Art blocked

Astrid's mother had always liked art, dragging her to art openings since she was born, so when she felt homesick she usually went out to look at different studios. Her parents had money, lots of it, but she rarely used them. Sometimes she just wanted to be a normal girl, having grown up in the suburbs of some small town, yet here she were. Astrid Summers, the only daughter of Benjamin and Amelia Summers. Her parents traveled a lot, her father having a license to sell houses in California and her mother designing clothes in France. "Miss Summers, so good to see you - how is your darling mother?" one of the event holders asked. Astrid smiled, acting polite. "She is doing well, I'm wearing one of her latest pieces," she replied. The event holder smiled, admiring the outfit before Astrid excused herself. She could feel the tingle in her fingers, letting her know she needed a break from it all, stepping out on the balcony. The stranger stood there, tall and with a lit cigarette between his lips. She felt like she had seen him before, maybe at other exhibitions? "Good evening," she greeted calmly, rubbing her hands together as if to catch some warmth in them, but it was more to calm her nerves.

Watching the cars pass by with people walking while they were going about with their daily life. It made him wonder how he would have been, hadnt he been so obsessed with his work that he could walk among them. His mind wandered off in a thought of how he would have been - Only to disappear as he frowned a little. Like he would ever dream for a mundane boring life like those on the streets. He turned with the cigarette on his lips, lifting his bluegreen eyes to see hers. His eyes widened slightly as he took a drag off his cigarette, an automated yet charming smile sliding over his lips. He knew his looks and charms were nothing but an advantage, a perfect disguise to hide all the ugly that laid underneath. "You must be the prettiest of all that I've seen today," he said, not lying at all as it was what he thought. He exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning a little back on the railing as he looked at her outfit, "Are you cold?" he asked as he eyed her hands, meeting her blues again, wondering how he could find her so beautiful.

He didn't even greet her. Or well he did, but he was more complementing her appearance more than anything. She chuckled a bit, shrugging as she looked out at the busy streets. Even for an evening like this, the town of Gaia was ever busy. Buses driving around, picking up people heading out to party or some maybe just going home after work. Taxi's honking at people walking across the street to reach their friends on the other side. Her lips curled up in to a smile as he asked if she was cold. "Not really," she said, exhaling in a sigh as she looked over at the stranger. Had she ever seen such a handsome face before? His features looked like it had been carved in marble, his eyes piecing through standing her on the dim lit balcony. "I just need to breath every once in a while - It's been some time since I've been to an exhibition this large," she chuckled. She wasn't nervous, it was more of a control thing. The needing to check if she was in control. She shook her head, holding out her hand as a polite gesture. "I'm Astrid," she said in a greeting.

Being so close to her was already making the adrenaline stream through his body, making him feel his breath tremble so faintly it couldnt be noticed - But it was felt so strongly either way. It had been one thing to catch glimpses and keep to his mind, but here he could stand and watch her skin as fine as porcelain, the eyes blue like an ocean he wanted to be lost in. But where was the boundary for his mind? It couldnt ever compare to seeing her in real life. He chuckled at her words, glancing out on the pedestrians, feeling the urge to reach out and touch. He looked back at her, his eyes slowly moving around her face as she spoke to rest on her lips. He narrowed his eyes a little in his mesmerization before he made a small smile, "Not a people person?", he was curious to know what kind of person that laid in the beautiful exterior. When she gestured her hand for a shake, he looked down at it, pressing his lips softly together as he looked up at her, "Éloi Zacharie. But call me Zach, please" he said, to then frown a little in an apologetic expression at her hand, "I beg your pardon, touching makes me uncomfortable," he lied but he knew what would happen if he touched her. He looked back out at the people. "Do you know how much you stand out when you're wearing all white with such grace?" he asked, eyeing the street as he took another drag of his cigarette, this time slow.

A small chuckle left her lips, filling the gap between them as she shook her head. "I love being around people, it's more of a palate cleanse for the art - Going outside once in a while reminds you of what the world really looks like," she said with a smile. His french accent sounded so alluring, like she wanted him to whisper sweet nothing in her ear, even if she couldn't understand it. As he said he wasn't much for touching, she didn't take offense. It was actually more normal in circles like these, that people preferred not touching each other, not even in a greeting. "Noted," she said, making sure the distance was between them, so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable any more. He seemed like the quiet type, and she wondered if she had walked in on some time he had needed for himself. His question made her scoff. "I guess I get a little desensitized to it; I've been dressing quite formally since childhood, so I guess seeing me in my pajamas would be more out of the ordinary," she chuckled, looking out at the street as well. The wind was mild this evening, and she thought she might just walk the way home. It wasn't too far, and she could walk for miles in high heels - her mother had made sure of that. "My mother designed it having me in mind, making it white to show purity, I think," she chuckled, feeling it was a little silly to talk about with a stranger, but maybe it was what she needed.

Her reply made him nod a few times as he felt it seemed like a fair point, letting out a soft yet charming chuckle as he thought about her wearing a pajamas - And how most people in there probably would have deemed it as the newest fashion to wear for themselves the next time they set foot in public.
He scoffed at her words, making a small shrug with his shoulders, "Does your mother often assume how you dictate your life?" he asked as he blew out the smoke, watching the strings of grey slowly disappear in the mild wind above. He couldnt possibly believe that she was all pure, there was no such thing for him. Not with what he had done or what he had seen in other people. He turned his head back, looking at the people inside, before he looked back at her. The feeling crawled back with the need to reach out, it made him frown as he took the last drag of his cigarette, though the smoke didnt stay for long in him as he pushed himself up to a straightened posture. She was danger, with the unknown feeling she made him feel. He had felt obsession before, but not like this, this felt like weakness. He turned his eyes back to her, wanting her to leave and stay at the same time. "Tell me, Astrid. What does your name mean?" he asked as he tilted his head a little to the side. He knew, from the endless studies he had endured, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Astrid could've sworn she could listen to that sweet chuckle on repeat without getting tired of it. What was it about him that drew her in? She considered shortly that it could be a spell, but she couldn't sense any magic in him. No he wasn't a witch or fairy, he was something different. But different how? Chuckling a bit at his question she shrugged. "I guess she likes to think of me as an innocent little girl," she admitted, smiling to herself. Her parents had always been busy with their work to really keep an eye on her, so she had had her fair share of experiences. "But the thought is nice; that she still sees me as something yet to be tainted by the world," she said, her eyes looking at him now. He was hard to read, but she felt a pull towards him. Something she couldn't explain.Unlike most witches, Astrid didn't have a name written on her collarbone, so she knew it couldn't be something along those lines. She watched him as he asked his question, sensing something that ran deeper than just asking her what her name meant. "Beloved god," she replied, looking in to his eyes as she felt as though gravity was trying to pull them together. However she stood her ground, being mindful of his wish not to touch. What would he use that information to, if anything at all? "Do you usually ask strangers for their name meaning?" she asked, trying to be casual, but she couldn't keep her eyes away from his blue-green ones.

“Cant blame her. I would want to think that too when I look at you,” he said, smiling softly. His mind was still telling him to reach out, feel if that soft skin was as smooth and perfect as he thought it would be - Though he knew he would be right and one confirming touch would only fuel his obsession from an already uncontrollable fire to a full blown blaze that would destroy him eventually, he was certain. His question like most his words had some hidden scheme behind it, to lure her in for long enough for him to surpass his determination on staying away from her. He looked at her mouth as she answered, feeling goosebumps spread on his arms as she spoke her words - But thankfully his long sleeves wouldnt give him away. Her question forced a chuckle out of him, soft and charming again as he looked away for a bit like he didnt want to say the wrong thing and at the same time, it was like he couldnt hide his own excitement. He looked back at her as he stepped a little closer, with something longing yet also withholding at the same time. He stopped when he was rather close to her, he could smell her scent and how he felt so drawn to that as well, his mind was going crazy. He swallowed hard and his lips seperated ever so slightly as he looked at her. “I sometimes do, if I believe it’s important to point out...” he finally answered. “Some people think that Astrid is beloved god, while others claim it to be divinely beauiful, but who can be right in the meaning of an old name of norse origin?” he said in a softspoken tone like it was some big secret and either way he carried this charm in the way he spoke to her. His eyes grazed her lips again, his mind begging him to explore the unknown that was embodied as her and her perfection in his eyes. “My point being... you are definitely divinely beautiful, Astrid” he added seductively in a rasp tone after a long pause, feeling his breath halter slightly. God he was in both agony and bliss, but he was also in such a conflict within. “Do you want to go inside?” he asked calmly as he shifted between her eyes, wondering how long he could fight it.

Astrid could feel the hairs on her neck stand up as he moved closer, she felt the need to hold her breath for a second. She felt terrified, yet oddly calm at the same time. He was tall and handsome, but she could feel like something was hiding under the surface. However hearing him speak in such tones just made her heart beat faster and she couldn't stop looking from his lips to his eyes and back again. Why was she almost praying that he would reach out and touch her, though she had a feeling it would leave her burning? His words were taken out of this world, spoken in such a lovely tone that just seemed to enhance the attraction she felt for him right now. Her lips separated, breathing out in awe at the way he seemed to keep her attention like this. His words seemed so sincere, like he had never laid eyes on anything more magnificent than her. But she couldn't believe that. She couldn't accept that he saw that in her. Astrid looked down, feeling out of breath even though she had done nothing but just standing and watching him. Listening to his words just took her breath away. His question made her look up at him again, did he mean go inside and separate? Maybe that was for the best. She felt her lower lip tremble a bit as she tried finding her words. "I'll just need a few more minutes," she whispered. Why was she whispering? There was no secret to be told, no one even close enough for them to hear what she was saying. A guy poked his head out through the doors, looking at Zach at first but then his gaze went to Astrid. "There you are miss Summers, your piece is up for show now," the guy said holding his hand out for her to take it. She swallowed, feeling silly that she even had a painting here, but her father had encouraged her to put one of her pieces up for show. And when she refused her father had put one up anyways. Astrid looked to Zach, not knowing what to say before she followed the guy, however she did not take his hand. As always she held her head high, straightened her back as she walked up to the reveal. "And now a piece, generously gifted to us by miss Astrid Evelyn Summers," one of the exhibition holders said, gesturing to Astrid, making people clap. She smiled politely, nodding at the faces she could recognize. She was secretly looking for Zach, but she couldn't spot him. "Thank you - The piece has no title, but I hope it speaks for itself," she said letting a man remove the white fabric covering the sculpture. The sculpture was jagged, pointing in different directions, and Astrid stood still for a while looking at it. She had felt so frustrated the day she had made it, let the anger and hurt rush trough her fingers to make it. Her father had liked it, saying it looked like a tree with fire and ice at once, but she honestly didn't know what it was.

As she whispered he felt his hand twitch. He was going to lift it and break the barrier that kept him away from her. His heart sped up at the thought, already intoxicating his mind with how perfect she would feel. He wanted to cherish her, paint her portrait to enclose her beauty in a frame forever. Though he wouldnt ever do what he saw justice and he knew that and he also wouldnt like to open the world’s eyes for what he saw. He wanted her all to himself, in a way that was more obsessive than most, but wasnt that what happened to the prettiest birds? Caging them up so their beauty shined in singularity for only one person to see? “I...” she said as the interruption occurred, his expression turning cold as he turned his head to look at the guy. He held out his hand and Zach frowned a little as he thought this guy was going to steal her away. When she didnt take the guy’s hand, he smiled as he turned to look back at the streets below. He had to calm his heart before going inside.
He had heard har words as he raised his eyebrows in surprise, walking inside as he mostly kept in the back where he could hide in the midst of people. Everyone clapped and he did as well. Though he hadnt seen the piece yet. When people cleared out, he finally got to see it for himself and as he inspected it, his expression was more than serious. He didnt say anything or look around as he straightened his back and lifted his eyes once to meet with hers. Not even a smile was on his face as he turned to walk away from it, throwing one last look that beckoned her to follow. He walked to the more deserted part of the studio as he stopped at sole old painting that had won a prize this year. He looked at them in silence as he waited to see if she would follow.

As people had had their turn looking she noticed him stepping closer. Why did she have the urge to make the sculpture disappear? Maybe flinging it across the room just to get rid of it? It was clear he was judging it, but the lack of emotion on his face made her wonder what he was really thinking. She swallowed as he looked at her, his eyes telling her to follow him. Was he going to mock her work? She watched him go, but several people blocked her way to him. She had to excuse herself, watching him from afar before moving closer. Next to him she felt almost short, but she kept her blue eyes on the painting in front of them. She would lie if she said she didn't like it. Astrid was at a loss for words. Why had she followed him so easily? Perhaps it was her curious nature, her childish side that wanted to figure out who this mysterious Zach was. "I don't usually show off my pieces, most of them remain unfinished," she said, breaking the silence between them as she looked at the painting. She felt her heart beat faster, but she wasn't embarrassed about her art. She more felt like it wasn't made to be shown off. It was an outlet for her, to make her feel in control. When everything around her was often decided for her, it was nice to have something that she herself could form and create. At first her father had been against her making things with clay or anything of that sort, but when he had seen the sculptures she would make from paper and scrap metal, he couldn't ignore her need for an outlet. Her mother designed clothes, her father sold beautifully decorated houses; and her, she made strange sculptures that were often hidden away once she got bored of them. "Are you going to tell your honest opinion, or are you going to lie?" she asked calmly, but her insides were going crazy. This was exactly why she didn't want to show her pieces in the first place. The judgement of something she had created. She didn't care what people wrote about her in gossip magazines or what photos the paparazzi could take of her in bad positions. No, what she cared about was how her creation was perceived.

He looked at the painting in front of him with the same neutral expression as he had had when he looked at her sculpture. He felt relieved to notice her appear in the corner of his eye but he decided to play it off cool like he wouldnt have cared whatever she chose to do. Her words forced a involuntary smile on his lips as he kept looking at the painting, "The process is as important as the outcome," he cited from one his parents but it was clear that he didnt even believe those words. It wasnt certain what he was actually thinking about her work from his expression, but it never really was for anything he saw. He had looked at the sculpture that he hated so much like it was as interesting as the rest of the exhibitions, but he had voiced how he truly felt of it when he had been asked for his opinion.
He turned his head to her as she asked for his opinion, shifting between her beautiful eyes as he made a small shrug, "I have no idea what it's supposed to be," he admitted as he turned to her, tilting his head a little. He stepped a little closer as he didnt move his eyes from hers, his face still so expressionless but his eyes had this chaotic spark behind them. He lifted a hand as he carefully moved it up to her face without touching her, moving them along the curve of her cheek without touching her skin but still so close, "I see a lot of myself in you, in your work," he said, feeling his breath go a little heavy from being so close, his mouth remaining slightly open. He removed his hand as he closed his mouth, swallowing hard. "What were you feeling in the moment your hands gave life to your work?" he asked, both curiously and a subtly yearning in the need to know.

She chuckled a bit at his words, because of course he couldn't see what it was supposed to be. Not even she knew what it was, it was just something she had made from an emotion and a spur of the moment. Turning towards him as he looked at her, she felt like his eyes could see right through her, see her deepest secrets and her greatest fears. Holding her breath as his hand moved so close to her, yet never touching her. She was trying not to move, but his fingertips felt like they pulled at her, like he was a large magnet, and she but a metal bending to his will. His words made her exhale, her blue eyes looking into his mixture of blue and green. It looked like a forest with lakes, at least as she stood here. It was like the world disappeared, like the many people around them were mere illusions, and reality was just the two of them. Finally, as he removed his hand she felt like she could breathe again, looking at him as he asked his question. Blinking a few times, her eyes portrayed so many emotions so very quickly, that she herself felt a little confused. Her fingers started to tingle, making her grit her teeth as she felt like she could implode. "Anger - Frustration - Despair," she heard herself whisper through her teeth. She was often described as being careful showing her emotions, but it was like he drew them out of her. "And ... Then emptiness," she said, looking in to his eyes. Was he trying to understand her or was he just curious as to how he could judge her piece without hurting her feelings. "Whenever I finish a piece, I feel empty, and I guess that's why I'm reluctant to finish what I start," she admitted, trying to breathe normally so people around them wouldn't notice how out of breath he made her.

He listened to her explanation in a whisper, a smile forming on his lips as he could feel how she hadnt had intentions of telling him, yet she was anyway. His mind was analyzing her face, her tone of voice and her words, narrowing his eyes slightly. He let her keep talking, as it seemed like it was something meaningful for her, so he wanted, or more like needed to know what it was. Her words were something he could relate to, his work was obscure and even to a point rather morbid with the way he executed any vision in his mind, even if it was something ungodly evil. He had to follow the vision or it would nag at his mind like a ghost that just wouldnt give up - And maybe that was the difference between her and him, she couldnt bear finishing her projects, while he had an obsessive need to. "It would only make sense by your beauty that you are an art-piece yourself. When art makes art, it gives a part of itself, and that's why you feel so empty," he said in a low tone, with an oddly care to his tone as he flashed a short smile. "In that sense, we're the opposite. I need my work to feel whole, to feel something, anything," he said, chuckling under his breath as he looked down shaking his head. "I would love to show you my work one day, if you'd let me," he said a little breathless as he kept looking down at her lips. Hadnt he felt so infatuated with her from her perfection, he would have ruined her, he wouldnt even have given it a care. But she was danger, with the feeling she forced into his system like a deadly yet addictive drug, he had to remind himself of that, thus why he wouldnt even dare to touch her.

He spoke like he could keep speaking about her for hours, like he knew her without truly knowing her. She nodded in agreement, but she couldn't help but feel a bit worried as he spoke of not feeling anything. Sometimes she wished she could cut off her brain, just move through a couple of hours without having to keep herself and her emotions under control. "Opposites attract, isn't that what they say?" she asked gently, smiling at him as he then suggested showing her his work. She felt taken aback, mostly because she didn't think she could ever let people that close. Never let them see all the emotions that rung from her fingertips when she was creating. "I would be honored if you let me see," she said, taken by surprise by his suggestion. Art was a mismatch of colors and emotions tossed into something visual. She looked at him, wondering what would happen if she reached out and touched him. Would he crumble to ash like an ancient broken statue, or would he be bursting in to flames? She wouldn't touch him without his permission of course. He had told her how it made him feel uncomfortable, and she was not going to be of discomfort to him. Astrid took a deep breath, exhaling in a small chuckle. "Do you drink coffee?" she asked, loosely asking him if he could join her for a cup some time. "There's this great coffee shop a little walk from here, they have twenty-four hours open, and if you wanted we could go get some?" she asked. Astrid was often very forward, but she didn't know how she should be around Zach yet, not wanting to overwhelm him nor be of trouble to him.

“Maybe they do. I havent felt attraction to anyone before,” he said rather truthfully if he ruled out how he was feeling towards her in the moment, which was exactly what he was doing. He could feel the tension that shone off her, mixing with his own in the air like a thick fog that masked them off from the rest of the crowd. He hadnt even bothered to register the background noise that filled the room. Maybe his siren perks played a role as she was a potential prey and she had caught his attention in such a thight grip. His suggestion had been rushed by his mind in an attempt to lure her closer with promises. The promise that he would unfold his secret side that had been known to never be shown, that she could be the one who surpassed that wall that locked out everyone else. Who would say no if their breath was as irregular as hers? He had noticed, he had noticed it and he was using it to his own gain.
He stood there for a while, looking around her face like he couldnt ever have enough of looking at those even lines that kept her perfect frame. As she asked her question, his stance shifted and in an instant he seemed so confident. He made a charming smile as she explained how simple it could be. A simple coffee - Nothing to be afraid of, right? Just an innocent cup of coffee between two people.
No. He wasnt having any of this innocence any longer, stepping forward as he forced her up in a corner around the paintings. He placed his hands on either side of her, still sticking to keeping his hands off of her as he leaned down, their faces nearing each other. Something primitive was in his eyes as he looked at her, he shifted between her eyes as he leaned further down but not to her lips, but to her ear, still keeping the physical contact at zero. “I really want you to come see my work,” he whispered with such charms, he knew what he was doing, speaking in tones that had made other girls melt like butter. “I’m going to leave as this place has nothing more to show me, now when I’ve seen the best, that wasnt even a part of the exhibitions” he spoke in soft purrs as he couldnt help but smile. “When you’re ready, come find me,” he continued, moving his head away from hers as he shortly looked back at the others that had been looking at them. He knew what they were thinking had just happened and a part of him wished that he could have explored her soft plumps lips like that. He let a hand fall down to his pocket as he pulled out a card with his name, number and address to his studio. He offered it to her with inviting eyes, before he finally moved out of the corner he had forced her into. “Sorry. As I said,” he aplogized, yet it didnt seem like he was actually sorry, “I havent felt attraction before” he said in a cryptic sense as he corrected his shirt and took in a deep breath to regain his composure. He nodded a farewell at her, before he made his exit.

She had expected a no to the coffee, but this reaction surprised her. She felt the wall behind her back as he leaned closer to her, his face so close that she could feel his warm breath on her full lips. His whisper made her just look at him in confusion. She could feel his charm, but it was like she didn't like it, making her frown as she looked at him. Astrid was rather independent, even for her young age, so him telling her indirectly what to do didn't sit too well with her. Of course it would be a lie to say she didn't feel attracted to him, but as he kept stating, he hadn't felt attraction before. Was that a hint to the fact that he never would, or perhaps was it his way of telling her that he felt something. Her heart was pumping blood around her system, making her feel the need to move around. Her fingers were starting to itch now, and she felt like he had taken all of her attention that she would usually reserve for keeping her magic in control. The smile he sent her as he spoke so softly, she could've sworn she had never seen anything more beautiful, yet awfully deadly at the same time. He reached down to his pocket and she took the card as he handed it to her, yet she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His words were cryptic, but it was like she didn't need to understand. Her blue eyes watching him as he bid her farewell, but she couldn't get a word out. When he was out of sight she looked down at the card, studying the address that she didn't recognize. Her heart was beating wildly, and she knew if anyone from the press had been here, gossip would be spurting from this encounter. She was just happy to know this was a private exhibition, so she hoped no one had snapped a photo.

As she walked home she still felt her fingers itch, and she was using everything in her power to keep herself from losing it. How could such a stranger grab her attention like this? She started doubting his intentions, wondering if he really was interested in showing her his art, or if it was a ploy to seduce her. Through her teenage years she had had quite a few suitor, yet none of them had lasted. Men were usually after one thing, and one thing only, so she had learned to guard her heart. But why then was he filling her mind as she laid in bed, tossing and turning? When she closed her eyes she could see his carefully crafted face, those blue-green eyes that looked so intensively at her. Then she felt like she could still hear his words about him never being attracted, and she sighed, tossing herself on to her side as she knew this was stupid. He was a stranger, he seemed charming, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of danger in the air. But perhaps that was part of the thrill. She squeezed her eyes harder shut, but it was first when her body fully relaxed that she could sleep. Her dreams were vivid, colors she had never seen before, places she had never been, and there he was. He came towards her and as his hand was placed on her cheek she awoke to the sound of her alarm. She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she felt drained.

Weeks passed, and every night she had the same dream until finally one day she looked up the address. It wasn't a far walk from her place, so she dawned a rather simple outfit before heading out the door. When she wasn't too far she decided to call the number on the card, holding the phone to her ear. Maybe it was stupid. She felt like she was walking in to the lion's den with no protection or even a weapon. "Hi, it's Astrid, the girl from the exhibition a few weeks ago," she would say if he picked up. "I was wondering if you had the time to let me see that art of yours today?" she said, holding her breath as she would wait for a response.

Seeing her reaction to the way he spoke to her didnt seem to faze him as he kept his words alluring yet annoyingly cryptic. He thought that without his charm, she probably wouldnt even had noticed him other than from how he looked. He was quite aware of how he was percieved, but it was like he didnt really care if his image in someone’s eyes were changed due to his behaviour around the person. But his selfish side was begging him not to screw this up and when he had been standing so close to her, the craving to make that first contact, touch her hand or her cheek, it was too great for him to fight off for too long. He had to go home and release the tension inside of him through the outlet he could - His art. He left her speechless without a word as soon as he had nodded his farewell. It was out of his hands as soon as he stepped out on the street, feeling the mild winds of cold air brush his cheeks.

As the weeks went by, he had had a few fits of frustration when she hadnt called. When it had been too much, he had sat down with one of his victims, holding her hand in his as he painted her nails with something thick and red that only seemed to make her cry. He told her calmly about the girl Astrid that he couldnt get out of his mind, how he needed to see her again. But then he started pondering. Could he touch her? He asked the crying girl as he blew air on the thick red color on her nails, but he knew blood wouldnt ever harden like polish - He was just tormenting her because he couldnt handle his own frustration. She didnt answer his question as she just wouldnt stop crying, asking him to let her go home instead. He frowned as he got up from his chair, shaking his head as he gently rubbed some dried blood off her wounded cheek, “No. In fact, you wont ever go home again” he told her with a sad smile though he felt no remorse. Why would he feel remorse for a masterpiece? She had wandered up to him on the street high as a kite, asking for money in return of her services. Such a hideous inside consealed behind a natural beauty, faded in the ugliness of her smothered makeup. He wanted the world to see her true color, her real ugliness. So he had ruined her beauty to a wreckage of wounds and dried up blood, every cut in sybolism to her true nature. A trampy drug addict with no future, at least not anymore. His phone called and he sighed as he got up from his chair, pinching the girl’s slashed cheek in a jest as he went to a more quiet room, to accept the call. When he heard her voice, his mouth dropped a little as he felt it dry up in an instant. “Astrid. Yeah, I remember you. I’m in the middle of something right now, but it can wait. Do you still have my card?” He asked, feeling his heart thump in his chest with so muc power in every beat. He looked around for a bit as his mind started to realize the girl in his studio had to disappear. He ran a hand through his hair, smearing off a little blood from his palm onto the side of his forehead. “Shoot me a message when you’re here. I’ll be cleaning up a little, it’s a mess in there,” he said with a soft chuckle as he told her goodbye and hanged up. He tapped his fingers on the back of his phone before walking back to the girl. He grabbed a rather sharp spatula for paint as he went closer to her. Disposing of the body was easy, just down the shaft to a place where it would be picked up by someone else. He looked around at the bloodsplatter, shrugging as he cleaned off the spatula. He waited for her text, and when he got it, he went down to let her in. He had a few red stains here and there but it looked like fresh paint more than what it really was. He opened the door as his eyes met hers, his heart skipping a beat as he just seemed to stare at her for a bit. “Hi,” he finally said as he stepped aside to let her in.

Hearing his voice made her feel like she was back in her dreams. The way he said her name made small goosebumps appear on her arms. "Yeah, I got your card," she said, smiling as she looked down at the cardboard she held between her thumb and index finger. He seemed in a good mood, chuckling and sounding every bit as charming over the phone as he did in real life. "Sure," she replied, hanging up and placing her phone in her pocket as she walked the last few blocks. The wind outside was mild, the leaves of the trees already changing their color to the autumn reds and yellow. When the seasons changed she always felt more at ease, it was like a new beginning four times a year, and keeping it that way made her not regret her past mistakes. She reached the door, texting him and she soon heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it swung open. There he was, like he had been handpicked from her vivid dreams to appear in the doorway. He didn't say anything, and she felt the breathlessness return. He spoke, softly and inviting and as he stepped aside she walked in. "Hi," she said in a sweet voice as she passed him. Taking off her jacket released her pale hair, and she ran a few fingers through it to undo what the wind had done on her walk over here. She looked around at the space before her eyes returned to his. Blue and green colors shining from his eyes to her, and she couldn't help herself from smiling a bit. She had thought a lot about him saying he hadn't felt attracted to anyone before, and she had come to realize that this would simply be platonic. Or maybe only professional, but she wanted to take him up on the offer of showing his art off. Astrid was not a person easily scared, and as she walked further in she saw the many paintings inside. "You have a little .." she said, gesturing to her own face where the paint was, smiling as she knew all too well how things could become messy. Her eyes wandering around the room, she looked at the brushes lining tables and windowsills, saw the new canvasses ready to be filled with new art. And then there was the smell of paint. It was almost giving her an headache, but she didn't really mind. "I've been thinking a lot, about what you said at the art gallery," she said, looking back at him, moving some hair behind her ear.

He could hardly believe that he was seeing her again as she passed him, her scent making him sigh quietly as he closed the door to follow her. He felt more in control of himself this time, not letting his mind overrun with it’s begging that had become tiresome a long time ago. He had only dreamt of how she would feel in his palm and frankly now he felt scared that he would be wrong. He loved her perfection more than he wanted to admit but it was so obsessive that he barely could muster the thought of it fading. He had watched beauty fade, it wasnt a pretty sight. He had taken beauty away and made monstrocity, but he had never found a way to preserve the beauty, enhance and highlight it in his work.
He watched her look around his studio, mesmerized by her beauty like had he just met her at the art event. When she gestured at her face, he scoffed with a soft smile, picking up a wet cloth from his table of assorted utensils for his work, patting off the blood before crumbling the cloth up to a ball to throw it towards the trashcan - A perfect throw that landed right in the middle. He walked over to a covered up painting as he carefully touched the caroet that was covering it. Her words made him raise his eyebrows in curiosity as he turned his head to look at her. “What have you concluded from your thinking then?” He asked as he moved away from the painting to walk a little closer to her. He tilted his head slightly to the side as he placed his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been thinking too,” he said as he turned his attention away from her to touch some of the bottles of paint. But he wanted to hear what she had to say before speaking his mind.

Astrid watch him dry off his face, following the paper to the trashcan before she looked back at him again. "About the art making art, about how my work doesn't make any sense," she said, her breathing becoming a bit more heavy as she looked at him. She knew she was awake, because he hadn't reached for her yet, he hadn't placed his hands on her, and she knew that reality was he never would. She would just have to ignore whatever attraction she had and put it to rest. "But I've decided that I don't want it to make sense, because it doesn't have to," she said, looking at him touching the paints. She had never dared trying to paint, knowing it would end in a disaster. With a sculpture she found it easier, having her hands get dirty for a result that she wouldn't ever be satisfied with. "Art doesn't have to make sense because to me it's chaotic, it holds no value to think that me trying to imitate something would change the emptiness I get after," she said, exhaling as she looked at him. He had been thinking too, he said, making her wonder what he had been thinking about. She walked over, touching a paint tube carefully, not wanting to mess up his organization. "I don't have to apologize for what I make, not when in the end it's not made for others to watch," she said, looking at him as she wondered what he was thinking. Taking a calming breath she looked down at the paints; so many options. "What have you been thinking about?" she finally asked, looking at him with almost innocent blue eyes.

As she spoke, he was looking at the different colours, running his finger down a colour he liked. He turned his eyes to her, nodding a little as he agreed with her. He didnt really have a hard time agreeing as his art was more complicated if not cruel to some. He couldnt show others because no one would understand it anyway. He couldnt ever understand the emptiness she felt, but he wanted to in a way. View art the way she did. He raised an eyebrow as she mentioned apologies, the confusion fell over his face as he looked at her hand carefully touching his assortment. The way he looked at her hand it was clear that he was thinking of something that related to her words but not in a good way at all. He looked back at her at she looked at the paint, clenching his jaw shortly. Did she know and now she was telling him in his own cryptic way of speaking that it was okay? She couldnt. It was just his mind trying to convince him that she would accept him for who he was. He frowned a little before he moved away, turning to an empty canvas. "You spoke of all the emotions that you felt when you were making your piece. It sparked a curiosity in me," he said in a low tone as he looked at the clean slate, ready to be filled out with colour and emotion. He blinked a few times, drawing in a deep breath as he imagined leading her hand, for some reason the thought alone was driving him a little crazy. "I want to see you paint," he said as he turned his head to look at her, his face as serious as his words.

Astrid felt herself nod as he spoke of the emotions she had described to him. She remembered quite vividly how he seemed to draw those words from her lips. His sentence following made her look a bit surprised at him, and she could've sworn he had said something else and she felt herself staring a bit. Swallowing she shook her head. "I, uhh, I don't paint," she said, taking a step away from the paints. Had she given him the impression that she did? Feeling like her heart was going crazy she looked at the empty canvas. It was his atelier, she couldn't possibly be asked to do that here. The nervousness had hit her system, and she didn't feel comfortable, moving out in to the hallway before she stopped. She looked at the door, feeling the need to run, to hide away as she felt embarrassed. Her cheeks had rushed with blood, making a display of almost watercolored red over her cheeks. One thing was creating in her own time, but having him look would be more than just standing naked in front of him.

He felt it like a thorn in his heart when she said no, but his face showed none of it. She was truly dangerous and he realized as she shook her head, denying his request. He wasnt used to feeling hurt and yet the burn in his heart felt so consuming. She left and he frowned as he looked back at the canvas, his blood running hot in his veins with frustration. The feeling of not having seen her in those weeks came crawling back and he couldnt allow him. No, he couldnt allow her that power over him any longer. She was perfection and he would be damned to let her slip out of his grasp. He walked out into the hallway, looking at her as he drew in a calming breath. “Fine. You dont have to, because I’m not here to force you, he said as he approached her but seemed to keep his distance still.
He shifted between her eyes, feeling how her system seemed to be panicking, “Let me paint you,” he suggested insted, feeling like she would rather let him do that. If she left him now, he wouldnt ever be able to forgive himself. He craved her, he needed her, needed her to be here and be the muse he had dreamed she would before he had even mer her.