Page 102 of Martyr

“He cures my insomnia,” Lake replied.

“What?” Nix turned to him. “Since when?”

“Since the beginning,” he admitted as Grady led them to a painting in the corner of the third room. “After our first…encounter, I slept like a baby for the first night in over a decade.”

“I didn’t know that.” He doubted anyone did. The others still commented on Lake’s insomnia all the time. “You’re always gone in the morning when we spend the night together.”

“Oh.” Khloe grinned at them and waved both hands when Nix looked at her. “Sorry. Sorry. This is just unexpectedlywholesome. Except for the sleeping together part. But, like, that was obvious so…Please, continue.”

“No,” Nix held up a palm before Lake could, “Let’s not.”

Dew’s painting wasn’t very large, around thirteen by eleven inches or so. It had swirls of vibrant colors, mixtures of neon pinks and purples with flashes of bright yellows and greens. Admittedly, Nix didn’t really get it. It was pretty, but a bit too chaotic for his personal tastes. Still, he snapped a photo and sent it to Juri, then leaned into Lake.

“Want to move on?” he suggested, leaving Grady and Khloe there as they discussed the color palette—though it seemed like neither of them understood what their friend had intended with it either.

He and the Imperial entered the final room, which held less work and more blank space between hung canvases. The entire opposite wall was empty aside from a single piece that was still shrouded with a white cloth.

“Made it just in time.” West appeared at their sides, hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress pants. He motioned toward the covered canvas with his chin. “They’re about to unveil June’s work.”

Since his piece was the focal point of the gallery showing, there was a big reveal for it, and a crowd had already gathered in the room, waiting. There were a range of ages as well, not just students milling about like in the rest of the gallery. Older men and women also lingered nearby.

“Reporters,” Lake explained, catching his eyes scanning the space, “and art collectors.”

“He’s a Sang, after all,” West added. “This is his first showing of the year.”

“His parents aren’t happy it’s taking place here,” Lake drawled, and when Nix frowned, he shrugged. “Foxglove University is prestigious, but they wanted him to open his owngallery first. He disagreed because he didn’t feel the need to overshadow the hard work of his peers.”

Yejun had known he’d bring in a crowd if he took part in this school show and only this school show, was what Lake was implying.

How…altruistic.

If only the Demon could be that way toward Nix.

They still hadn’t spoken since that night, and the strain was starting to get to everyone.

“It’s about to happen,” West said and they all turned to watch as one of the art professors walked over to the three feet by three feet piece and bowed in greeting to them all.

“Where’s Yejun?” Nix asked as she started to present the artist and there was no sign of him.

“Fashionably late,” West leaned in and told him in a hushed tone. “That’s his thing with these. He’ll show up once everyone’s had a chance to ooh and aah over his work.”

The professor finished what she’d been saying and bowed again to a round of clapping. Then she reached up, grabbed a fistful of the cloth, and dramatically tugged it free to expose the painting hidden beneath.

The entire room gasped in unison.

Except for Nix, who for a moment couldn’t process what he was looking at.

The color scheme was warm, beige, browns, and golden hues. An exposed rear took up most of the canvas, rounded cheeks flushed, one with a slight imprint of a hand across it. The subject's thighs were only partially drawn on the page, but his balls and the tip of his dick were visible. Glistening globs of white were leaking from his hole, painted in such detail that it almost appeared to be a photograph.

The subject’s ass was the main focal point, but it’d been drawn at an angle that allowed for the tip of his head to appeartoward the far right corner of the canvas, his sandy blond hair an exact match to Nix’s own shade.

“Oh My Light,” someone hissed nearby. “Isn’t that—”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“This was approved?”

“Yeah, I’d tap that too if—”

---