It was beautiful in its form and its construction. At first glance, it looked unfinished, haphazard, disjointed, but Audrey knew better. She’d seen how hard it was to bend glass, the precision it required, and she knew every bend, every chaotic kink weaving in and out and between other tubes equally edged, equally hurt, equally pained, frustrated,violated, every single one had been purposeful, crafted, and refined, the trembling of Theo’s dominant hand harnessed and intentionally channeled into the shape of things, turning and twisting the imperfections of the sculpture into something new.
This was Theo’s pain, personified and publicly displayed for the world to see.
But it wasn’t just pain. The outer shades of dark, angry, almost bloodlike red light tinged copper faded as the sculpture folded in and twisted inside and around itself, first to a dark pink or two, and then to an orange, an amber, shades of yellow and white, then, finally, to a single vivid light blue tube blazing from the dead center of it—where the core of the flame, its soul, might be nestled. The further Audrey gazed inside, squinting at the brightness of the sculpture, the more she noticed that the tubes had curved, softened, straightened. It was as though the piece had soothed itself, faded from fury to tranquility, from pain to peace, inner or otherwise.
Despite everything, a nascent kernel of hope burned brightlywithin, ready to emerge from a cocoon of devastation—like a phoenix rising from the ashes, reincarnated and born anew.
The auctioneer’s voice echoed across the ballroom, jolting everyone out of their reverie.
“Lightm4st3r has stipulated that this piece is calledarterial rupture and pulmonary crisis after interstitial fractures of right side ribs 1-3 and left side 4-7 with subsequent hemorrhagia.Or:bleed out and break your heart until it opens.”
Murmurs rustled across the ballroom at the title of the sculpture.
“That’s one helluva name he came up with,” Audrey muttered out of the side of her mouth, still wiping stray tears away with Theo’s handkerchief. They’d rolled down her cheeks again when his art was unveiled. “Do you think he could’ve added more words to it? I don’t think there are enough.”
He gave her a tiny, nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, well, he never claimed to be good at titles. He’s not a wordsmith,” he muttered back. “Just look at what he called the piece he did right before this one. Derivative and lazy as fuck.”
She snorted, but the auctioneer wasn’t done. He cleared his throat when the lights were turned back on and Theo held his breath. “The bidding will start at ten thousand dollars.”
It didn’t stay there.
As soon as the auction was launched, the ballroom descended into chaos.
People began bidding left and right, scrambling to hold up their paddles, standing at their tables, trying frantically to beat one another to the punch. Theo got in on the action long enough to help drive the price up, but it turned out he hadn’t needed to at all: the sculpture quickly hit a hundred thousand dollars—then two—then five, and he bowed out.
Many others did not.
The price soared above five hundred thousand dollars, thenseven fifty, a million, two. Theo’s eyes widened and he grew very still in his chair once his sculpture passed that threshold, continuing to climb and climb and climb—until it finally topped out at a whopping4.21 million dollars.
Eventually, the gavel came down.
And it was all over.
The auction packed up. The winner, some billionaire art collector, was congratulated. The stage was returned to the band, and attendees went back to their desserts and drinks and socializing. More people joined in on the dance floor than were there before dinner, and still Theo sat there quietly, staring blankly at their white tablecloth, his lips parted and mouth slightly agape.
He didn’t eat his dessert, so Audrey polished it off for him when he passed it to her absently (the best crème brûlée she’d ever had, if she was being honest. She liked it more than the chocolate mousse she’d chosen. Maybe Theo was onto something with his vanilla obsession) and finally tapped his shoulder.
“Theo? Are you all right?”
He turned and looked at her, his eyes falling to her empty dishes. He ripped her napkin out of her lap and threw it onto the table before grabbing her clutch and hand in his to pull her out of the seat.
“Where are we—”
She didn’t have time to finish the question. He was already moving, and she with him, his long legs increasing in speed from a walk to an uneven, limping trot while he aimed for one of the exits, the side door that led to the rest of the hotel’s event spaces. They wound their way across the dance floor before bursting into an empty hallway, where Theo suddenly hoisted her off her feet and half threw her over his shoulder.
“Theo,” she hissed. “I can walk, for god’s sake!” Sure, maybe not as fast as him in her heels, butstill.
He shushed her, his face growing redder by the second, andheaded straight for a dark glass door across the way. He yanked the handle and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it unlocked. He drew them both inside and shut the door after him.
It was a meeting room, fancy and well-appointed like she always imagined a high-powered CEO’s board room might be. The curtains were open and moonlight streamed through the windows, mingling with the lights of the city and dappling the floor in shifting shades of silver and gold. But she didn’t have much time to reflect on how nice the room was, or what they were doing there. Because as soon as the sounds of the gala were cut off behind the closed door, Theo set her down—
And promptly caged her against the wall with his arms.
The wall shuddered with the force of his impact, and he panted heavily, his expression wild, his hair mussed from running his hands through it. When he tilted his head, a soft golden shaft of light fell diagonally across his face, highlighting his eyes.
His pupils were wider and blacker, more bottomless, more of an abyss than she’d ever seen them before.
Their darkness had swallowed him whole.
