A/N: Pretty self explanatory.

Disclaimer: Oscar Wilde owns the Picture of Dorian Gray.

In Basil's studio.

"Ah, so this wonderful pretty boy you've been painting is called Dorian Gray! Basil, this is extraordinary! I really must meet him, him with his soft sensual lips and body like Adonis." Lord Henry exclaimed delightfully.

Hallward got up from his seat, and walked up and down the garden.
After some time he came back.

"Harry," he said, "Dorian Gray is to me a potential lover who's friendzoned me in the worst possible way – whoops did that slip out? I mean he is simply a motive in art. You might see nothing in him."

"I want to see him." Lord Henry pouted, being the spoiled, manipulative, cynical brat he was. "Blah blah blah let me demonstrate my vast knowledge and immense worldliness in a way that will confuse both you and the reader so none of us will have any idea as to what the heck is going on. Sometimes I will feel the need to capitalize Genius and Beauty since I'm a superficial bastard that likes to use people's innocence as a clean slate to smear my gross, crusty worldviews on. Oh yeah and let me just squash any hopes you have left of being able to establish a healthy relationship with Dorian because what you have told me is quite a romance, a romance of art one might call it, and the worst of having a romance of any kind is that it leaves one so unromantic."

"Shut the fuck up Harry you're a bitch. You don't know anything about these Dorian Gray feels I have! You don't know me! #Icanteven" cried Hallward.

"Ah, my dear Basil, even though I probably don't understand the complex emotions you're going through right now, let me impose some more epigrams on you! Fidelity's overrated, only those who cheat can experience the tragedy of love!" Lord Henry proceeded to smoke a cigarette (diminishing his lifespan by five minutes) self confidently.

Suddenly, a wild butler appears.

" Gray is in the studio, sir." he said, coming into the garden, oblivious to the fact he was potentially ruining the boy's life by alerting Lord Henry to his presence.

"Basil, you must introduce me now," cried Lord Henry, laughing.

The painter turned to his servant, who stood blinking in the sunlight.
"Ask to wait, Parker: I shall be in in a few minutes."
The man bowed, and went up the walk.

Then he looked at Lord Henry. "Get your ass out of my garden."

"But I – "

"No get the fuck out. No matter how witty you may be, none of the readers understand you so it doesn't make a difference anyways. Fuck off."

And so Lord Henry left the garden, and Basil and Dorian lived happily ever after.

-Fin-