ART.

“What in the world.” Rosetta knelt down in the garden, eyeing a particular plant that truly had no business being there. “These are..poisonous. Why are they here?” She questioned to herself, brows furrowed as she reached out to touch one of the leaves with a single gloved hand. She could hear someone walking in the grass behind her, glancing over her shoulder.

Art grinned as he approached whoever was knelt down admiring the plants, peeking over her shoulder and appreciating the bright leaves that she was stroking. “You know what kind of plant that is?” he asked, loudly enough to catch her attention. “’Cause it’s pretty rad, I would totally get one for the house if I could trust my bros to take care of anything I left alone.”

Boo made sure to sit next to him, hugging her knees to her chest the moment she was able to. “I’m peachy keen, moonbeam.” She wrinkled her nose. “Dreaming every day, painting on some of them, wishing the muse would come to me….fighting my demons.” She sighed, resting her head on her knee. “The days go on and I move either just as fast, ten times slower, or a thousand times quicker.” She smiled a little bit at him. “You’re so kind and caring. Always down for sharing….the brightest color, warm and tender.”

Art nodded through the tale Boo told, sharing his understanding while he listened, because sometimes she needed distractions but sometimes she just needed to be heard, and Art was so receptive to her energy, always wanted to show her that he was open to and for her, that she alone held his time when they were together. “Today’s just moseying on by for me,” he pointed out with an inquisitive last syllable. “Is it a quick one, or a slow one for you? Maybe if we’re not on the same ride we can meet in the middle.” He didn’t know what was warm and tender all at the same time, so he asked, “Like a yellow? Or an orange? They always seemed a little in your face about themselves.”

Huey smiled a bit. He couldn’t help it. He missed Art. Sure, he’d been avoiding him a bit, and he felt horrible about that. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds awesome.” Huey said, locking his bedroom door. Sure, he was an adult, sure it wasn’t that late and he could probably just ask to go out, but this seemed easier. “I miss you too,” he said, smiling again, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear. He noticed Skipper looking at him, and he gave her a soft wave as he ducked out the window like he’d done so many times before. It was easy to drop out that way, dangling down and dropping the few extra inches onto the top of the window below and then sort of praying not to break anything as he dropped off of that. “Hold on one sec,” he said, tucking his phone in his pocket to climb down. It wasn’t until he was on the sidewalk and walking away from the house that he went back to talking directly into the phone. “Sorry, just, uh, had to ask to go out. Um, anyway, where are you near, I’ll walk to you.” He started looking around for Art’s van.

By the time Huey was done with whatever he was doing, Art was stifling his laughter into his sleeve, wondering just how much trouble Huey was getting himself into. He took the time to hit his vape pen regardless, staring at the street signs as he tried to figure out how far out he was. He hadn’t been to Huey’s place many times, but he was sure it couldn’t be that hard to find once he was in the area. “It’s all good,” he promised once Huey was back on the line or in commission, whatever he’d done to escape, and took a moment to squint up at the street signs donning the intersection before reading them off to Huey, leaning back and looking around himself. “There’s a house with a mannequin as a mailbox, and another one with Christmas lights up still. I don’t think I’m far though. If I remember anything, which...” he trailed off. It wasn’t like he’d picked him up more than a handful of times. “It’s a start.”

“All I want in this God damn world is a pizza. You know what is 100% not on my diet plan? A pizza. A pizza might kill me. And yet, Domino’s is dialed up on my phone.”

“Like actually kill you?” Art squinted, trying to figure out why pizza specifically would kill her, but he’d heard stranger things in his lifetime. Much, much stranger. “‘Cause I’ll go halfsies on a pizza if you wanna, but not if it means I’m complicit in death by pizza.”

Boo followed him inside, feeling the warmth of the van, and Art, the moment the door was closed. She really did miss him. He was such joy in her life. He adored her mind and didn’t encourage her to censor herself. She created beautiful art with him. But right now she just wanted to look at his face for a little bit. “How have you been holding up? Have the holidays been kind to you?”

Art sat back down against the back panel of the van to face Beth, give her space, and check in on her, see how she was doing. It tended to be clear when things were falling apart and the demons were loud in her dreams, but this time he wasn’t sure. Either she was holding herself together well or she wasn’t embroiled in a fight with them just now. Either way, he was glad it wasn’t at its worst. “They’ve been going,” he acknowledged, shrugging a little. “Family is a no, friends were a go... I’m trying to reach out to everyone, y’know? Make sure I touch base, see if everybody’s okay. I’m really happy to see you, though. How are you?”

@wownicefence​

Boo hadn’t seen Art in a long time and with everyone being off for the holidays she wasn’t even sure if she could find him. Luckily she was also pretty sure that he lived in his van so she had a lead if anything. And he had to of been in it because she could hear his music playing and that was enough to get her to bang on his door and take a deep breath.

Art was on the floor in the back of his van for a good old fashioned wail to his latest sick CD purchase, and even if nobody said anything about it in the house, some things were meant to do privately, and without ticking off the roomies. He was content to croon along until the bangs didn't quite hit the drum beats blasting through his stereo, causing him to sit up and make his way up front. His face lit up when he saw who it was, opening up the sliding door with a big bright, "Hey there, Butterfly! C'mon in, it's cold out!" as he made room for her to come inside, twisting the dial to turn the music down a little.

Huey was just sitting on his bed, petting his dog, watching some channel that was still showing Christmas movies when his phone rang. He wanted to throw it across the room when he saw who was calling, and he probably would have just to be dramatic if Donald hadn’t just gotten them new phones. Huey hesitated, made sure his door was shut, and on the last ring he finally answered. “Hey,” he said as casually as he could. He felt almost out of breath, though. This was the first time he’d spoken to Art since before Halloween. He didn’t want to bring it up right away because he didn’t know why his friend had called. Maybe somehow he’d missed that message and this would have nothing to do with that. Unlikely, but he could hope, right? “What’s up?”

Art smiled in spite of it all, just softly to myself as he pulled into an empty spot in front of a quiet looking home. It had been too long since they'd talked, and he was attached to his friends, needed a dose every now and again to keep things balanced. "Nothin'," he shrugged although Huey couldn't see. "I think I'm in your little corner of the world, thought I'd give you a call and see if you wanted to go get coffee." He pulled out of his parking space to try and get a feel for the street signs, setting his phone up in a cup holder in case he needed to use navigation. "Doesn't have to be forever, I just miss ya, bud."

“Uh, yeah, that. Hopefully.” Michael knew he sounded cagey, but Christ, was he really that obviously…not normal? Like…he read as that stressed? No wonder he didn’t get invited anywhere. Was it the fact that he wasn’t making eye contact? Because he couldn’t just start, he hated it. Sadly, Michael was figuring that ‘breathing’ and ‘letting loose’ were going to be the last thing that he was going to do…Even with the amount of weed he was sure was around.

Still, at least he was called ‘cool’, though honestly he didn’t know how far that carried. Either way, he paused in the fidgeting with his sleeves to actually try to be normal. “Yeah, you guys seem cool, too.” Cool as in…they probably hadn’t been able to find a fourth guy to come, so they picked Michael out of pity. He was used to it. “So, uhh…this place is your…?”

“Parents’,” Art supplied, shrugging that off a bit after he thought about it. If the house was exclusively his parents he probably would never have considered it as an option at all. It was because of the time he and his brother and sister had spent here that made it feel like another home, so he amended parents to “Family, really, the family owns it,” shrugging and looking around. It was pretty modest as far as things went, and that only made it better, the cozy little beach shack that was theirs to enjoy and explore and make home base as they tasted freedom, some of them seemingly for the first time.

“I’m not much of a big loud party kinda guy, so it’s not like I’m spooked about letting it get trashed or whatever. It really is a pretty chill space, and there’s enough room so you can snag a room no matter when you get in there to do it. I’m not giving any hints on which one’s the best, though.”

“Stargazing is where it’s at. Stargazing on the beach is a whole different level and I’m pumped to do some.” When Art clutched Nemo’s arm the boy grinned. “I thought you might appreciate this little beauty. She’s a lifesaver when you’re in a situation where you’re trying to be inconspicuous.” Nemo definitely loved his dab pen but he would never lose his love for a good packed bowl. “I’m always a good one to have around.” He grinned widely. “Of course. Everyone has a favorite.” Nemo turned to look towards the beach. “I can’t wait to get into the water.”

“It’s gonna be everything, my friend, I promise,” Art beamed. He realized that he shouldn’t have, that he couldn’t promise anything, but it felt like it would be. Things felt like they would be okay, and Art was going to lean into that if it killed him. When the universe gave him signs, he thought it best to follow them. After his hit off the pen, Art looked to the sky for a moment before appreciating Nemo, his vibe and energy and how excited he seemed for anything and everything. “Well first pick out your room,” he laughed, “get settled and we’ll head for the water ASAP. I mean, or you can go yourself, but I don’t want you to lose out on an early pick.”

Huey smiled, nodding. “Yeah, it was nice. Really got me feeling like, I dunno, we sorta ended up in some campy movie? But, like, in a good way. Like, I love those types of movies. It’s not really like one of those movies, I don’t know why I said that. It’s just… yes, this is a good escape,” god he was still all over the place trying to talk to him. He hated that. But Art was right about the perspective. Even though he was still a mess, he felt like a relaxed mess. A mess surrounded by good friends in a good place. He was a mess, but his life wasn’t. He nodded again. “The perspective feels good out here,” he chuckled. Huey waved him off. “No, man, it was good. I liked hearing the music you like and what everyone else liked too. It was nice. Sorry if I played too many songs from the eighties and nineties.” He smiled. “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it. I didn’t bring too much.” Which, was a first. He tried to pack a lot lighter than he usually did. He had his backpack and one of his smaller duffles. “I’ll also come back out and help unpack more stuff, too. Also, I’d honestly be fine sleeping on a couch. I got two brothers, I’m good with sharing space.”

Art laughed, something pure and unrestrained for once, thinking of the road trip scenes in the best movies he’d ever seen, thinking of the few stops they’d made along the way when the music had faded just right, and Huey was right. It felt like a movie, and not a bad one either. “Nah, you’re so right,” he beamed. “Like, coming of age spiritual journey kinds of movies, though, so they’re totally right on. Right vibe, good mix of unknowns and classics. We nailed it, bud.” The mix had been nice, everyone playing music that somehow made them make a little bit more sense to Art at the very least, even though he wondered if he was getting the deep dark vibe songs or their curated “best of”s. Either way, it seemed like it was only indicative of better things to come, and he was feeling great about it. “Your music was awesome, my friend,” he applauded, and nodded towards the trunk. “Seriously, man, I can grab some of your stuff and bring it in, save you the trip, let you get comfy while I finish up and get everything going. This is a family kinda house, so there’s plenty of room for us. Nothing wrong with having a little space for once.” He winked, beaming brightly. “Anyway, you still have to pick your room, right? Get a look around.”

Nemo was more than stoked to have a weekend away from the city. It was much needed and he’d picked up extra shifts at work to save a little money to be able to blow on shit while he was gone. He couldn’t remember if he told Matt or not so he sent him a text to let him know he’d be back by Monday. When Nemo hopped out of the car and was met with Art he grinned. “Hell yeah, dude. I’m glad to be away from the city a bit. The air here even feels cleaner.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Not so much pollution. I bet you can see the stars better too at night.” Nemo grabbed his bag from inside of the car and draped it over his shoulder. He grabbed his dab pen and took a hit off of it. “These things are the future, dude. I brought bud too but…the hit on this is so smooth. Wanna try it?”

“Hey, I can vibe with a stargazer. They’re gorgeous out on the beach, and we’re far enough from the busy part of beach town.” Art couldn’t help but snort when the dab pen came into view, and he cuffed Nemo’s arm lightly with a wild guffaw of a laugh. “Dude, seriously?” he shouted, still holding out a hand when he was offered. It wasn’t like he hadn’t hit one before, but this was a bonding beyond new experiences now. “I knew you’d be a good one to have out here.” He took a hit and handed it back, the hold and exhale admittedly easy as anything, but there was something so satisfying about a blunt that this didn’t quite carry. “No matter what you brought, we’re gonna have a good easy time,” Art promised with a little wink and pat of his bag, laughing at his own absurdity soon after. “Can’t travel without your favorite strains, y’know?”

He’d never really done anything like this. The closest he’d gotten to a trip like this was boy scouts camp. And the people he was attracted to there always ended up being far too into the activities that involved knives and learning about serious survival stuff. And there was still supervision there. There was none of that shit here. And he was excited for this trip. He loved the beach, loved the ocean–a shock to probably no one that knew him for more than an hour. He got out of the car after enjoying the drive and hearing everyone else’s music choices. The house looked nice. Cozy. It could’ve been a tent and he still would’ve thought it was the coolest. The hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked over to Art with a grin. “Yes, definitely. Super stoked,” he replied. “It really does. And honestly, I’m glad about that. Need a break from all that real-world shit.” Huey pulled his backpack over his shoulder. “You excited? Also, thanks for inviting me, man. This is gonna be a fun time.”

Art had been equal parts overjoyed and surprised when Huey had actually agreed to come. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he’d have fun; the kid loved the beach, or the ocean at the very least, and seemed like he had a lot to get away from; it was just that Art felt like he’d been dragging him along way more than he should have throughout the past few months. Outside of his group, of friends and, of course, his brothers in Oozma, Art had really grown to enjoy the luxury of living stealth. No more questions more personal than he could live with, no more being deadnamed, no more incorrect pronouns or weird looks by bathrooms... it had been nice. And his friendship with Huey was nice, and while he couldn’t fathom a world where it was only nice because Huey didn’t know, it was still always in the back of his mind.

In some ways, this trip was an apology for the many times he’d geared up to tell him only to change directions at the last minute, but Art wasn’t fond of the past or dwelling on it. Instead, he framed this as a new beginning with new friends, an opportunity to grow and go from there, and a much needed respite from the hustle and bustle of the city. “Dude, honestly. It was all, like, engulfing me back there. The road trip alone and the tunes really changed it up for me already, I don’t know about you. Perspectives, man.” He laughed, eyebrows shifting then. “Sorry about all the Real Estate, though, I was really in my vibe.” He watched Huey pull up his backpack then and held his hands up in an invisible offer. “You need any help unpacking, unloading or anything? You all get first dibs on the rooms.”

Michael hadn’t spoken much on the way, mostly because, well, he pretty much only knew Huey, and it took a lot of energy to talk to groups recently. Now that he was out of the car, his backpack slung over his shoulders, he was realizing that you didn’t really need a hoodie when you went to an American beach. At least, not while you were outside. At least he’d thought to wear shorts.

The shoulder clap and shake caught him by surprise, and Michael probably let himself be shook more than he should have but he managed a grin. “Yeah. Nice to be…well, anywhere. Thanks for letting me come, by the way.” He’d never actually met Art before getting in the van, so.

Art shrugged in response, trying not to look too critical of the boy. Anyway, he wasn’t upset with him, just a little concerned. He hoped Michael would learn to loosen up a little bit while they were there; after all, that was what vacations were for, weren’t they? “Hey, honestly thanks for coming,” he offered, holding eye contact for at least as long as Michael would let him. “I just have a really good feeling about this, y’know? I just want this to be a spot where you can breathe and let loose, drop the stress for a little while.”

While Art didn’t know Michael well at all, there was something in the way that he held himself that made Art want to help him, protect him, even, though from what he wasn’t sure. Nobody made it that long through life without their demons, though, he figured, so it hardly mattered what they were. “And it’ll be rad to get to know you better, y’know? We’re in the same orbit, and you seem like a pretty cool dude.”

The drive had been long enough, Art guessed. They were passing the aux cord around with enough passion that it didn’t feel too bad at all. The traffic could have been worse, the weather could’ve sucked harder. Art’s van didn’t have the most powerful air conditioning but he as a sucker for the wind blowing through his curls anyway, so he didn’t mind the wind whipping around the van all that much. All in all, it had been a good time, a good start to what was bound to be a much needed few days away from the city. 

Art was grateful to be close enough to his brother that even as the black sheep he could snag some time at the beach house in Jersey, a cozy little shack along the dunes filled with memories, some good, some bad. He was eager to make new ones, though, and as he pulled into the white stone driveway, his excitement only grew. “Alright, fellas,” he beamed, popping the seat belt before he even stopped the engine. “This is our stop.” He climbed out of the car eagerly, going for the front door first to unlock it before beaming at the boy before him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and shaking him. “Dude, are you stoked? New York feels, like, universes away out here.”

“Don’t look at me like you’ve never seen a grown man play with a mini Stretch Armstrong in public.” Olaf had been told that it was weird, but he’d also been told that New York was weirder. He’d never noticed either of those things, but maybe this person had. “Or at least don’t look at me like I’m doing something really weird.”

“Dude, that thing is so rad,” Art said, leaning in perhaps a little too close to see the toy better. “I didn’t even know they still made these things, man, but I can’t tell you the last time I was anywhere they’d sell ‘em. Did you have to order it online? I know my one buddy gets toys and shit at Midtown but I’ve never been, I try not to hit Times Square unless I’m doing holiday shopping and I have to, but there’s like, probably so many other places to get these things. Unless they’re really rare, which-- are they?”

@wownicefence

“I have no idea why, but the urge to pour mountain dew in my cereal is so real right now.” Valerie stared at the barren bowl with a small pout. “Is that insane? Because I might do it. It’s not like there’s any milk here anyways.”

“That’s ‘cause milk is gross,” Art mumbled, looking through his cereal boxes and trying to decide which one he wanted. “I’m pretty sure we have oat milk around here somewhere if you want it, but Mountain Dew sounds dope, not gonna lie.” People ate cereal and drank coffee, anyway, so wasn’t caffeine in the cereal more efficient? “Oh, can you imagine iced coffee in Cinnamon Toast Crunch? That’s what I need.”