Sunflower. [F. W]

94. Starry night

The last stop in Bee and Fred's honeymoon was New York City. Fred had been enjoying himself: the food, the sex, getting lost in other cities... But something he had been really enjoying was museums. Sure he felt like a little kid walking among dinosaurs but he truly did fantasize about having his paintings hung in one of the many museums they had visited. 

They were currently hand in hand roaming to MoMA, until a certain painting caught the ginger's attention. Maybe it was the colours, maybe it was the way the trace seemed to leave the paper, but he just couldn't stop looking at it. 

"So you like Van Gogh, huh?" 

Fred nodded, still too engulfed in the painting. He made a mental note to look for it in a book so he could paint it in their bedroom, Bee had been asking him to for ages, so this was the perfect excuse. 

"Do you know anything about him, love?" 

"Are you asking me to talk to you about art, Weasley? I thought we agreed in fourth year that I would never ever do that."

"Oh come on, we were 14. Pretty please!" 

"Well Vincent was born in The Netherlands, into a pretty religious family. He didn't have that much of a happy childhood, his father was an ass. He had a great relationship with his brother Theo, who bought the only painting sold when he was alive. I've read some of their letters to you before bed, do you remember?" 

"That Vincent is this Vincent?" 

"Exactly. He has beautiful paintings. My favourite are the Sunflowers, we could go see them in London if you want to. He got really ill, mentally. The village he was staying in didn't help at all. He cut off one of his ears, and he even started eating paint. People say it's because yellow is a happy colour but truth is, he was suicidal." 

"Oh no, what happened to him?" 

"He shot himself in the chest. Went to the hospital afterwards but no one really attended his wound so he died." 

"He died unhappy?" 

"Unhappy and probably feeling like a monster." 

Something moved inside Fred, the thought of dying unhappy scared him, but hearing her talking like that about Vincent made Fred go into deja-vu. The couple made his way outside, bought a slice of pizza and sat on a very big park they found on the map. 

"Have you ever felt like that?" 

"Like what? What are you on about Freddie?"

"Like a monster... I know we don't talk much about your insecurities and I've already brought them up twice during this trip but it bugs me at times, and I wanted to talk to you about it." 

"What bugs you?" 

"Not knowing how you feel or what makes you insecure. Because I know you like to play it cool, but this is something we should talk about. I want to know as your partner and husband." 

"To answer your question, I have felt like monster before." 

"You have?" 

"Yeah... It has never been constant, of course. But have you ever looked into a mirror and not know who was the one staring back at you?" 

"Um, no" Fred admitted, his eyes filled with worry. 

"It used to happen a lot to me in fifth year. Sure I had felt a little bad before dad got out of jail because of the whispers and the stares. But yeah, it started  when I was 14 but got really bad after a year. I felt like monster, I felt like that is what I looked like to other people. And I guess it is a feeling that never goes away entirely, kind of like grief. It seems like it is gone and then someone will say something and there it is, creeping up on you again. It can be something not even that triggering, maybe you pass a group of people and they whisper and your head just thinks it's about you. Or maybe someone simply points out something different about you, and you just kind of overthink it."