Reaching for His Dreams

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Once in his bedroom, Corey began packing, not sure what he should bring, as he had never gone to a convention before. Sketchbook, he decided, ...um...drawings! Racing to his shelves of sketchbooks, he took out a couple of the older ones, which still looked good enough to show people, and pulled out a few loose pages, smiling at the memories of drawing the characters there. He hadn't drawn anything from a television show or anime in at least a year, but he enjoyed the style, and most of his drawings looked like anime, though he wouldn't call it that. A couple of his drawings drew heavily upon Korean drawings, very soft and flowing, and more were realistic, but he still had a lot of anime.

Pulling out a portfolio from the top of the shelf, which was decorated with drawings on the inside and outside. The outside was very colorful and sure to draw the eye, and a lot of the inside drawings were of his best, though most were a year old. "Mmm'kay, this'll work," Corey said, smiling to himself before taking out another portfolio that was next to it, which was a couple months newer. Finding a dry erase marker, he wrote rather reasonable prices on the plastic coverings, deciding that his colored art should be more expensive than the drawings he had done in class. Namely, Hardwell's class.

Putting the portfolios into his bag, he stowed a few sets of clothes into the bag, making sure that he would look nice during the days of the convention. Packing essentials, like his phone charger, toothbursh and paste, and comb, he set the bag at the foot of his bed, excitement running through him and preventing him from sleeping.
 
Vincent had put the last box in the back seat, and he was almost ready to go. He threw the backpack in the passenger seat of his car, and now it was time to head off to the convention. It was just a hop and a skip, and he made sure to get there early. Well, his early wasn't early enough. There was a long line, atleast a mile long. But that was for the normal con-goers. Thank god he ordered the VIP pass when he did. He showed it to one of the managers in the booth, and they asked that a few people come and help take the boxes out to his booth. Thank GOD that it was actually close to someplace that might be buzzing with potential.

Vincent got started setting up his corner. He displayed the shirts for sale, along with the books- both manga and regular books. He also put up paintings and other forms of art, and he blasted music- softly blasting, of coarse. He played theme music for some anime theme and endings and others were just popular songs that people might recognize fast- let it be Japanese or American, they were iconic. He also wrote on a large blackboard for the prices, along with information about contacting him for sales.

It wasn't long till others came and noticed the humble stand of his. He managed to make atleast four sales- one being a trade. A lovely little teenager didn't have enough for a book she wanted to get, so she traded him six dollars, a bag of Japanese candy, and a flower crown from her cosplay. He, being a teenager once, let her make off with the book and he got something to satisfy his sweet tooth. After that, sales got a little slower.

He managed to catch up on some work. Vincent pulled out a sharpie, looked over the new book that he desperately didn't want to read. He put on the flower crown for good measure. Maybe someone might come and take it off his hands. He didn't want to look like a pansy.
 
Corey came to the convention a bit later, and the line was even longer. Dismaying at it, he frowned before one of the men in the booth in the front saw his VIP pass already slung around his neck and had someone escort him inside. Once inside, Corey walked around in a sort of daze, even while the guy escorting him was leading him towards the Artist's Alley, after Corey had gotten out, "I'm with...Vincent and...uh, company..." The man had led him to a medium-sized table, just large enough to be noticed but not too big that he had a lot of empty space on his table.

As he sat his portfolios on top of his table, he smiled at the man as he said that if he needed anything he should just ask. Nodding, he resisted the urge to wave, feeling way too euphoric for his own good. Setting his portfolios to open pages, he sat down before eventually looking all around him, still in a state of awe. To his right, he heard music pouring out from a radio, and turned his head, snapping out of his trance for a moment.

"Mr. Hardwell," he said, an easy smile appearing on his face. "Hey." Seeing how done-up Hardwell's table looked, he glanced down at his measely two portfolios, before getting his drawing pencils and markers from his bag and giving a few dollars to one of the other artists selling their work nearby for a posterboard. Almost immediately, he began designing a logo for himself, occasionally talking with someone who came up to him and browsed through his artwork, putting C. Lewis in large, graffiti-esque letters, though you could still read it legibly. Coloring it in bright oranges and greens, he made sure it had an exuberant look, wanting to catch people's eyes. Taping it to the front of the table, he smiled as he caught someone's eye, glad that his sign was working.
 
" Oh, don't call me that, " Vincent said, with a small chuckle. " It's vacation, not school. Call me Vincent. " He said, as he put away the book and the sharpie. It was his vacation, he could work later. But, later seemed to never come. He was bombarded with teenagers in weird face paint or weird costumes, ogling at the plethora of shirts and merchandise he had for sale. It was an easy thing, selling products to teenagers. It was a simple plan to it:

" Oh! I love that. How much is it? " They would ask.
" How much do you think it is? " Vincent would reply.
" I'll give you twenty-five dollars, and some stickers I got from a weird man in a schoolgirl uniform. " They would say, eagerly.
" I'm sold. " Vincent would say, taking the product and wrapping it kindly for the other.

It was easy, he couldn't understand why people said it was hard. It may have been hard for the artists, but it was a sinch for anyone else. Vincent then thought of how Corey was doing. He looked over from his spot, and he was happy to see that business was doing good for him. He sat down again, and sighed. This was a good day. Too bad that Vincent was still wearing the flower crown. He looked like a total pansy.
 
Occasionally, Corey had noticed the crown atop of Hardwell's head, but paid it no mind. Maybe he was into that kind of stuff, he decided, figuring that it didn't matter and he shouldn't ask about it. Besides, he had gotten him the pass for the convention. Smiling each time he sold a piece of his artwork, he felt a bit sad each time he sold one of his better drawings, feeling strangely attached to each of the characters he had drawn. Nodding to a girl dressed as Sailor Jupiter, he took out the drawing she was buying, gingerly handing it to her like it was precious. It was, in his eyes, as he had spent a couple hours drawing it and creating a story for her.

Handing her off for twenty-five dollars, he put the money in his wallet, amazed that so many people enjoyed his drawings enough to pay all that money to him. Already, he had made more than enough to pay for his air conditioner if it broke, which would probably save his life if it broke during the winter. In between the sales he made, he would draw, sometimes pausing to think or to glance about, still in wonder.
 
Vincent made a few more sales, a few more trades, and a few more quick bucks. He even managed to sell the flower crown. Thank GOD! It was comfortable, though. He missed it faintly. A few minutes later, after his last sale, he walked out of his booth and pulled down a tarp. He took the whiteboard out and erased the prices, and wrote. " CLOSED 4 BUSINESS " He then placed it beside the booth, and put the sharpie away. That would tell the customers that he was out for a walk, or closed for the night.

He then began to walk around. He bought some things, mostly books and music, but also a couple of commissions that would probably take a while to get ordered out. It was a good thing he gave them his e-mail, so they could forward it to him. He also managed to take some pictures of amazing cosplays, and he faintly wished he had dressed for the occasion. If he tried hard enough, he could make a bad closet cosplay of a Pokemon trainer, but that was for another day- for if he ever got out of town.

After he got some things that struck his fancy, he got a quick dinner and he went back to sell again. He would do so for a few more hours, and then he might walk around some more and go to his hotel room and start back up again. Oh, he liked the sound of that.
 
Corey breaked for lunch at about one, putting up a small, hand-made sign stating that he was gone for a while. When he returned, in a slightly better mood than when he had left, he was prepared to start selling art again, and did, making a few more sales before the crowds started to thin and he could slack off a bit, occasionally leaving his table to buy something or take a picture with someone cosplaying. In truth, he was looking much happier than he ever did in Hardwell's class, among people who enjoyed his artwork and could hold conversations with him.

I wish I could've cosplayed, he thought to himself as he drifted back to his table, yawning. He had been in such a rush that he hadn't been able to get a hotel room, so he was deciding that he might as well find an overnight parking garage and fall asleep there. His backseat was decently comfortable, and he had made sure to pack a couple blankets and a pillow, so he shouldn't be too cold. Checking the weather for the night on his phone, he frowned at the temperature. It was supposed to be inching towards 0 degrees tonight, and snow was almost certain. Better buy another couple blankets from some table that was still opened.

Packing his things back into his backpack, he wondered if he should have brought something to carry his sign in so it wouldn't get dirty. Putting his bottle of water into his bag, he slung it over his shoulder, sighing as he zipped his jacket up again. It would be a cold night, he decided, and he didn't want to wake up to frostbite.
 
Vincent walked back to his booth a little after Corey did. He had met up with a good friend of his, and he managed to talk with him for a while. He was dressed as Mega Man, and really, Vincent was way too jealous. He spent a LOT of time on his costume, and his gun actually fired white bean-bags. Oh, Vincent was tempted to buy the gun, just for his own amusement. But, he never did. Once he got back to his stand, he saw Corey packing his things.

" Leaving so soon? " Vincent asked, as he took the board and wiped it clean. He pulled up the tarp, and displayed his products once more. Once he got around the table, he wrote again on the board, and he sat in his chair.
 
"Yeah," Corey nodded, stifling back a yawn. "I'm getting pretty tired, and I need to buy a couple blankets and find a parking garage or something before I can go to sleep...I sort of dont have a hotel room..." he shrugged, as if he didn't really care, but he was tempted to stop at a gas station or something to buy a scarf or gloves. Or both...

Slinging his backpack over a shoulder, he sighed before running a hand through his hair, not looking forward to sleeping in the back seat of his car and praying that he didn't wake up all blue from frostbite. "I...guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, shrugging, appearing as if he was about to leave, sighing softly as he bent down to tie his shoes.
 
Vincent would offer to share his hotel room with him, but that was illegal and slightly worrying to some people. Let those people be Corey's parents. But he was far too young to be doing anything like that! He thought for a second, but sighed. " You know, I'm too old to be insisting that you sleep in my room, but technically you're under my watch and technically I do have to take care of you. I am your teacher. " He said, with a shrug.

" You can use my room, I could sleep with one of my buddies. Honestly, I could stand some loud snoring over knowing that you're out there getting a cold. " He said, once again.
 
Corey shook his head. "Mr. Hardwell," he said, before correcting himself like he had told him to that morning. "...uh, Vincent...I don't want to force you out of your hotel room...you paid for it, and I don't want to feel like a freeloader for sleeping in a bed meant for you...Besides, you've already given me too much, and I don't know how I'd be able to repay you. Besides, I don't want you to impose on your friends..." He sighed softly, frowning.

"Please, if you're gonna force it, just let me sleep on the couch or something...I won't tell my parents," he added, immediately seeing how that could be a problem. "I'd just feel back leaving you to deal with snoring because I forgot to get a room."
 
Vincent wanted to correct him on something- he never really was paying for the hotel room. His boss was paying for everything, he was just there to sell. But, if it helped the kid sleep at night, he would let him think that. But Vincent was also not forcing it- well, not as much as he would like. If he was to have it his way, he would have said, " No. You're staying in my room and you're going to like it. " But that was illegal. And really really awkward.

" Alright, " He said, nodding. " Here, I'll give you the key to the room. I have another one, " He said, as he took it out of his pocket and handed it towards the adolescent. " I'll be up there in a few hours. I'm going to meet some friends later. "
 
"M'kay," Corey said, before adding, "And thanks. I would've probably gotten frostbite or something if I slept in my car..." Giving him a quick smile, he turned and left, navigating his way through the convention to the entrance. When he got to his car, he set his things in the passenger seat before checking out the key, getting the address and room number from it within a couple seconds of examining it. Waiting a couple minutes for his car to warm up, he sat there with his hands stuffed in his pockets, wondering how he would have survived that by sleeping in the back seat.

When the junky green car was warmed up enough to drive, he began driving towards the hotel, using the GPS on his phone to find it. Eventually finding the hotel, he parked before walking in, feeling slightly out of place as he walked towards the elevator. Most of the people who had rooms there were going to the convention, so he didn't feel too awkward, but he still felt weird. When he reached the room, he entered and set his bag down in front of the couch, getting out his sketchbook, wanting to finish a drawing that he had been working on earlier. Sitting down at the desk, he bent over his work, though sleep kept tugging at his eyelids. Forcing himself to stay awake, at least until Hardwell got there, he finished the drawing in good time, and was soon lying on the couch, calling his mother to tell her that he was doing fine and had gotten somewhere to spend the night at. When he had hung up, he resorted to watching television, bored out of his mind but having no inspriation to draw.
 
Vincent stayed at the con for a few more hours, up until it was sometime around eight. He managed to make a bucketload of money- enough to pay rent for atleast three months. Minus the additional charges. And it was only the first day! Oh, he secretly thanked his bosses for being such smart men. Secretly, because in all honesty, they weren't that smart. You wouldn't believe the kind of people they let publish books. It was almost blasphemous.

Vincent met up with his friends, and they managed to hang around and talk up a storm. All of which they talked about started with, " My wife, " " My kid, " " My dog, " " My girlfriend, " " My boyfriend, " " My small business, " And Vincent was... Slightly jealous. He wanted something- well, more importantly, someone to talk about. He then talked about some weird things that happened in the high school. That was good small talk. Then, his friends asked if he was dating anyone, which Vincent said no. They ripped on him for the longest time, before they started to disband and tell each other goodbyes.

Vincent rode to the hotel in silence, deep in thought. Would he even have time to date? He had considered it many times, yes, but he had never really done anything about it at all. He would probably be so bad at it- he hasn't dated anyone since school has started. Yes, he has flirted with many-a-lady, and occasionally men- well, once, but could you really blame Vincent? The man who looked like a lady had long hair and a lovely stature. It was a secretive one night stand, and... It really wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He'd do it again, sure, but he would be discrete about it.

He got there, and he climbed up to the room he was assigned. Vincent got in, and he set his things on his bed. He stayed quiet, incase the other was asleep. Well, he wasn't. Which he was slightly thankful for. he was also thankful for the fact that the room was a smoking room. " Do you mind if I smoke? " He asked, as he pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket and pulled one out.
 
"No, it's fine," Corey said, sitting up. Brushing his hair back, he stifled back a yawn before turning the television down. "Have fun with your friends?" he asked, obviously just trying to create small talk. During the last semester, Hardwell and Corey hadn't had the best of relationships. For the most part, Corey would scrap by with just the bare minimum, and though he would try to study and understand everything, nothing stuck. And for some reason that made him either a slacker or just stupid. And now, when it was both of them in a room together, he had no idea how to act around Hardwell.

Were they still teacher and student? Or were they now friends? Wishing he knew exactly which category they now fell in, he sighed softly, adjusting his glasses. Suddenly, and without warning, Aaron popped up in his mind, and a wave of grief and confused anger ran through him. His expression instantly darkening, he frowned, clenching his hands into fists as tears filled his vision. I've gotta get over him, he thought to himself, bringing up a hand to brush away the tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks. I just need to find someone else who can make me happy again, make me forget about him...
 
Vincent wished he could say he had fun. " Oh, they're assholes, " Vincent said, as he lit his cigarette and took a deep puff. " But I love them. " He said, as he let the smoke exit through his mouth. Vincent did love his friends and that was the truth. But he just didn't love how they constantly ripped on him. But then again, Vincent was a big baby about a lot of things. He would often find himself slacking off on correcting his student's work, and that would cause an uproar.

He turned towards Corey to start some small talk, but he just looked at him. The other looked... sad. Was he crying? Vincent kept looking at him. Yes, he was crying, and he did look miserable. " Uh, is something the matter? " He asked, slowly inching from his spot on the bed, closer towards the other. Even if he was a teacher- a teacher that Corey probably did not like, he still didn't like to see his students upset. Vincent thought through the years that he teached, and thought of what might be the problem. " Uh... Is it your girlfriend? " Well, probably not. He didn't see a lot of boys- teenagers, crying over their girlfriend. And it was 2013. " Your uh, your boyfriend? " His cat, maybe?
 
As soon as Hardwell asked him if he could be near crying about his boyfriend, the tears he had been barely holding back spilled over, and he was sobbing, hardly caring that his trigonometry teacher was sitting there watching. In between sobs and gasps for breath, he was speaking, the words just spilling out of his mouth seemingly endlessly.

"My...boyfriend A-Aaron broke up with me the other day and I haven't gotten over him...I...I still love him. And I don't know why he broke up with me. I just feel...broken...it hurts, and I don't know how to cope with it. I know I must sound like a girl, but I-I...I can't help it...I j-just want to forget about him, at least for a while...I don't care how it is, I just don't want to hurt anymore..."
 
Vincent hesitated before he reached over and hugged him. He had worked at a daycare, he knew that all crying kids wanted was either candy or a hug, and it looked like this kid just wanted someone to be there for him. " Shhh... " He said, holding him. " You're fine, you can cry. You're not a girl, " He said, letting go slightly. He reached over and handed him a box of kleenex. " I know it hurts, but that's what makes it great, " He said, with a small smile. " You'll get over him with time, and with time you'll find someone who'll mean so much more. "

Vincent looked around for something to tell him- maybe a story? Well, he might as well. " I dated someone once, and oh boy, did I love them. They were my best friend, and I really couldn't imagine life without them. But, they left my life, and yeah, I was miserable. But I got better- I got two great jobs, plenty of great friends and family, and I even started seeing other people that started to mean so much more. This is just a bump in the road, you'll get better. "
 
At first, Corey was too surprised to do anything when Hardwell hugged him. But after a couple seconds, and another wave of sadness and pain ran through him, he buried his face in his teacher's shoulder, not caring that he was his teacher. Shaking with sobs by the time he had let go, handing him a box of tissues, Corey tried to wipe away the worst of the tears, though he ended up just wringing a tissue between his hands, tearing it into tiny pieces.

This was the first time he had actually let himself fully think about losing Aaron. The other days since he had forced himself to only think of it in passing, as if it didn't really matter, and now he was a complete mess in front of his teacher. Pushing down the worst of his sobs, he was silent as Hardwell told him about someone he had once loved. It seemed weird, that his trigonometry teacher could ever love someone like that, but he guessed it was because he had never thought of Hardwell as anything but his teacher. Supposing that he thought differently now, he nodded at Hardwell's last words, trying to feel some sort of hope. Could he ever recover from this? It seemed unlikely, but he decided that his teacher knew about it more than he did. Choking back sobs, he bit his bottom lip as he forced himself to stop crying, feeling like he had just made a fool of himself.
 
Vincent guessed that the only thing that would be good for him would be to let him cry it out- that's what Vincent did, when he lost his first love. It was only necessary. In time, he would get over him. It was easier said than done, of course. Vincent patted his back, and smiled at him. " It'll be okay. " With that, he got up, and walked over towards the hotel phone. " Do you want anything to eat? If you do, you can just pull anything from the mini-bar. I don't have to eat anything, so you can pig out. "

He dialed the front desk, and then spoke. " Yeah, two medium pizzas. One with green peppers, pepperoni, pineapple and sausage, the other one with... " Vincent turned towards Corey, " What do you want on the pizza? " He asked, pulling the phone away from his mouth slightly.
 
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