Challenge Fic: The Portrait
Title: The Portrait
Author:
comicshopgrl
Characters\Pairing: Hal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 884
Challenge: Hal/Kyle Weekly Drabble Challenge #3
Prompt: drawn, elevator, finish, reveal
Summary: Hal moves into a new place alone and struggles to deal.
Disclaimer: DC owns everything sadly.
Author’s notes\Warnings: I thought I’d come up with some sort of cracked out fic considering the fever and all the cold medicine I’ve been on but no. It’s just sad.
Shoving the last box from the elevator, Hal wiped his forehead on the back of his arm. Even on a cool October day a man could work up a sweat hauling boxes and furniture.
It would have been easier if he could have asked his friends for help but that bridge had been burned weeks before. He hadn’t heard a word from John or Guy since the funeral. John wouldn’t even look at him as they lowered the casket into the ground and Guy…Guy just stared through him. He looked lost and childishly bewildered as Tora guided him to the grave to toss a rose in. Hal had tried to say something to him but the glare he had gotten from Guy’s protector had stopped any sort of condolence he might have offered. What could he have said anyway? It was his fault. It was his fault that Kyle was dead.
Resting his head on the door of his new fridge, he tried very hard not to think of the accident or of Kyle. It didn’t work. He couldn’t will away the memory of Kyle lying in his arms, gasping out his last breaths, telling Hal to be strong. The metallic scent of his lover’s blood filled the room and Hal barely made it to the sink before he retched.
Shaking, he wiped his mouth with his hand and rubbed it on his leg. There was only one thing that had made the memories tolerable. Wrenching open the refrigerator door, he snatched the half-finished six pack he had left there the night before. He popped the top and chugged one bottle until it was empty. When that didn’t help, he repeated with a second and a third beer.
The shaking eased but Hal grabbed another case from the fridge and took it with him into the living room. Leaning against the wall, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He opened another beer and surveyed the room. It was smaller than the place he had shared with Kyle. He didn’t need much room. Not now.
The beer had calmed him down some and he idly began opening some boxes. Sorting through the remnants of his life was rather soothing. Dishes went into the kitchen pile. Towels went into the stack for the bathroom. Tools were heaped together for the utility closet. The box with his clothing gave him some pause as the familiar scent of Kyle’s cologne came wafting out. Hal pushed that aside to unpack later and consoled himself with another beer.
When he felt strong enough to go on, he tugged another box towards him. This one was heavy with books. Setting aside hard covers about famous aviators and paperbacks about steamy space adventures, Hal came to a stack of sketchbooks at the bottom of the container.
For a moment, he couldn’t decide what to do. He had spent most of the evening trying to forget Kyle but suddenly he had the urge to touch something Kyle had touched. Lifting the first sketchbook, he thumbed opened the cover.
The first few sketches were for some kind of cola advertising. There were drawings of people on surfboards drinking soda followed by little fuzzy teddy bears hugging cans of pop. Those pictures were followed by half-finished drawings of dinosaurs, bikini clad women, and tiny little ninjas. The doodles from Kyle’s imagination made Hal laugh a little. They were so him.
About halfway through the book, Kyle had started drawing portraits of people he knew. There was a large one of Kilowog munching on a box of donuts-box and all. There was a sweet one of Arisia sleeping propped up on Guy’s bar. Kyle had also drawn a series of portraits of Guy that revealed a great deal of affection for his subject. There were sketches of Guy fighting, Guy grinning, Guy wiping down his bar with a look of deep concentration.
A flare of jealousy tore at him and Hal scowled at Guy’s face. Flipping to the next page, any annoyance was replaced by a more indescribable feeling. Kyle had drawn a portrait of Hal sleeping on his back, his arm thrown over his head. There was an indefinable quality to his face that Hal had never seen in the mirror.
Shaken, he flipped the page. The next portrait was identical to the first except for the inclusion of the artist. Hal was still pictured asleep but Kyle had drawn himself as a ghostly figure floating above him, his hand outreached but unable to connect. His face was unbearably sad as he failed to touch his lover.
Hal dropped the sketchbook and clutched his hands together, bowing his head. He had never known, never suspected Kyle was anything but happy with their relationship. How could he have been so blind?
Realization came at him in a flood of memories. Kyle introducing himself to Hal’s friends after he failed to do so. Kyle wincing as Hal described him as his date and not his boyfriend. Hal never asking him to stay the night. Kyle uttering the first ‘I love you’ as Hal struggled to offer one up only in the throes of passion. He had let Kyle down in everyway possible.
And for the first time since Kyle died, Hal wept.