"I didn't know you were into snobby white guys," remarked Sage as they clambered down the corridors back to the kitchen.

Solace shrugged coyly. "Apparently, I have dreadful taste in boys," she fired back. Miles was nothing but a work colleague, but she was thoroughly enjoying Sage's reaction. Whatever she was feeling after the kiss, after he had shown up on her doorsteps a month ago, was not something one felt for the person they allegedly hated.

His eyes narrowed at the disguised insult.

The journey to the kitchen was a short one, their pace rampant and desperate. It seemed neither of them could breathe until the painting was by their side and in the possession of Sage's boss.

Sage grabbed her wrist when the kitchen doors came into view. Flutters ran unbridled at his touch alongside bewilderment when he began to unclasp her gold bracelet. He did not bother to explain, merely pocketing her jewelry, and strutting past the doors with her hot on his trail.

The kitchen was large with industry-sized appliances and a large team of cooks with waiters walking in and out, platters laid with more drinks or used dishes. She caught a few curious looks, her appearance sticking out amid the white coats and aprons.

"Ms. Laurent lost her bracelet," explained Sage, already beginning his search for the pile of carts to find the one with her lipstick stain. "She believes it fell on the carts."

Solace nodded, unwilling to admit that he was very good at this job of lying and deceiving. She followed his example and started her search for their designated cart. The first few were stained with champagne and wine, but she would peek under the cart for good measure. One could never be too careful. The fourth was pearly white, plates with leftover crumbs and dirty tissues.

"Over here," hissed Sage, waving at her to come. Solace quickly walked towards him, catching her pink tinge of makeup on the cloth. The two bent down, relieved smiles mirroring each other. Sage held one side, and she did the same, and together they lifted the white drape.

It was empty.

"No, no, no," whispered Sage, patting the underside of the cart, as if the painting had somehow gone invisible. "Where is it?" The hopeless anger in his tone was hard to miss.

Solace's heart sank. They had only left it alone for twenty minutes. What could have happened within that short time frame? Sage was beginning to lose touch with reality from the way he muttered under his breath, his chest heaving at an intensifying speed. It was her responsibility to lead him out before he got tangled in the webs that were his mind.

"Let's find that waiter," she said, pulling him to his feet. Sage met her eyes, some of the panic easing away at her quick resourceful thinking. "Angelo was his name. He had the cart last. He should know what happened."

"Yeah, okay," he murmured. "Good idea."

"Take a few breaths, and I'll be right back." Solace reluctantly left him, catching the attention of the first waitress that entered her line of vision. "Excuse me, do you know where Angelo is?"

The woman's forehead wrinkled in deep thought. "The boy with the acne?" she asked.

"Yes, him," she almost shouted.

"He's outside throwing away the garbage. It's just through those doors," replied the waitress, pointing at the service doors at the furthest part of the room beside the freezers.

It seemed the waitress was about to ask her a follow-up question, but Solace stole her chance as she sped-walked to Sage. "He's out back," she said.

No time was wasted as Sage pushed open the doors with an unnecessary amount of ferocity. The chill nipped at her skin, freshly fallen snow shimmering. It was beginning to numb her exposed feet. Solace crossed her arms, sliding her arms up and down on each other to give her a semblance of warmth. She just realized how loud it was inside when the noise of the bustling indoors became faint like swimming underwater.

By the large dumpsters was Angelo tossing garbage bags, murmuring under his breath about how much he hated the rich. That made the two of them.

"Hey," Sage called out. There was nothing friendly about his greeting. "Angelo, right?"

Angelo turned, halting his job of unloading the filled trash bags. "That's me."

"You took my cart back in the hallway. It had something of mine," Sage said carefully, as if he was restraining from throttling the boy.

Angelo scratched the side of his head, confounded. Sage made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"It was a red tube," Solace chimed in. She held her hands roughly eighteen inches apart. "It was about this big."

His eyes widened in realization. "Oh, that red tube," he drawled. "The one with S.E.L. written on top."

"Yes, that one!" exclaimed Sage. "Where is it?"

"I threw it in the garbage."

Sage rubbed his eyes with the ball of his palms, almost brutally. "You did what?" he hissed.

Solace stumbled to the dumpster, the cold long forgotten. It was empty albeit with two large bags. Just as she reached for them to start searching through piles of garbage, Angelo interjected.

"Don't bother. Someone came to take the garbage about ten minutes ago."

"This can't be happening," she muttered, shaking her head. How could so much be going wrong? It was as if the year was hellbent on ruining her life until the last final minute.

Sage moved forward, fists curled. "I'm going to rip off his head," he threatened.

She was just as mad as him, but physical violence would get them nowhere. "He didn't know any better. Be nice."

"Fine. I'm going to rip off his head off. Politely. How's that?" Sage asked wryly.

Solace leaned closer to Angelo, who gulped nervously. "I would leave if I were you," she instructed.

Angelo nodded vigorously, scurrying to the door like a scared kitchen mouse. Before he left, she called his name. "What kind of government job collects garbage at this hour on a holiday?" she wondered curiously.

He glanced at a fuming Sage but answered quickly. "Moore hired a private management company. Fast Waste Disposal."

Solace nodded, the frightened waiter heading back inside and leaving the two alone in the cold dark. Sage leaned his forehead against the brick walls, taking deep shuddering breaths that failed to ebb the rapid movement of his chest.

"Did we just lose a 100-dollar million painting?" Sage asked in disbelief. He peered up at the starless sky, chuckling bitterly. It died down into gasping gulps for air when the gravity of the situation latched on.

"Sage," she said cautiously, placing a hand on his back. "Breathe."

He shook his head, unable to pay attention. Sage inhaled a quivering breath. "My inhaler," he breathed out. "I forgot it at home."

Solace knew it was not right of her to smile, but she could not smother it when he called the apartment home. She shook her head, reminding herself that Sage was on the brink of another panic attack. She searched through her clutch and held out her hand. "Here," she urged. Sage garbed the inhaler and breathed in deeply. "I saw it lying in the couch cushions. I brought it with me in case."

Sage was beginning to calm down, slumping back against the wall. "Were you counting on me having a panic attack?" he remarked. He exhaled shakily, the frigid air misting his breath like smoke.

She shrugged. "You don't have the best track record," mused Solace.

"I'm lucky I have you, then," said Sage, the hush of the night cloaking his words in intimacy. He cleared his throat, holding up his watch. "We have less than three hours before midnight. What's our next move?"

Solace grimaced. "I have an idea, and trust me, neither of us are going to enjoy it."

***

Author's Note:

An early update because why not?

I only have the epilogue to write, but I wanted your opinion! Would you rather prefer an epilogue a few months into the future? Or an epilogue one/two weeks into the future in Sage's POV?

Let me know!

Until next time - m.k.t