Gemme: Second Place ConfusionMature

I pulled the blinds closed, grabbed my paints and set up my first canvas. I started with a sketch, of Lust. I know I previously said it was hard but as I glanced at myself in the mirror my idea was there. The background was red, about fifty different tones. I was in the foreground, naked, my arms covering the most sensual parts of me. A white blindfold wrapped around my eyes, a perfectly red apple between my equally as luscious lips. Chains were wrapped around my arms, connected to shackles on my wrists. I was quite happy with it; it was a wonderful piece of art.

I painted for a while, stopping ever now and then to smile at Luca. I had already finished my sketch and background when I wondered how he could sit there. "It's been three hours, aren’t you bored yet?"

"Huh? Oh, I was in my quiet place," he shrugged.

"Okay." I smiled, "sorry." I whispered, turning back to my painting, it was another three hours before I finally finished, asking him if he wanted to see. It took me six hours overall to do though which was a little downside. But good art was worth it.

He blinked at me and seemed to wake up a bit. "Sure," he said, getting up. I was a little unsure what he would think of it, I hoped he liked it; it was just the content that I was unsure of really.

 "Wow," he muttered, putting his arms around my waist and hugging me from behind. He reached around and kissed me on the cheek.

"One down," I smiled. "Wrath next, I think."

"I'm gonna take a wild guess at that being me in a bad mood?" he laughed

"If you don't mind," I smiled, staring at my painting still. He shrugged and I turned, so I could wrap my arms around him, kissing him softly. "Thank you, Muse." He kissed back hesitantly at first. Apparently six hours inside his own head isn't good for him.

I broke away from him and placed the painting on the floor, resting against a wall and took out another canvas. "Are you okay?" I asked as I took my pencil out and sharpened it, before sketching on the canvas again.

"Mhmm," he nodded.

"Hmm, perhaps you should stop thinking so much." I mumbled absently.

"Mmm, you could be right there."

"Well perhaps you could play your guitar or something?" He nodded and got up to go get it, when he appeared again I had already finished the background and had begun painting him. It’s a lot easier to paint a background when it’s one colour. If you’re wondering, ‘why sketch the picture then paint over it?’ Well, I have a picture memory. I know the image off by heart after I sketch it.

He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall nearest me as he played. I smiled, it was wonderful. He was playing his soul and I was painting mine. His music was nice; the faint lullaby even helped me paint. I was too enveloped in my painting to realise what song it was, but I must have known it because I unknowingly began to hum along.

I hope he really didn’t mind, but who better to embody wrath? The background consisted of one block colour, a deep maroon. Luca was in the foreground and, if I don’t say so, it was incredibly hard to paint. His black hair was a mess of spikes above his head, his head was down but he glanced up, shadows covered his eyes but the original lush chocolate I knew of them were cold. His hands were contorted, the veins straining in his fists. He had no top on, of course and all his tattoos danced on his skin. He wore on his legs torn jeans, with claw marks scratched into them. Black boots adorned his feet, the polished, army kind. I smiled, yawning slightly, “I’ve finished.” A whole day and only two sins done, this was going to take a long time to complete. What more, I had no more ideas for any other sins. Well, I had ideas, but I had no models.

He looked up and stopped playing. Getting up, he stood the guitar up against the wall and stood behind me to look at the painting. "That looks more like the me that I know, "he muttered with a vague smile.

"Not the one I know." I mumbled in reply as I looked at the painting, sort of scary he looked as he gazed out at me with icy eyes. I shuddered slightly.  

"No, well I don't usually wear boots," he laughed softly and turned me around, hugging me gently. I nodded, resting my head on his chest as I sighed before I finally lifted my arms around him in a loose embrace.

He looked up at the painting again over my shoulder and hummed a light "mmm" before kissing the top of my head.

"You know it's rather scary." I mumbled into his chest, recalling the painting. Well, it was a rather good painting. It certainly got its point across.

"It would explain why no one except for Rayn talked to me at school," he smiled, why was he smiling?

I shuddered again. "I didn't mean for it to turn out like that.”

"Well if you don't like it, start again," he shrugged.

"No, it's perfect. It's just so cold."

"That would be me," he muttered.

I squeezed him harder and shook my head. "A painting is not a window into the soul Luca."

"Then what is it?"

"It is whatever I make it to be. This is the sin wrath, a cold and merciless portrayal of the sin. It is not a self-portrait of you!" Okay, that was a contradiction from earlier when I said who better than to embody wrath. But I didn’t expect it to come out like this.

"Gemme, it's an accurate picture of me as well as the sin."

"No..." I mumbled. He was silent and I shook my head. "I do not believe that. In fact, I'll destroy it, start again."

"No! Its fine," his tone was surprised. "Do you really hate my personality that much that any times you see something close to it you have to destroy it?"

"I hate you saying you are as cold as ice and if this painting embodies that, as you say, I'll destroy it." I murmured, breaking free from him and running downstairs.

"Gemme!" he called, following me down. I ran into the kitchen, grabbing the knife and briskly walked back. Luca caught me in the doorway of the kitchen and grabbed my wrist firmly, telling me to put the knife down. I shook my head firmly. "Gemme, if you don't put it down yourself, I will make you put it down, now stop being stupid." He growled.

"No!" I shouted it was my painting, my life. I would do with it as I pleased. His eyes hardened and he stared into mine delving into my body, though he was only holding my wrist. He lifted my hand out to the side and gritted his teeth as he made my hand begin to spasm. I fought against it with my own gift as I sent the surge of power back to him. "Stop it." I murmured, not breaking his gaze.

He healed it away and shook his head. "We could stay like this all day, but I'd really rather we didn't. There's no need to ruin a perfectly good painting, so don't."

"But I don't want you to feel like that!"

"Feel like what?"

"Like you're so cold! You're not to me; I don't want you to think like that."

"I'm not to you because you're not like the rest of the world. Drop the knife, I’m beginning to lose my patience," he tried to keep the snarl out of his voice. I didn't break his gaze and I shook my head once more. "Drop the knife!" he shouted. I shook my head even fiercely, I tried to keep his gaze without feeling scared, but I was the one with the knife in my hand.

The knife began to shake in my hand. I tightened my grip on it, not allowing it to go. "Gemme, you're really beginning to piss me off, and I really don't want to hit you. Please, just drop the knife, and don't destroy your painting."

"Why?" I asked, my brow furrowing slightly at how he would hit me over the stupidest thing. It was after all MY painting.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to drop the knife?"

"Because I don't want you to rip the painting, why else?"

"Why do you like the painting so?" I didn’t know he was such a fan of art.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath. Opening them again, he spoke. "Because it's a good painting. It doesn't matter whether I think it looks like how I feel, it doesn't matter if you don't like my view on it, because at the end of the day, you're painting it to go in a gallery where people are free to think what they like about it."

I growled, grabbing the knife by the blade I threw it into the wall opposite me before following it, then turned to walk upstairs.

"Oh for fuck's sake, I shouldn't have fucking said anything," Luca muttered behind me as he followed me up the stairs again.

"Luca, if you're okay with it, it’s fine." I sighed, draping a cloth over it.

"Then why are you covering it?"

"So I don't have to have it staring at me. At least that one's blindfolded." I muttered, motioning at the lust painting.

"Right," he said disbelievingly. Leaning against the wall, he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one glaring at the sheet over the painting.

I stood in front of him, pushing his hand out the way of his mouth; I waited for him to turn his head to the side and blow out his smoke before I kissed him. "It is fine." I repeated.

"Good," he muttered, kissing me back awkwardly.

"Then why are you so awkward?" He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head, taking a long drag on his cigarette. I nodded, kissing him again... "Which one tastes sweeter?" I asked slightly. He looked at me confused and I giggled. “Me or... that?"

He looked from me to the cigarette and raised an eyebrow. "You. Why d'ya ask?"

"Curious." I grinned, walking back to my painting stuff.

"You and your curiosity," he muttered, watching me.

"Yeah, I remember." I smile, placing the painting of him on top of the others, draping the cloth over both of them to protect them. I don’t actually believe that a moment ago I was about to slash it.

"Mmm," he slid down the wall and sat back on the floor. He put his cigarette between his lips and left it there, picking his guitar back up, beginning to play. He had gone from wanting to hit me to playing his guitar as if nothing had happened in the space of a few minutes.

"Your mood changed quickly."

He looked up at me and nodded, managing to blow smoke out and not spit the cigarette on the floor at the same time. "My mood always changes quickly," he muttered

"Ha, I thought I was the Gemini."

"Mmm," he nodded slowly again to himself, returning to the guitar as he played. I sat down, facing him; I tugged down the shirt self-consciously and I crossed my legs. "Sorry I snapped," he muttered, beginning to play a new song.

"Its fine, you had good reason to."

"If you say so," he murmured, glancing at the door as the ashtray floated in, settling on the floor beside him. He paused to put the cigarette in the tray before turning his attention back to me and the guitar. I laid down on the floor, resting my head on what little lap space he had so I looked up at him for a moment before I closed my eyes, letting the music take over with a smile on my face.

As I closed my eyes he started another new song, this one more complicated than the others, but played just as well. He hummed along, not confident enough to sing the words running through his head. I picked up for him instead, using the words in his head, and the tune from the guitar to sing along. When we finished I heard the lyrics and opened my eyes, looking up at him again. "Luca..."


"That was rather... fitting."

"Yeah... it's a good song."

"It is." I nodded in agreement. *silent* I closed my eyes again and smiled. "And I need someone to put my trust in." I repeated. "Hmm..."



He set the guitar aside on the floor. "What’s interesting?"

"That song." *...* "I'm sorry." I whispered, sitting up again.

"What for?"

"I keep making you fall silent. I must be making you feel awkward.”

"No... I've just had Emily in my head all fucking day, like she's trying to make me feel bad for trying to move on in a way that doesn't have me... holed up in a wardrobe gasping for air."


He was quiet for a moment. "Sorry."

"No. I'd rather know." I smiled, "I could fix it simply, painlessly but I think its better if you work it out on your own."

"You don't deserve to have to go in my head again," he laughed weakly

"I would, if you wanted me too though. I'll step more carefully though."

"I dunno... I mean, I want her out of my head, yeah, but I can hardly remember life before she was stuck in my head..."

"She must have meant a lot to you."

"First person to come along and have faith in me, first person I destroyed and actually regretted it...”

"Yeah..." I muttered, a tear rolling down my cheek. "It must be hard for you."

"However hard it is for me, it can't be much easier for you..." he murmured, wiping the tear away with a rough thumb."No, it's harder for you I'm sure." I nodded, I'm sure it was... hmm, I'm not sure if I believed that.

He pulled me into a loose hug. "I just want her to go away," he whispered, the image of her in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines with a doctor saying something beside him flashing into his mind

I winced; the image seemed to make it worse. Damn it, she looked so... no. Gemme don't, but I couldn't stop it, I began to cry anyway. "She won't. She loved you."

"I want her to go away!" he yelled, trying not to cry too as the image lingered.

"You can't. She meant too much to you. She won't."

He rested his head on my shoulder, holding back his long over-due tears. "Please, Gemme," he pleaded, "make her stop."

"Hush." I whispered, silencing his mind for a little while. "It will be for you to settle her for yourself; after all, it's you bringing her up. Not her." I shook my head softly, resting my head on his shoulder. "But for now..." I murmured hugging him firmly. He let out a shuddering breath as his mind quietened, lifting his head again. "Sorry," he mumbled, sniffing.

"No need." I know I would be nothing to Emily, so I would help him as best I could. I would always be second-best...

"No, there is. I'm being pathetic," he laughed shakily and tightened his hug on me slightly.

"Hush." I smiled, kissing him in a way to silence him, seriously hush, Luca.

It took him a moment to kiss back, his mind craving oblivion as he tried to heal away the physical need for the drugs. "Sorry," he muttered again, realising I'd have heard what was on his mind, "sorry."

"Sit still." I whispered, wrapping my arms round his neck I silently tip-toed into his mind, trying my best to erase the need for drugs. It wouldn't last forever but... it was a start. A low hiss escaped his lips as I moved through his mind and his subconscious tried to heal me out. "Sorry, you'll be okay for now."

"You didn't stop her punishing me, though," he whined in a hurt tone as he leant his head back against the wall, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"I can't. It's you punishing yourself, not her. You're just using her as an excuse." I shook my head.

His eyes snapped to mine, fierce for a moment, his expression nearly matching the one I painted - just for a second; before his face slackened and his body slumped. With a moan, he nodded and closed his eyes. "You're right... You're always bloody right," he muttered.

"Sorry." I whispered, standing up. "I'm so sorry."

"Why? Why are you sorry? I'm the one that did this," he said, looking up at me.

"Because I'll never be as good, I'll never be Emily, or like Emily. I can't help you with this." My back was to him and I didn't turn around as I spoke... it was true.

He looked at me, shocked for a moment, then stood up. "What are you talking about?" He asked incredulously, putting a hand on my shoulder to turn me around. "You're... far better than Emily. I love you, I do, really. I just need time," he smiled weakly.

"I don't think I am." Even though he turned me round I couldn't look up, I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Why don't you think you are? Just because she was the first person to have any kind of faith in me, she was nothing like you. I can't even slap you without feeling horrible, but I could beat her up and feel nothing other than some sick kind of satisfaction for hurting her..."

"But it's been so long and you still miss her."

"I feel bad about killing her. That and the fact I've never given myself time to move on, because I was always high. The only times I was sober, I was asleep. For a whole year, right up till I met you."


"Please, Gemme. I need you," he tilted my head up gently but I looked to the floor still, my bottom lip quivering. Damn... I still couldn’t believe that I was better than her. I knew he was right if I just listened. He wrapped me in his arms gently, firmly, saying nothing more. I screwed my eyes shut, nestling my head in his shoulder. "I need you too." I mumbled.

"I love you," he whispered in my mind.

"I love you too." I whispered back, finally bringing my arms around him.

The End

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