anything that looks pleasant to touch." He looked at Cory again, remembering Cory's hand gracefully touching the air. Juniper smiled, wondering what it would feel like to roll Cory's hand around in his own, touching him just as delicately. "And, admittedly, I enjoy imagining what the artist intended and gaging how well they achieved their vision, describing the mark and if the piece fell short of it." Was that too intimidating of him to say? Juniper didn't want to sound judgmental, but he had written quite a few reviews of artwork and plays in his time, and it was true. The practice of describing a work of art to another helped him sink into it more deeply and see more of, well, everything.

Before Cory responded, Juniper's anxiety began to mount. He worried that Cory would be too intimidated to show off his art after what Juniper had said, so he quickly added, "I'm... not much of an artist myself, so I relegate myself to critique." Juniper smiled openly, then, playfully bashful.

Juniper chuckled and shook his head, and then glanced at the art again, his eyes landing on the sketch that had caught Cory's attention before. Cory joined him in admiring the work.

"There's... a lot to enjoy," Juniper said after a moment. "Depictions of folds in fabric always draws my attention. And, more generally, anything that looks pleasant to touch." Cory smiled and took a sip of his punch, perhaps feeling a bit sheepish--maybe even, in some way, caught out. All the moreso when he felt Juniper look at him; Cory met the man's gaze, but a touch crookedly. Juniper smiled, and Cory had to look away again, bashfulness overtaking him as his own smile curled absurdly wide behind his cup. Oh, he wanted to show Juniper his art--and, the thought was utterly terrifying.

"And," Juniper continued, "admittedly, I enjoy imagining what the artist intended and gaging how well they achieved their vision, describing the mark and if the piece fell short of it."

Cory's smile curled a bit more playful at that, and he began to eye sketches around the room through a lens of what he might like to ask Juniper to describe.

"I'm... not much of an artist myself," Juniper added before Cory had settled on a sketch, "so I relegate myself to critique." Cory drew his eyes back to Juniper, smiling but looking perhaps just a touch sad. He thought about protesting, but the words couldn't quite find their way to his tongue, and so he simply offered Juniper what he hoped was a reassuring smile instead, and then returned his attention to his quest for the perfect sketch to critique.

After a moment longer of indecision, Cory gestured with his glass toward a woman looking out the window from her sewing machine and a small puddle of fabric. Then, he turned his gaze back to Juniper with a playful glint in his eye.

"Tell me about that one," he bid with gentle enthusiasm. "What vision do you see?"

Despite Juniper's anxiety, it seemed the statement he meant to assuage Cory's discomfort only brought sadness to the man's eyes--Juniper would need to think more about why later. For now, Cory smiled and looked around the room as though searching for something. He found it quickly, gesturing artfully with his glass toward a sketch of a woman at a sewing machine.

Playfully, with quite a dashing smile on his face, Cory said, "Tell me about that one. What vision do you see?" Juniper smiled helplessly and laughed briefly, delighted that Cory had settled on the perfect game.

After glancing down at the table and taking another light swig of his drink, Juniper set to gazing at the image, his brows turning pensive as he brought one finger lightly over his lips.

The woman didn't look happy, that was for sure, but happiness was certainly not a requirement for good art. No, she almost looked like she was peering out at someone or something through the window, envious perhaps of someone doing something fascinating enough to distract her from her work. On the left side of the sketch, there was a shape that could be one half of a hat, possibly another person, possibly someone also looking out the window or even drawing the woman's attention there, but there was really only a gesture of a possible person, almost a phantom. The shadows at the edges of the piece highlighted the woman in the center nicely, matching both the direction of the light from the window and the content of the piece. The room itself looked cramped but not unbelievably so, but dash it all to hell, the fabrics in the sketch all looked like afterthoughts. But, then again, whatever was happening out the window was surely more interesting than the fabrics. It was an fascinating push and pull, a tug of interest and disinterest, a desire to see something outside of the frame. That much was artful, but Juniper couldn't say he liked the piece.

"From a composition standpoint," Juniper began, his glass in one hand as he continued to look at the sketch, "the piece holds the viewer's attention well. One must wonder what the woman sees and may even strain to gaze out the window themselves. But, of course, there is only imagination there. No, the central figure is one of disinterest, framed itself as interesting. Still, I think some greater attention could have been paid to the fabrics, the chairs, and the image in the frame--they all look as discarded as the sewing itself, and the artist is not the woman, not distracted... Or, if distracted, then not achieving a flow state in his art, not enjoying the process himself, which would be a travesty."

Juniper paused, wondering if he should go on. Eventually, he did. "All in all, I crave more definition of everything in the room other than the woman. It all feels... neglected. In that way, it certainly achieves its vision, but it doesn't make me want to keep looking at it." Feeling finished, he turned his gaze back to Cory, eager to see what the artist thought of his musings.

Juniper smiled and laughed, delight dancing in his eyes. Cory took another sip of his drink, perhaps a touch shy about just how delighted his own smile likely looked. He allowed his gaze to linger on Juniper as the man took another sip of his own drink and then fixed his eyes on the artwork in question. Cory adored the way that Juniper's brows set in concentration, one finger coming over his lips in thought. But, eventually, Cory drew his own eyes to the picture, contemplating it himself while he and Juniper sat in silence.

"From a composition standpoint," Juniper began, "the piece holds the viewer's attention well. One must wonder what the woman sees and may even strain to gaze out the window themselves. But, of course, there is only imagination there. No, the central figure is one of disinterest, framed itself as interesting. Still, I think some greater attention could have been paid to the fabrics, the chairs, and the image in the frame--they all look as discarded as the sewing itself, and the artist is not the woman, not distracted... Or, if distracted, then not achieving a flow state in his art, not enjoying the process himself, which would be a travesty."

Cory sipped his drink thoughtfully, intrigued by Juniper's critique. After a pause, Juniper continued.

"All in all, I crave more definition of everything in the room other than the woman. It all feels... neglected. In that way, it certainly achieves its vision, but it doesn't make me want to keep looking at it."

Cory let out a very soft giggle at the end, and drew his gaze to Juniper with a smile to acknowledge the humor in the man's conclusion. He didn't linger long, though, before looking back to the picture again, rolling over his response. After a brief moment, his smile curled with amusement, and he brought his glass to his lips again, feeling a bit coy about the thought that occurred to him.

"I feel content looking at the woman," Cory finally offered with a shrug, his tone playfully aware he was playing a mildly contrary game. His eyes flicked briefly to Juniper, his glass still lingering coyly in front of his amused smile even as he returned his gaze once again to the drawing. "I think everything else frames her astonishment at whatever is outside. I love her, in this moment, when she is huddled cozily over her craft and unconcerned about modesty or the look on her face as she allows her attention to be captured."

Cory allowed his own attention to linger on the drawing a moment longer, before offering Juniper a crooked grin, hopeful that being a little contrary would not be a blow to the man, and aiming to offer a little bit of an olive branch, just in case.

"Perhaps you are especially drawn to whatever is outside the window."

Juniper hadn't quite known what response he wanted from Cory, but the soft laughter that fell into the air between them was delightful, the accompanying smile the perfect complement. Soon, however, Cory looked himself at the sketch in question, his face becoming more mischievous as he partially hid behind his drink.

"I feel content looking at the woman," Cory said wistfully with a shrug. His eyes darted to Juniper as though gaging his reaction. The artist's smile remain amused. "I think everything else frames her astonishment at whatever is outside. I love her, in this moment, when she is huddled cozily over her craft and unconcerned about modesty or the look on her face as she allows her attention to be captured."

Juniper looked again at the sketch with a slight frown and furrowed brows, trying to see what Cory saw, and all the while, a heaviness settled into his stomach. In all honesty, Juniper hadn't registered the woman's immodesty, but he could see it now. And the disapproving look Juniper first assumed could be shocked surprise instead, true. It certainly was more optimistic to look at the sketch that way. And maybe the lack of detail elsewhere did emphasize that point.

But why this feeling in his stomach?

"Perhaps you are especially drawn to whatever is outside the window," Cory offered. Juniper looked from the sketch to Cory and back again with the same scrutiny--he couldn't help it. He tried not to read too much into what Cory had said about the woman--that he lovedher. Juniper tried not to let it erode the confidence he felt earlier when Cory indicated he also hadn't been interested in courting Colleen. Maybe that was just because he wasn't interested in Colleen specifically? Had Juniper gotten all the signals wrong? Perhaps Cory thought this was just a business meeting, just a way to see if Cory was really the artist he said he was.

Juniper's frown deepened, and he looked down into his glass, hoping to find a way to recover.

But, suddenly, his eyebrows lifted, though he couldn't yet meet Cory's eyes. "I suppose you're right," he said, a bit breathily. "My curiosity frequently gets the better of me."

Ultimately, Juniper thought it wasn't a problem that Cory had understood the sketch differently than Juniper, and honestly, it indicated a complexity to the artwork that was admirable in its own right--to be able to hold such conflicting perspectives.

He was tempted to ask Cory what he thought lay out the window, but that would just be drawing attention back to his own perspective. Best to meet in the middle somehow, he thought.

Juniper gazed at the other sketches around them, again landing on the sketch of two men shirtless on a boat, their muscled forms facing away from the viewer as they approached land. He was unable to keep the red from his cheeks as he raised his gaze to Cory's and quietly said, "Your turn to go first, then. How would you describe this one?"

Cory grew worried as Juniper looked between him and the painting with some scrutiny. Impulses arose to reassure Juniper somehow--that Cory didn't think that Juniper's take on the art was incorrect or less interesting than his own. In fact, Cory had enjoyed the wit in Juniper's take quite a lot. He took another drink to stop himself--he thought probably, Juniper would appreciate the time to formulate his own reply before Cory went and added more of his own--and turned the lightly-flavored refreshment over in his mouth, trying not to let his expression show the pit that began to form in his stomach when Juniper cast his gaze down to his drink with a frown.

But then, Juniper's eyebrows rose, and Cory grabbed on to hope. "I suppose you're right," Juniper said, a bit breathily. "My curiosity frequently gets the better of me."

Cory smiled at that, and finally swallowed the sip he'd been holding onto, preparing to assure Juniper that curiosity was a delightful quality, but before he found the words, Juniper's gaze was moving to other sketches throughout the room, and Cory followed his lead, curious about where the man's mind was traveling.

Juniper's gaze--and subsequently Cory's--settled on a drawing of two figures in a boat, sailing toward a dark cloud. Cory's eyes had clocked the work on an earlier perusal of the room, but he only just now consciously took stock of it. Truth told, it felt... like an image Cory oughtn't look at so closely, and he realized why quickly. About the same time as he felt Juniper's gaze land on him again. Cory swallowed, the fingers of his free hand drumming silently on his knee to keep from loosening his tie.

"Your turn to go first, then," Juniper said. "How would you describe this one?"

Cory felt a terrifying thrill in his stomach, which he tried valiantly to cover over with a sly grin tossed briefly Juniper's direction. He attempted to collect a more thoughtful gaze as he returned his eyes to the drawing, contemplating his reply. Admittedly, his mind couldn't help turning over the breif exchange he and Juniper had shared about Colleen and Amelia as his eyes drank in the bared muscular shoulders that steered the drawing's boat.

"Well, there's a lot of anticipation," Cory said, trying to sound level-headed about it. "And uncertainty. It's not clear what lies ahead, only that there is something large and dark that the travelers look directly toward. I'm struck that the boat's sailor looks engaged and steady, though--the passenger to the side looks a little crumpled and scared, but our navigator by contrast looks confident, and I feel as though he knows the way through. So, there is excitement in that, and satisfaction in how the sailor counterbalances the sail and rudder with ease."

In the end, Cory was quite proud of speaking earnestly without gawking over bared muscle--though he supposed, his last statement stopped just short of precisely that. He glanced to Juniper with a hopeful quirk of his eyebrow as he took another sip of his drink.

Cory looked at Juniper with a glint in his eye, and Juniper's eyebrows rose immediately, attempting to feign ignorance.

But, soon, Cory decided to take Juniper seriously, and he turned a studied gaze to the sketch. In the meantime, Juniper couldn't help watching Cory's jaw and his throat, looking for any indication that Cory might... just might be interested in him.

And suddenly, it all felt like an excuse. An excuse to study this beautiful man. To enjoy the sensation of his company, regardless of what any possible future could hold. Juniper felt a rush of hope in his chest that he couldn't explain. Was it possible to take nothing further with Cory and still... profoundly enjoy every moment without needing to wonder? It seemed utterly infeasible. And yet... as Juniper continued to watch Cory's jawline, studying him the way the artist was studying the sketch, Juniper was convinced he could.

Who is this man who would lead me to realize such a thing? Juniper asked himself, but then he thought. No, I've realized it myself. Perhaps he was maturing. Ah, how his parents would celebrate such a thing, he then thought bitterly.

But Cory prevented Juniper from fully opening that closet.

"Well, there's a lot of anticipation," Cory said, drawing Juniper's attention immediately back to the sketch. "And uncertainty. It's not clear what lies ahead, only that there is something large and dark that the travelers look directly toward. I'm struck that the boat's sailor looks engaged and steady, though--the passenger to the side looks a little crumpled and scared, but our navigator by contrast looks confident, and I feel as though he knows the way through. So, there is excitement in that, and satisfaction in how the sailor counterbalances the sail and rudder with ease."

Juniper mulled what Cory had said in his mind, comparing it to the half-built version in his own mind.

Cory sipped his drink, waiting patiently. Juniper smiled down at his arms for a moment to prevent from returning immediately to Cory's jaw.

He calmed his smile, though, and also took the sketch seriously. "The man on the right looks almost as though he's scheming, the way his arm is bent. He's looking for something, examining the area ahead for the right angle. Strong but, with an earned strength--his arms are more muscular than the other man's all told, and more shadowed," Juniper said, gesturing toward the lines in the sketch he meant. "Tirelessly earned. The man on the left is casually strong--been that way all his life, probably. It's caused in him a gentle hubris. He's unafraid, given his upright posture. They don't plan on stopping here, else the sail would be down. It seems to me like scouting."

Juniper felt pleased for noticing and pointing out those details, though Juniper had never the opportunity to sail himself and didn't have nearly the training to look like either of those two men, despite being lean.

"But, that's just the foreground, really. Has Hopper achieved what he set out to do? Has he done it well?" Juniper was drawing it out, enjoying talking. He threw a theatrical tilt of his head toward Cory rhetorically. He then took another wistful look at the sketch, his eyes full of awe. "The lines of the boat are beautiful. Exquisite. And the way the subtle shadows on the sail separate it from the sky... Then, the light on shapes that could be clouds or trees. It doesn't matter where they are going because they are going together into something deeply full of contrast, mystery, and excitement. It's a masterpiece, in my humble opinion. Dare I say, my favorite that I've seen to this point."

Juniper looked up at Cory with the smallest of smiles, attempting to play the whole matter straight. And, in fact, Juniper wasn't lying. This was the most artful piece, objectively speaking, as far as he was concerned. But, of course, it wasn't the whole story of why he liked it.

Juniper smiled down to his arms, and Cory wondered with a flutter in his chest whether Juniper might also play contrary. It would only be fair, really. He looked serious as he returned his gaze to the sketch, though.

"The man on the right looks almost as though he's scheming, the way his arm is bent," he stated, and Cory returned his own gaze to the sketch to consider this.

"He's looking for something," Juniper continued, "examining the area ahead for the right angle. Strong but, with an earned strength--his arms are more muscular than the other man's all told, and more shadowed. Tirelessly earned."

Cory's cheeks flashed warm when Juniper acknowledged the musculature, and especially so when Cory caught Juniper gesturing toward the lines in question out of the corner of his eye, unabashed by the subject matter. Perhaps it wasn't quite so... stirring, for him? Or, perhaps Juniper just had more confidence about what was acceptable to acknowledge and discuss in a fancy gallery.

"The man on the left is casually strong--been that way all his life, probably. It's caused in him a gentle hubris." At that, Cory's smile slipped into a gentle, knowing nostalgia--he couldn't help it.

"He's unafraid, given his upright posture. They don't plan on stopping here, else the sail would be down. It seems to me like scouting. But, that's just the foreground, really. Has Hopper achieved what he set out to do? Has he done it well?"

Cory looked to Juniper, who tilted his head a bit theatrically toward him. The artist's smile crooked in amusement, and his eyes lingered as Juniper returned his gaze to the sketch, his expression full of awe and beautiful. Cory wanted to memorize it, to paint it.

"The lines of the boat are beautiful. Exquisite. And the way the subtle shadows on the sail separate it from the sky... Then, the light on shapes that could be clouds or trees. It doesn't matter where they are going because they are going together into something deeply full of contrast, mystery, and excitement. It's a masterpiece, in my humble opinion. Dare I say, my favorite that I've seen to this point."

Juniper returned his gaze to Cory again, and Cory felt a bit caught out that he'd not been looking at the sketch. His eyes darted toward the artwork on reflex, but it felt a bit late for that, and he drew them back with a sheepish, hopeful smile.

"It is absolutely a powerful piece." Cory agreed warmly, trying to settle the butterflies in his stomach without any fuss. "And your words write a magnifiscent story with it."

"It is absolutely a powerful piece." Cory agreed, "and your words write a magnificent story with it." Juniper nodded gently and took another sip of his drink. There wasn't much left, so he was careful to only drink half of what was there--he needed to savor these things. Or, perhaps, should he and Cory move on? They could certainly keep playing their little game, but there was other art to see.

Juniper sighed airily, an amused smile curling at the edge of his lips as he looked at Cory. Perhaps Juniper would never find out what the man's proclivities were. What did Juniper want to do with the man regardless?

Unprompted images of Cory hanging a heavy charcoal canvas on the wall of the new lounge while Juniper watched came suddenly to mind, veering from there to the breeziness with which Juniper could invite Cory to watch his own artwork keep others company. And then, Cory would understand Juniper's proclivities, if nothing else.

Juniper ached for Cory to ask him why he invited him here. Because the way you said my name that first night was beautiful, because I imagined you tasting me the way you tasted that first bite of strawberry, Juniper imagined saying. And suddenly, he had the urge to tell Cory yet more secrets about himself, offer yet more of his own vulnerability...

But... no. Juniper was here, now, and that was enough. He was in a gallery with an artist with a knack for playful and perceptive perspectives. That was enough.

"Shall we continue on our own journey, then?" Juniper asked, nodding in the direction of the rooms they hadn't yet explored.