#not included but i desperately wanted to: buying bo a poster of his fave painting from the gallery gift shop

[writing-good-vibes]

art gallery dates (ft. bo and vincent)

art gallery drabbles inspired by @solivagant-muse's art hoe bo !! i'm a sucker for visiting art galleries, i just wanna hold one of the sinclairs' hand and look at art that makes me feel like my heart will explode. all fluff for once, except maybe some inner turmoil, but have y'all come to expect anything less? 😊🎨

vincent sinclair

It was by no means unusual for you and Vincent to spend the day in an art gallery.

The pair of you could spend hours wandering the different rooms and sitting, side by side, on one of the benches and looking in companionable silence at one of your favoured pieces.

Today is one of those days. On Vincent's suggest you head down to your favourite gallery and up the stone steps to the front door.

Making your way around, you notice some new pieces have been added, and a few other have been moved around. It wasn't that you needed any further excitement, but it was nice to feel like there was something different to see, even after a hundred - a thousand - visits.

Eventually, after a lot of pauses and silences and Vincent's arm around your shoulder pulling you into his side, you make it to one of the larger painting in the gallery.

This one has a bench to contemplate it from and you and Vincent waste no time in setting up camp there for a while.

Vincent's always so peaceful like this. Serene, even. He lets the art wash over him the same way he does with music, or with your touch.

He soaks in it, until it's deep in his bones.

Absentmindedly, in a gesture that has become second nature for him, he rubs slow circles over your knuckles with his thumb.

You don't even notice how long you've been sat there, leaning into Vincent's warmth, following each line and curve of the painting in front of you.

Vincent, you know, probably knows at least one thing about every piece in this gallery, having walked these rooms more times than he could even remember. Even so, he rarely divulges anything unless you ask him to. There's something about Vincent that exudes exactly what he's feeling while contemplating art (either his own or someone else), while remaining a total mystery to you at the same time.

He's an enigmatic one. Vincent Sinclair and, somehow, you end up looking at him, trying to figure him out, for far longer than your eyes ever settle on the art on the walls.

bo sinclair

"Have you ever been to a gallery before?" you ask Bo as you climb up the front steps to the cities art gallery.

He's lagging behind slightly, your arm stretching back to keep your hands connected as he stares up at the building. "Nah, I ain't."

"You'll like it, and there are a few things I wanna show you," you reassure him, making it to the grand front doors and pulling him inside.

You start your usual route around the gallery, Bo's hand still held tightly in yours. He's looking around, a nervous tension held in his brow.

He doesn't think he belong here, you realise. Art might run in the Sinclair family, but had been told, over and over, that it simply was not his calling.

And maybe it wasn't, not in the way it was Vincent's. But you knew Bo, and Bo knew art.

You don't want to take the joy of Bo's first time away from him, so you let him set the pace. He eyes a few of the artworks, clearly recognising them from some art book he'd read once (or twice. or three times). Slowly you work your way through the first room and into the second.

You try to be subtle, pointing Bo in the direction of a painting you know he loves. It's one on the most dog-eared page of his art book, the one you've caught him staring art more time than you can count at this point.

"You like this one, don't you?" you murmur, nudging Bo with your elbow.

He shrugs, fingers tightening around yours. "It's," he hesitates, "nice. The - The scope is really... I don't know, interesting."

You nod along. Following Bo's gaze as he scans over the impressive artwork.

"Who's this one by again?" It's a leading question and you hope it might be enough to get Bo to warm up.

Bo gives you a sideways glance before answering, then his eyes quickly go back to the painting in front of you.

"Why don't you tell me all about it? You know way more than I do about most of this stuff."

His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at you once more. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," you smile, squeezing his hand in yours.

Biting his lip once, nervously, he asks again, "Are you sure? I don't wanna bore you with -"

You have to cut him off, for the only time that day, "Yeah, I'm sure! I wanna know all about it!"

Eyes still wide, a smile that he tries to conceal as a smirk tugs at his lips.

He spends the next half an hour talking; reiterates the artist, tells you when, where and how the piece was made, all about the colour pallet and brush strokes, about what they say this piece means and, with a bit of prompting, what he thinks the piece means, what he likes about it.

As he speaks, he swings your entwined hands gently between you. A sign of his excitement, of his sheer joy that he rarely gets to show even the barest hint of.

When Bo is finished, he finally looks away from the art work, bashfully shrugging his shoulder, like he hadn't just given a near word perfect mini-lecture.

"I love how smart you are about all of this," you grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.