“Who’s the artist?” Nicky asked.

“Anonymous,” replied Aaron. There was something hard in his voice, and he was watching Andrew warily from the corner of his eye. Aaron knew, after all, that Andrew did not attract the kind of people who wrote sonnets and sent flowers. No, no, no. Andrew attracted the Drake Spears of the world.

“We’re leaving,” said Andrew. The words left his mouth cool and even, but they sounded very far away in his own ears.

For the @aftgbigbang and @psychosei ’s lovely fic good night, melpomene (come home, erato)