Avery & Matt shorts - 4. Prompt #423--What is it?

Prompt #423—List of Words: bird bath, loaf of bread, Chinese checkers, a daffodil, and a painting.

What is that?

Matt suppressed a smirk at the drawn brows and tilted head of his boyfriend as he stared at the artwork. It was a mixed media scratched chromogenic print with photospotting and acrylic ink. At least this artwork had an identifiable background with the ocean, mountains, and a tiny boat. It was the explosion of blotched and dripping colors over the nearly invisible ship that tipped it into the more modern realm of artwork.

"So what do you think?" Matt asked as Avery contemplated the mass of colors marring what he would have considered a perfectly good painting.

"I really don't get it," Avery finally admitted.

It wasn't the first time Avery had said that since they arrived at the Contemporary Art Museum. Matt enjoyed the more abstract artworks over realistic ones. Searching the works for their deeper meaning was part of the fun for him. But Avery obviously didn't get that. He had never been to a museum, since his bastard of a father had never taken him anywhere. So Matt was determined to share as much with the man as possible. Today that was modern art.

But apparently they differed greatly on what they considered to be art.

"It looks like a Chinese checker board smashed into the middle of the painting." Avery tilted his head the other way, obviously thinking it might make it look different. By the squint in his eyes, it obviously didn't.

"It's a party boat," Matt explained. "The explosions of colors are fireworks. See? The gray around the colors is the smoke."

Avery pursed his thin lips, staring again. "Then why does it look like paint is dripping from the fireworks?"

"That's for you to think about," Matt said. "That's what makes modern and abstract art so interesting. It makes you think."

Avery shrugged. "Guess that's the problem. I just want to look at a painting of a field of daffodils and it actually look like daffodils, not a loaf of bread."

"That painting did not look like bread," Matt chuckled.

"Well, it certainly didn't look like daffodils either like it was titled," Avery shot back.

"Okay, okay, I'll give you that one," Matt conceded. Sometimes even for him the titles didn't seem to make sense. And that one was a little too abstract for even him.

"Come on." Matt slipped his arm around Avery's slender shoulders, guiding him around one of the many free-standing walls in the middle of the exhibition room.

He froze abruptly as his eyes caught sight of slashes of reds, maroons, crimsons, and rusts on the canvas a few paintings away. His heart thumped in his chest as his mind flooded with images of Avery's back the moment he'd come down those basement steps over a year ago. His stomach suddenly roiled as he gripped Avery's narrow shoulders tighter. Avery's soft skin was forever marred by the vicious beatings he'd received from his father for years. Avery's back could be a replica of the abstract work hanging on the wall.

Fortunately, when he looked at Avery, his bright blue eyes were focused on the painting next to them, oblivious to the bitter painting. Again, Avery was frowning.

Matt shifted to block Avery's view of the angry painting.

"It looks like a scribble," Avery announced. "With colored balls."

Matt forced a smile as he turned Avery toward the door leading to the next exhibit room. "I think maybe you've had enough of the paintings and drawings."

"Oh wait!" Avery exclaimed as he glanced back. "It's spaghetti and meatballs!"

Matt laughed as an older woman nearby smiled at Avery's assessment of acrylic painting. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what it is. Let's try the sculpture room over here."

Avery wrinkled his nose, and Matt had the sudden urge to kiss the tip. "Is there going to be a bird bath that's shaped like a toilet or something in there?"

Matt couldn't help the bark of laughter. He was so lucky to have Avery with him. The image of that angry painting brought back the sobering realization of how close he'd come to losing him. Matt wrapped a hand through the silky ebony locks at the nape of Avery's neck, drawing him in closer. A quick kiss and the press of Avery's body against his helped to wash away the horrible images that had rushed through his mind at the sight of the fiery painting.

Avery looked at him askance at the sudden display of affection. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Matt breathed. "Yeah. I am now."