||Vincent Sinclair x Reader|| House of Wax

Part 8 |The Artist|

Carly must have seen them too, considering the sharp gasp she suddenly let out. But the instant she turned, the person had vanished.

"What? What is it?" Wade asked, leaving the dining room.

"I just saw someone," Carly said breathlessly.

"it was probably just a wax thing," Wade dismissed her.

"No, no. It wasn't a wax thing. It was moving and it was freaky-looking," she spoke quickly, and edge of fear to her tone.

Wade looked at me with a 'what gives' sort of look. "Yea, I saw a person too. Their face was off, like they were wearing a mask or something."

"I'll go check it out," Wade said, briskly walking to the door, "you guys hang just hang a second," he added before making his way outside.

Carly frantically looked around at each wax figure in the room, as if they were about tot magically spring to life.

"Girl, you need to calm down, it's not that big of a deal," I giggled at how afraid she was, "we're in a closed building... probably just a concerned townsperson."

Carly just huffed, her brows still drawn together in worry we explored a bit more, checking to see if whoever we saw had come inside.

We had made it to the kitchen when a loud banging sound startled us. We both whirled around to face the sound, Carly unluckily coming face to face with a sculpture, its face all warped and melted.

She shrieked, accidentally knocked the thing over. I tried to reach forward and save it, but its hollow head shattered against the edge of the table next to it.

"Carly," I called after her as she made a break for the entrance, "Carly it was just Wade," I said, jogging after her.

She burst out the front doors, running right into Wades arms, "whoa, hey! Damn, Carly, what's wrong?" He said as if he didn't know exactly what he'd just done.

"This place is freaking me out," she exasperated.

"Hey calm down. There's no one out here," Wade quickly reassured.

I was standing in the doorway now, leaning against the waxy frame.

"Please, I just want to go," she said, already running down the steps.

"Okay, okay," Wade surmised, "Y/N come on."

"I'm gonna hang back for a bit," I said calmly, "I dropped my bag inside during the commotion, plus I wanna look around a little more."

"Uh, okay," Wade shrugged, "just meet us at the station soon all right?"

"Works for me!" I said happily, sauntering back into the building.

I traced my steps back to the kitchen. On the floor next to the kitchen table was my bag, a few of the art supplies had fallen out.

I knelt down to pick it all up when a creaking sound caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder, no one was there as expected - I did however notice an old gramophone.

I walked over to it, there was already a disk just waiting to be heard, so, I placed the needle down.

A nostalgic crating noise came out of it, then the music started. The tune was very recognizable to me, the song Tonight You Belong To Me by Patience and Prudence was playing.

Old songs always got me in an artsy mood. So, I decided to sit down at the kitchen table and sketch, taking inspiration from some of the fine works I'd seen in this strange little wax museum.

As I drew, I could hear wood creaking again, like footsteps behind me in the dining room.

I whirled around in my seat, knowing it couldn't be Wade or Carly since they hadn't been gone nearly long enough, and I doubted Carly would ever step foot in here again.

It took you a few seconds to register that the person standing behind me was indeed a living person, not a wax statue.

I jumped to my feet when the person flinched to a step back, practically hiding behind the door now. "I saw you...?" I said more as a question than anything.

The person nodded slowly, almost in a shy manner.

I studied his face for a moment, realizing he was in fact wearing a mask - which I assumed to be made out of wax. "Are you the artist?" I asked, gesturing around at the art.

He nodded his head again, seeming even more shy as he no longer made direct eye contact.

My eyes lit up in excitement, "these pieces... they're incredible Vincent," I said with a bright smile, "sorry, can I call you Vincent?"

His eyes shot straight to me now, they were wide like shocked by my enthusiasm.

I couldn't help it as I started to rambled on about how amazing his sculptural work was. He just looked completely stunned, but I swear I could see a smile behind that mask. "Am I talking too much?" I finally asked with a nervous smile.

Vincent hastily shook is head 'No.' It seemed like he very much enjoyed hearing praise for his art, I could relate.

I moved away from the table slightly, unintentionally revealing my open sketch book to Vincent.

He pointed at it, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. "Oh, my sketchbook?" I said.

"Can I see?" He rasped, just below a whisper.

"Oh!" I was shocked at his low voice, gravely house, "um, sure." I walked over to the table and he followed.

I watched his eyes closely as they scanned the pages intently. He wasn't saying anything, but I understood he wouldn't be much of a talker.

When he got to the end, I picked up the sketchbook and tore a blank paper out. Handing it to him I asked, "wanna draw with me?"

His eyes squinted behind the mask, signifying to me he was beaming. He nodded and graciously took the paper, along with a spare pencil I'd pulled from my satchel.

We both sat in the room, listening to the record player, and drawing as time flew by. I probably talked the poor mans ear off, only receiving the occasional one word question or response from him - he didn't seem to mind.

When record had stopped playing, it was like I was lifted from a trance. I looked down at my phone in a slight panic; it had been almost half an hour, "oh shit," I cursed.

Vincent immediately looked up, seemingly worried.

"I have to go! My friends are probably waiting for me," I laughed nervously."God, I am so sorry," I apologized got up and started picking up my things, not even really realizing Vincent had moved closer.

"Oh, thank you!" I said as he handed 'e his pencil and paper. The paper was nearing folder in twice over, hiding the drawing inside. I decided you would look at it later when I wasn't in such a rush.

I hastily walked over to the front door. Vincent curiously following behind me.

Before leaving I turned to face him, "thanks again," I smiled, "this was nice!" After I pushed open, I paused for a brief moment, "and sorry for breaking."

Word count: 1100+

A/N- I literally wrote this on New Year's Day at 2AM

[Updated]