The fight started when Baird found the new campaign poster. The problem wasn't that Prescott decided to use a different design than what Baird suggested, but that the photo was one Baird knew. And he was no longer in it. Prescott endured the stony silence for twenty minutes as he continued writing a speech for tomorrow's event.
"It was a mock up," Prescott said at last. "I had to provide the artist with something on short notice."
"You realize the 'something' was a picture from our anniversary, right?" Baird asked.
Prescott opened his mouth to reply but only a mangled setence of "Um"s and "Well"s escaped. He wondered why the photo popped so quickly to mind when asked for a reference. And of course Baird—with his outstanding memory—never forgot why it sat on the mantle above the fireplace since last year.
"You've been erasing me from your life since this stupid campaign began," Baird spat.
"That's not true," Prescott replied weakly.
The blond swept his arm to showcase the room. Every surface had something related to Prescott's hopeful re-election. His smiling face looked back at him from all angles and sizes.
"You kept all of this a secret. You never tell me when you're going out to campaign. You use our personal photographs and edit me out like I'm some fucking disgrace."
"I didn't realize you wanted to be included."
"Bullshit. I told you before I would support you. I didn't realize that meant I'd cease to exist. Why don't you just tell the public already? Everyone suspects a politician of having a gay lover; you'd be ahead of the game."
"Right now it would cause a huge scandal. I'd be accused of swaying votes, not to mention I'd probably lose my biggest supporters."
Baird crossed his arms over his chest. "A scandal is more important than how I feel? I wanted to help you, not get pushed aside like a dirty secret."
Prescott was, in fact, surprised Baird was this upset. He'd been treating the relationship with such nonchalance that Prescott had felt like the secret. But there was no mistaking Baird's attention to romance when the mood suited him.
"I'm trying to make life easier for you," Prescott said numbly. "Your career at the university could—"
"No one gives a shit. I told my colleagues a long time ago. I didn't mention who I was dating because I hadn't discussed it with you. But maybe I still don't have to. Maybe they'll get the break up story instead."
"Are you—"
"Yeah, I'm serious. You barely even acknowledge me in public! But hey, at least you still have your campaign."
Without a backwards glance, Baird left. The front door slammed hard enough Prescott believed it was busted now. He stared around the suddenly cold room. The once friendly smiles on his propaganda now shone a malicious light. They mocked him as he went back to work on his speech.