Gemme: Portrait

Sell a painting, what an idea. What an idea. I pondered this and came up with the strangest idea. I saw a space downtown a few weeks ago. A gallery space, if I could get a few more pictures of Luca I could... I grinned, if only he would sit for me. Well, he liked the silence and I loved the painting. I would have to get an A4 painting of his face and another full-body A3 piece. “The fallen angel gallery,” I could just see it now. But would Luca like it? Probably not; but if there is one thing he taught me (sort of) is that I should look after myself more. This would be the perfect time to do just that. I looked at him. “That is a great idea, I saw a space downtown. If I save my money that I get tomorrow from my income; pay the gas and water I should have enough to rent it for a day or two.” I smiled at the idea. Although, I should really get a job but it never goes well.

Once I had a job waiting tables at a restaurant. I loved it, the hours, the people, the money (the tips) but the things running through their minds. Customers and Employees alike, the uniform was a pair of black trousers and tie and a white blouse. This was okay, as it made their images quite blurred as they strained to imagine but still. The thoughts that constantly ran through my head drove me insane so I quit. I learnt to control that now. I can control what powers I use and such, but when my brother is close they go crazy. I don’t think I have enough power to control them; but I have found that they only flux when my emotions get out of control. But anyway, back to the gallery, Luca’s and my gallery.

“Would you mind sitting for me? I need some inspiration to paint.” I knew I had enough paint and canvas. I always had many sizes upstairs and about three truckloads of paint, slight exaggeration; only slightly.

“They can’t all be of me.” I blink. Was I too obvious? How did he know, he couldn’t have known.

“No. I know I just enjoy painting you.” I lied; it was a good one though!

He laughed and I smiled shyly. “Okay then...” he trailed and I grinned. He had no idea.

“Well, would you like to go upstairs or should I bring my stuff down here?” I asked, the light was better downstairs but my room had a better feel to it.

“Wherever you paint best,” he shrugged.

“Upstairs then,” I ran upstairs and he followed, quickly I set up a new canvas, placing the painting next to the one I did before from memory. “This may sound strange but...” Déjà vu, “could you take your top of please?” I wanted to see his tattoos, but I didn’t tell him that, the way he chuckled and began to take it off I didn’t need to.

“May I?" I reached out a hand hesitantly.

He looked oddly at my hand, "may you what?"

 "Trace your tattoos. I find it better to paint if I remember the touch, the object I made with my hand."

“Oh sure,”

"What did you think I was going to do?" I laughed, tracing the tribal designs around his arm and back, trying to keep the touch as soft as possible. Each intricate swirl to every jagged line, I truly did see beauty in tattoos.

"Well I'm not a mind reader, I don't know. No one tends to ask to touch me."

"When you put it like that... it just sounds wrong." I giggled, when I saw the kanji symbol again. "So, what's the inspiration?" I asked tapping the symbol carefully. I was curious. That was another thing I hated, curiosity killed the cat. Well, maybe but I’m not a cat so I wouldn’t be interested in what a cat would be, would I? Nor could I be killed by simple curiosity.

 "You mean what inspired getting the kanji for warrior?"

"Yeah," I noticed how dreamy I sounded and tried to snap out of it. Easier said than done I suppose when you are looking at the topless man you love hmm? Hehe.

"Hmm, just the sense that you have to fight for everything; I got it to remind me that what I have, I've fought for and I’ve worked for it. That was probably the least spontaneous tattoo I've had,"

I nodded, intrigued. "Well, sit." I smiled setting the chair quite close to the easel. He sat down and I began to paint, I started with a deep maroon background before following by painting his portrait. He would hate it. I knew he would, I don’t see why; his face was so beautiful even in its flaws. I made sure to make it show in my painting. “There. Finished,” I announced a while later, standing back from my piece of work I grinned. It had begun to get late but I didn’t care. I was happy, although I wondered what Luca thought.

The End

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