Thanks so much for the early support, everyone! It's so kind of you. =3

If you can't tell, I drew the cover art. Yeah, wow – I should stick to words. xD

Because I didn't say it before, I'll say it now. This is rated T for violence, some language, and some suggestive themes. Basically… the reasons you would rate something T. But I wanted to back that up with a quick promise to not use the 'f' word. Some images might get a little graphic, so if you're squeamish, I'll put a warning at the beginning of the seediest chapters. Nothing too bad that it needs to be rated M though, I don't think.

Without further ado from me, here's the first real chapter.

The Artist

He had never really wanted this. It never felt right to him. But the secret pleasure continued to grow, and suddenly he was left staring at the only thing he wanted to do. Paint.

Toby was born with a fishing pole in his hand. It was his uncle's business, his late father's only hobby, and his own childhood. The silver-haired boy could spend countless hours on the docks waiting for a bite, and always winding up with nothing but a day staring at the clouds and dreaming away under the Castanet sun.

That was just how Toby worked. The fact of the matter was – he didn't.

But something changed as he grew into the young man standing under the shadow of the lighthouse. There was something better than fish for once. It started slow, but it escalated into this very moment.

The fishing pole he once so loved was left abandoned near the water where the waves licked the sand. Toby was just a few tantalizing yards away where his tall wooden easel was hastily placed on the beach. A canvas with a quick ocean sketch in acrylics was propped upon its base, but resting on the stand was Toby's true intent. The paint splashed as he furiously worked, struck with sudden inspiration and a passion only known to an artist.

Making paint spirals in his dish, swirling the colors for the perfect tones, Toby was lost in his own world of brush strokes and oils. He didn't hear his friend casually approach behind him.

The sand didn't make a sound as the man stepped lightly and crept up behind his friend. "What on Earth are you painting this time?"

Toby jumped, nearly dropping his brush. Twirling around, he had to look up at the six foot man – who towered above his five foot four – before he could find words. "Damn it, Julius, you'll be the end of me!"

Lord Julius Wotton chortled and stuck his decorative black walking cane into the sand. "Oh, Mr. Hallward, you always were such an excitable fellow! Perhaps I should have known your temper by now, but I simply can't help these delightful opportunities to strike emotions like this out of you."

Flustered and hurriedly changing the canvases so he was working on the seascape, Toby Hallward muttered: "Temper! I've no temper that I know of…"

"Exactly!" Lord Julius said, taking note of the discarded fishing pole and sidestepping around it. "You're such a bore, really, my dear friend. Well, on most days. But this new painting of yours seems to have given your dull character some hope. Come, come! Tell me all about it!"

Knowing his eccentric, purple-haired friend was harmless, Toby let out a great sigh as he moved the brush with the wrong color over the sandy beach scene. "I couldn't help it – I was just… struck with such amazing inspiration. Fishing, you know."

"Mmhm." Julius mused, not to be taken as a fool. "And this… landscape of yours… Do you always paint water with such a soft complexion?"

Realizing his mistake too late, Toby cursed under his breath and carelessly cleaned the brush on his coat. The real object of his inspiration lay at the back of the easel, facing the bright blue ocean before them. "It's my masterpiece, Julius! …I can feel it."

"Riveting." He said, languidly gliding about the easel. The walking stick was reaching slowly out to the back of the mysterious canvas and Julius's maroon eyes glittered with curiosity. "If only I could have peek…?"

"No!" Toby immediately took the defensive and blocked his friend's advance. "Please, Julius, no! …It's not finished. I'm still working on it!"

"Fine, fine, I would hate to see you uncomfortable, my friend." Lord Julius planted his cane firmly at his feet with such convincing sympathy that Toby let down his guard. "Now – are you going to at least feed me a hint? I'm simply starving here, Mr. Hallward."

Giving his friend a sideways smirk as he wiped away the mistake on his board with a cloth, he said: "It's a portrait…"

"Better, better!" Julius cheered. He waited for a moment as the sea breeze blew gently through, but decided the pause was too long as a gull cried. "Well, aren't you going to give me a name?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to do that to him—" Toby stuttered, face flushing.

"A he, is it?" Lord Julius interrupted. "My, I can't wait to meet the young fellow!"

"Meet him?" Toby asked hesitantly. "Oh… oh, no, I don't think that's a good idea…"

Picking up a fallen paint brush from the sand, Julius thumbed the bristles with his gloved hand. "Why ever not? Oh, I believe I've asked one too many questions already today. No matter – I'm sure I'll bump into him eventually. When I learn his name – oh! What a surprise it should be. I'm sure to scare the poor lad half to death."

"Please, Julius, don't be… don't do that to him. He's very innocent and shy." Toby stuck up for he who was not present. He set the seascape aside and looked longingly at the second canvas. "He's a good kid. I hope to keep him posing for me – this portrait of his is my best work yet. I just know it."

"Oh, I was only joking!" Julius scoffed with a wave, placing the brush in Toby's shirt pocket and giving it a reassuring pat. "I promise to leave him be and let you alone to your secret portrait painting business – if you can tell me a name. Just a little trinket before I go?"

Rolling his eyes in defeat, wanting so badly to continue painting the portrait, Toby felt there could be no harm in the admittance. Lord Julius walked away slowly, still hoping to catch a sound but never so juvenile to let it be known. Replacing the half-finished canvas back on the easel and looking over his palette, Toby pressed the brush down and lifted ever so carefully.

"His name is Gill."