“Ok, fair enough. but five minutes is hardly worth it for me,” he commented, in a candid yet cordial tone. He’d been trying to solve the riddle of where to go to find a classy, impressionable gift at the last minute in a small ass town (not that he didn’t understand the appeal of small towns. Shit, the air even smelled better. Plus people were kinder, for the most part.)
The gallery had come up on his radar on a tireless search of the net. He was desperate to say the least.
“I’m confident I can make staying open worth it for you though. You own the place or just work here?” He asked, a last ditch effort as he scoped out the pieces through the window.
-
Confident I can make it worth it... Nathan’s brow quirked at that and his dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his boot and scraping it off the curb into the gutter. “I own it,” he started, “ ‘S not my art though.” Nathan gestured to a small info card under a piece in the window display, denoting the young artist name and home town of Indianapolis. “I travel a lot, like to bring something different to this town. Got any ideas what you’re looking for? Or just waiting for something to catch your eye?” He stepped back, waved a welcoming hand into the building, and followed after the other as he crossed the threshold into the gallery.
Sofia wasn’t sure what she was doing wandering the streets as the sun started to set but she was tired of being cooped up in her apartment and she didn’t start her shift at the diner for another hour so she was exploring a little more than she usually did. Starting over was harder than she thought it would be and the fear of what might be lurking in Heartsdale was enough most of the time to keep her to a strict schedule. But she was trying. Hudson had promised to help keep her secrets safe and make sure nothing happened to her so she was trying. A voice brought her out of her thoughts as she looked into the little gallery through the windows. “Oh, I was just…” She shook her head and turned dark eyes on the man sitting outside. “Is it your place? All that art in there?”
-
He glanced over his shoulder into his gallery, as if he had to double check if any of the art was his. “Nah,” he replied, still gazing into the interior of the building, “Right now I’m featuring a kid from Indiana.” The cigarette bounced in his hand as he gestured to the inside, ashes falling languidly as he flicked it with the nail of his thumb. It’d been a long time since he displayed his own art, finding some weird comfort in separating the two parts of his life - artist, an intimate, quiet affair with canvas or clay, and gallery owner, charismatic, affable, open. “Y’wanna take a look?”
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧 dips further beneath the horizon with each passing step, his languid strides growing more purposeful as the gallery’s awning comes into view. the broader the distance grew between august and his own place of work, the more he found himself shedding his practiced placidity ( people, he’d learned, generally preferred a calmer bedside manner from the person taking a needle to your skin ) for the restless energy he’d spent the better part of a day cultivating — mostly through iced coffee and red bull. squinting the glare from his eyes, a bright grin tugs at his features at the sight of nate camped out up front. “ just five minutes ? damn. so much for the heist i had in mind — my fence is gonna be so bummed. ” a joke, of course, but his words catch the attention of two old ladies, both of whom clutch their massive handbags a little tighter as they cross the street. he had a feeling the duo was at least partially responsible for nathan lighting that cigarette. “ thoughts on locking up early ? i hear there’s karaoke at the nickelback tonight — bad dolly parton covers and all you can drink tequila shots. ”
.
He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Nathan was thankful for the familiar face, especially after the day he just had. Even before those ladies had come in and lectured him for 3 hours on the importance of protecting the craft - bitch, he went to college & it was much more recent than you. He sighed, took another drag from his cigarette and let the tension release from his shoulders; there was no reason to still be upset. “You had me at locking up early.” As if those weren’t the first words out of his friend’s mouth. Fluidly, Nathan reached his hand into the inside wall of his gallery and flicked off all the lights, pulled the door shut, and twisted a key in the lock. “Tequila... “ He laughed, shook his hair off his face. “Y’know I don’t fuck with tequila anymore, man.” Though, despite his best protest, they both knew Nate would knock back at least 4 tequila shots that evening.
Kit was waling back to her car after a great meal with a friend at the Juniper Cafe when she paused in front of the local gallery. She had passed it’s window many times and always made sure to peek in. Upon the sound of a voice her attention turned to a man smoking a cigarette. She hated the smell, and hated that it also made her want one too.
“Are you the artist featured tonight?” Kit glanced into the gallery. She had been there a couple of times and thought she recognized the man speaking to her, though that was was typical of a smaller town like this. Her eyes followed his cigarette up to his lips, she smoked the last of her pack a few days ago and has been too busy to drop by the gas station and grab another one. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one of those, would you?” She asked.
-
“Not so much,” Nathan shrugged, taking a peek inside his gallery as though he didn’t know every piece that was hanging on his walls - he was sure he knew those canvases better than he knew his own body. “I do own the place, though.” He continued, sure that he’d lost at least some portion of her attention.
Her eyes had been following his hand, drawn in by the glowing tip of the cigarette. Nathan recognized the look and was already pulling his pack before tucking back in his jacket and replacing it with a lighter. His thumb flicked and the fire burned bright against the coolness of the setting sun. Nathan held the flame out, allowing her to light the cigarette before tucking that away in his pocket again. “Tryin’ quit or just in between packs?” He questioned with a chuckle, trying to gauge this woman.
James let out a laugh at his old friend’s expression, he had very little filter and most people who knew James knew that about him. “I know, I know, been relying on the cute my whole life,” he joked along with him. “You know me, the bad jokes just pop into my head and I say them out loud. Like I do with most things really.” He laughed. “I’d like to say I have some better jokes, but that would be a lie.”
-
Nathan chuckled and swigged down his drink - the glass made a satisfying thunk as it met the wood of the table. “Not a lie,” he retorted, “I’ve definitely heard better.” The man thought back to their time in England, when they were growing up. He was a bit too young at the time to have specific memories of their time together as kids, but he did remember running, laughing, truly being a kid. He missed that kind of carelessness.. “I’m not sure how, but you were funnier when we were kids.” From anyone else, that may have sounded like an insult but from Nathan, and he was sure James knew it, it was in a most complimentary manner.
“Just five minutes?” Yasemin’s brows rose on her face, giving a mixed look of surprise and wistfulness.
Having only been in town a few days now, she had been splitting her time between her sister’s couches and was working double time to find a rental to move into so she didn’t cramp either of their style. Thankfully, Halime was a realtor and that helped when it came to options and access, but money was also the issue. Her savings was good but how long could she survive jobless?
“I don’t know if that’s going to be enough time for me to find something good for the walls of my new place…” Whenever she should get it in the coming week or two.
The best thing since leaving Paris behind was that everything was so much cheaper in Heartsdale, so there was comfort that her money could go a little further. Though, someone would argue, her parents most likely, that spending on art might not be the wisest choice when it came to tight budgeting and finances.
“I mean, I could come back. What are your hours usually?”
-
“Well, if you’re buying -” Nathan jumped up from his perch, or rather lean, against the tall window and held out his hand to her, a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips as they shook. After those old ladies, he wasn’t sure he could remember the elated feeling of selling a piece, of calling an artist and giving them the good news. Maybe she could change that.
“I’m Nathan, owner.” He smiled and ashed his cigarette, holding it as far away from the pair as possible. When he took a drag, Nathan made a point to blow it to the side, away from her - his mom had long ago taught him common decencies like that and despite a rather rocky relationship with the woman, he was thankful she’d taken the time to make sure he wouldn’t be a total asshole. “Usually open ‘til seven on weekdays but if you’re serious about buying, I s’pose I can stay open.” The cigarette was dropped and crushed under his boot, kicked into the street - he wanted to keep his storefront clean and welcoming, but didn’t give enough of a shit about the planet to pick up the butt ... Priorities. “C’mon in.”
Colt was working on buying a house. The furniture and art and really everything from the house he shared with Aly during his marriage had been ceremoniously sold or donated. Each thing he sold he sent half of the check to Aly’s lawyer to give to her. It really wasn’t part of the legal agreement but both of their money had been spent on the furniture and he… well, he wanted to make sure she was fine. Colt had long since given up trying to apply reason to his thoughts. He was the one who fucked up, but it didn’t mean the rest of the feelings went away. At the artist’s words, Colt gave him a grin. “Mrs. Danes and Mrs. Calloway really gave you hell, huh?” He knew the two. They came into his practice a week after he opened it to talk is ear off. And likely gather information on why he was back in town. “Careful with those two, they’re head of the town grapevine. Solid vignerons, those two.”
.
Nate gave the man an apprehensive look - he usually didn’t trust people whose first instinct was to talk shit, but ... “Three hours, man. Three hours they set up camp and scared off anyone else who walked through the doors with their -” air quotes “- critiques.” Indulgence, he thought to himself, is one of the small pleasures of life. Let them talk shit! He raised a curved hand against his brow, daring another glance into the sinking sun, at the pair down the street. Back at UCLA, when he was studying for his art history, Nathan had promised himself that he would never judge someone’s interpretation of a piece, everyone was looking at it through different life experiences, through a different lens, but he’d made an exception for those two ladies. “So I probably shouldn’t have told them off for being ignorant and uncultured?” He shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette, breaking into a smile. “Maybe not in so many words but -- well, I can spare the business of those two.” A chuckle, another wave of his hand as he gestured along the shop-filled road. “You own anything along here?”
// open. at nathan’s art gallery, outside its front windows.
The rock that lived just outside the gallery’s front door was nudged into place, keeping the swinging door open while Nathan stepped outside. He tucked a cigarette between his lips and pulled the flame against its tip with a deep inhale. The man had a long day - a couple of ladies had decided to set up shop in his gallery for 3 hours & they’d only just left. The pair had hounded him about every piece and while Nathan usually loved the excuse to chat up about the art on his walls, they were just ... rude. He sighed out the smoke, sitting against the ledge of the tall windowsill & watching the rest of the town go by. The man spotted the pair of old ladies, meandering down the street, probably off to bother another poor shop owner before dinner. His eyes shifted, away from the sharp glare of the sinking sun and towards a figure pausing in front of his windows. “If you’re planning on going in, you’ve got about 5 minutes - “ Nathan waved the hand holding his cigarette as a vague gesture, “ - before I close up.” He took another drag, grinned, shrugged.
“Here, here, I’ve got one for you. Okay,” he pretended to clear his throat as he prepared to tell his joke. “My girlfriend asked me to stop singing ‘Wonderwall’ to her.” He paused. “I said maybe…” the male grinned, hitting his hands against the table.
With an eyebrow shot high on his forehead, Nathan resisted the urge to laugh. He loved the guy, he really did - they’d been friends for longer than Nate could remember and were lucky enough to have reconnected in this tiny town -- but that was so terrible, it was almost funny. James was one of the reasons he decided to come back to Heartsdale after he finished his van trip. Clapping a hand on James’ shoulder, Nate shook his head and gave a chuckle. “Lucky you’re cute, mate,” he grinned. He’s been in the States half his life, but ... old habits die hard, mate. “What other jokes y’got?”
Leaving the movies with popcorn and a flat soda in hand, Vivienne didn’t have time to scold herself for putting off unpacking another day when she caught the sight of a small dog in the road. Aimless, lost and in more danger than she could stomach. Nearly stumbling out of her boots to reach the small thing, Vivienne scooped it up into her arms and ambled clumsily back onto the sidewalk. She spoke to the dog while petting it gently behind the ears. “This wasn’t a part of my plan.” She said more to herself than anyone else. A distraction, another thing to keep her from where she was supposed to be, albeit a cute, sweet fury thing. Stopping the next person to pass her by Vivienne looked to them with hopeful eyes, “Do you happen to know if anyone around town has lost a dog?” Nodding to the furry thing in her arms. “It’s got no collar- and seemingly no sense of self preservation.” Vivienne nodded to the traffic in the road. “Was almost sad day.”
Engrossed in his phone, Nathan pushed the door of his gallery closed as he stepped out. The pocket of his pants fell heavy with the weight of his keys after he locked the door behind himself and tucked a cigarette between his lips, lighting it before beginning down the street. He shouldn’t be closing up this early, he knew that, but Nathan just wasn’t feeling very ... inspired? Artsy? He’d spent the whole afternoon critiquing the pieces hanging on his walls, wondering if the artist from Oklahoma, whose work was currently being shred to bits in Nathan’s mind, truly was ‘the next big thing’ or if he’d done one too many shots with her at that dive bar. He thought back to his time in Oklahoma, one of many trips he’d taken and tried to look at the work hanging with a revitalized mind, reminiscent of the mindset he was in on that trip. Nathan’s brow had furrowed. He had sighed. He had, eventually, given up - looking at a word for too long makes it seem like a jumble of shapes thrown together, Nathan supposed the principle held true for art too. It was only when he caught a figure out of the corner of his eye, practically diving in the street for a small something in the middle of the road, did Nathan look up from his phone, sighing. Well, he thought, at least this gives me something to do. He stepped forward and did a once over of both the girl and the animal - she seemed okay, but the dog had probably seen better days. It wasn’t injured but seemed terrified and covered in dirt. Nate was thankful this woman had picked it up - he didn’t want to get this shirt dirty. “I don’t know,” he replied quickly, ashing his cigarette to the side of them, “But I’m sure we could figure it out.” The man stepped forward, looking for any sign of identification but the dog only had on a collar, no tags. “Definitely looks like he has an owner,” Nate frowned and craned his head. “We could see if someone, uh, posted signs on the light posts or something? Or take ‘im to a vet? Animal shelter, maybe?”
hey all!! my name is mads and i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in mst! i’m so excited for y’all to meet nathan - he’s a char i’ve had in mind for a while and i’m stoked to finally bring him to life! i’ve included some main points about him under the cut, along with his bio and a couple extras for him - please message me if you’d like to plot :D
Nathan comes from a single-mother household... at least, until he was in high school.
Nate knows who his father is and is trying to build a relationship w/ the man but is still hurt from his mother hiding his father’s identity & not hiding the truth.
He is very much a ‘trust-fund’ kid but is working hard to distant himself from his parents’ wealth and build a name that isn’t connected to his parents.
Nathan truly is a sweetheart but has a hard time expressing this to those he cares about - he grew up in a home that wasn’t welcoming to affection and is still trying to break this habit.
He’s been in Heartsdale for several years and I’m so open to creating some pre-existing connections with him! Friends, ex friends, exes, enemies - anything! Please just message me so we can chat :)
He graduated from UCLA with an art history degree but is more interested in actually making art than learning about it - he travels a lot as he likes to make his show room diverse and brings in pieces from all around the country.
Nathan lives above his gallery but spends most of his time outside of both his gallery and his apartment - it’s either a midlife crisis and he regrets his choices or he’s just trying to meet new friends, who knows?
His pinterest is here and is constantly being update; please follow me if you feel so inclined!
Annnnnd: bio here as well:
Nate’s parents met while his father was on a school trip. A senior studying art history at Harvard, he’d taken the trip as an excuse to ‘see the world’ - if that world meant England, sure. His mother was the manager at a museum they visited on the trip & his father found himself returning to her canvas filled institute daily. They spent hours talking, sharing their love of paintings and critiquing some of the pieces her museum had chosen to display. Neither of them wanted to admit that their time together would be coming to a close - his trip was only for 3 weeks over the winter holidays - but on his last day in the country, Nathan’s father left a note within her bedside drawer, his address and phone number scrawled sloppily across a spare receipt & he snuck out before the sun was up. Saying goodbye would be too hard.
He returned to the States. He graduated. He got a job. He went years without hearing from the woman he’d met. One day, when his father was leaving The Met - he’d become a director of programs - his eye landed on a woman who looked so familiar, her hand clutched by a child, no older than 10. That moment was Nate’s first memory of his dad.
He remembers sitting in his dad’s house, a wide and bright space that was 20 minutes from where they’d met on those huge steps. This man had given them a ride and was now setting tea in front of his mother, but Nate was playing with his dog. He remembers snippets of the conversation - his mom was apologizing a lot. Apparently she hadn’t wanted to see him. They were in the States to visit her sister, Nate’s aunt. He remembers that this man kept looking between his mom and him & he looked so confused. Finally, he remembers a silence falling over the room and the man asked a question. Nate couldn’t make it out but his mother’s response was clear, definite; “Yes. He’s yours.”
At the time, Nate had no idea what that meant. He hadn’t yet been given the talk and his mother didn’t explain her relationship to this man. She introduced him - Nathan couldn’t remember his name - and said that he was an old friend from college. But soon, he found himself with this man more often. His mother invited him to join them at his aunt’s birthday party. When they flew back home to England, his mother would often be stuck on the phone with her old friend from college. One day, a year or so after their New York trip, his mother was picking him up from school, nervously pressing her thumb nail into the steering wheel. She asked if he remembered her friend from college, the one they’d seen while in New York. Nate did. She asked if he’d like to take another trip to New York to see his aunt, to see her old friend from college & maybe stay longer this time - like maybe the whole summer holidays?
They stayed the whole summer and when fall came around and it was time for Nathan and his mother to return home, he was sad - he was going to miss his aunt, he was going to miss the excitement of living Stateside. The rest of his year was almost a blur - his school year went by relatively painlessly, though he had begun to feel the hurt of being one of the only brown kids in school - and eventually spring had returned. His mom, again, sat him down and began asking questions. Eventually, and now Nate was smart enough to see where this was going from the start, she asked Nate how he would feel about moving to the States, about living with his aunt for a while. The move itself was quick and before he knew it, Nate and his mother settled in the States. He spent his days at school and his afternoons in extracurriculars - his new school had an art program that Nate was excelling in. They spent nights hanging out with his aunt or his mom’s college friend and for the first time in his young life, Nate felt comfortable. His mom’s friend had begun taking him to the museums, explaining the complexities of the canvas hanging on the walls and asking for his opinion on the work.
When Nate was about halfway through his junior year of high school, his mother and her college friend were both in the car when he was picked up from school. It wasn’t entirely all that weird - he wasn’t dumb enough to think that they weren’t dating, but Nate did always wonder why his mother never broached the subject with him. It’s not like he was a little kid anymore, for fuck’s sake - if your kid is old enough to date, they’re old enough to know who you’re dating. Nate probably couldn’t tell you the rest of what happened that day. He remembered getting home and grabbing a snack, as he always does, and he remembered getting told to sit down by his mother, that she had something important to tell him.
Nate’s life split into the before and the now - before Stephen was his father & now. While typically a rather well-mannered teenager, Nate was furious. Sure, his mom didn’t have to disclose her love life if she didn’t want to, but to know that Stephen was his That they’d known since the start and never told him? He thought back to their first visit to New York, when they ran into Stephen on the steps of the Met - he remembered his mom was surprised, thrown off her guard, but never uncomfortable, never not wanting to be around this man.
He slammed the door on his way out of the house, hopping on his bike and riding off. That night was the first night he ever acted out - Nate made it to his friend’s place out in the suburbs and snuck in their basement window. The rest of his friends, along with a couple girls he knew from his English Lit class, were circled around a small table, upon which sat a small tray & a bong. Nate welcomed the small act of rebellion, in the face of such shocking news, & spent his night testing his limits.
His parents, as he now so affectionately referred to them as, soon regretted telling Nate at such a volatile age. He soon spent all his evenings with his friends, sneaking into the house after midnight (if he’s early) and going straight up to his room. They tried not to push it and Nate was torn between appreciating being left alone and pissed that no one cared how he felt. His mom had tried to address it a couple times but Nate always shut down, refusing to give her more than a two word response.
It went on like that for 2 years, silence, short answers, tension. At 18, Nathan found himself going off to college, moving across the country to attend UCLA. He lived off his parents money, figuring the least they could do after years of absconding from the truth. And he lived lavishly - drinks on him every time his friends went to the bars, new clothes, new shoes, everything he could want.
He graduated with minimal rule infractions, an MIP here, possession of controlled substance there. But his parents always paid for a lawyer, flew out for the week and handled everything for him. After college, Nathan bounced around for a year, spent a couple months in LA, three in New York, and another 6 or so in a van his parents had financed, driving around the US.
Six months on the road proved to be exhausting, however, and Nathan found himself back in one of his first stops at the start of his trip, Heartsdale. It wasn’t long before he signed a lease on an apartment downtown and spent his days as a barista at Legal Grounds. He didn’t necessarily need the job - his parents still financed his whole life - but it was nice to have something to meet people in town. After a while, however, being a barista became boring. Nate spent his time admiring the local work they had pinned for sale on their walls, admiring the fine line work and critiquing in the way he’d spent four year training to do. On a walk, he found himself fantasizing about owning his own gallery, having his space to curate an experience. Nate’s eyes caught on every single ‘For Lease’ sign downtown, pausing and forcing himself not to take a peek inside. It wasn’t reasonable, he told himself. Irrational, at best. He had no experience managing anything, no experience building something from nothing.
And yet… he couldn’t help. One brisk morning, the sun was bright against a For Lease sign, practically screaming the numbers at him. His fingers were typing the numbers into his phone before he even realized what he was doing. It was 4:23am, the downside of an opening shift at a coffee shop, and he wasn’t expecting anyone to pick up anyway. “Morning, uh,” he paused - was he really doing this? “My name is Nate Arnoult and I’m interested in the space you’ve got on 1st and..”
Moving in was quick, it only took 6 months before Nathan settled in the space above the retail spot. He spent his first night with his friends, drinking and dancing. His friends, just as ecstatic as he, commended him - Nate had been hemming & hawing about opening a gallery space for months and to finally have a space, a place to start… Nathan was on cloud nine. And it went better than he thought it did. The art scene extended out of his small town and he was able to show pieces from all over Georgia. He even flew out to other states, offered small artists a space in his show room. The rest, he supposed, is history. He’s been living a comfortable life and still maintains contact with his parents, despite their rocky past - not friendly, but not fatal either.
nate arnoult. @natexarnoult - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
