These five drabbles were inspired by a photo prompt courtesy of the Drabylon community. The timeline is 507-510. The title is from the poem, I Died for Beauty, by Emily Dickinson.

They're dedicated to youbetterwiseup. She knows why.









And So, As Kinsmen Met a Night


“Michael said I had to see it to believe it.” Emmett stood in the doorway, holding up a grease-stained, brown paper bag.

Justin’s eyes lit up. “Tessaro’s! You’re a mind reader.” He pulled Emmett inside and kicked the door shut. “And a life saver. I’m starving.”

“Naturally,” Emmett said, looking around. “What else would you be in a place like this?”

Happily ignoring the familiar joke, Justin opened the bag, unwrapping the first hamburger he found. He didn’t have to figure out which was his. When it came to Pittsburgh’s best burgers, he and Emmett had the exact, same taste.


~.~


“Ugh,” Justin groaned, unbuckling his belt and sprawling back on the mattress. “Ate too fast.”

Emmett gave Justin his drink. “Take three fast sips, then hold your breath. You’ll burp out all the fullness.”

“Aunt Lula?” Justin asked, after a successfully noisy result.

“Carl.”

Laughing, Justin rolled onto his side. “How is it, living with him?”

“He caught me in flagrante delicto last week.”

“I’m surprised it took that long.” Mirth danced in Justin’s eyes. “Was Debbie with him?”

“Of course. Her divining rod never rests.”

“Four times,” Justin said, grinning.

“Twelve.”

Justin raised his Sprite, one veteran to another.


~.~


“Shit,” Justin said, looking at the clock. “I’ve got to keep working. Deadline’s Friday.”

“Lindsay told me.” Emmett smiled, ruffling Justin’s hair. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Em,” Justin said, smiling back.

“Come on.” Emmett sat up, helping Justin to his feet. “Show it to me.”

“There’s not much to see,” Justin warned.

Understatement. The canvas was solid black.

“Foundation?” Emmett guessed.

“Yeah.” Justin bit his nail, studying the painting. “I’m building layers.” He looked up. “Want to help?”

“Me?” Emmett looked alarmed.

“Michelangelo’s apprentices helped him all the time.”

“In that case,” Emmett said, picking up the nearest brush, “where do I start?”


~.~


“Here,” Justin said, holding up a black shirt. “Put this on.”

“Is that Brian’s?”

“Yeah.”

Emmett looked closely at the shirt Justin was wearing. Paint-ruined. Black. “And that?”

Justin shrugged, trying for innocent, but Emmett saw the wicked gleam in his eye.

After donning the shirt, Emmett dipped his brush into a trayful of paint, then streaked crimson across his chest. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that.” Justin turned to hide his smile. “Now, try this.” He slapped three fast strokes onto the canvas.

Emmett followed Justin’s lead, and soon they’d established an easy rhythm, a concert of color and conversation.


~.~


At midnight, Emmett put his brush down. “It’s time,” he said, regretfully. “I have to be at the farmer’s market before dawn to buy all their spinach.”

“Quiche?”

“Vic’s gnocchi.”

They reminisced while standing in the doorway.

“Thanks for everything, Emmett. For the food, for-”

“My pleasure, baby,” Emmett interrupted, kissing Justin’s forehead. “See you Friday.”

Ahead of schedule, Justin decided to clean up then go to bed. He was almost done, when he saw the small, red swirl. He reached for a brush automatically, intent on restoring the canvas to black, then stopped, smiled, and put the brush down.