Sorrow | 18+

41 You choose, Vivienne

A song to listen to:
Est-ce que tu m’aimes by GIMS

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Vivienne

I could picture it clearly. How he would dip his previous and expensive brushes to the paint. How each stroke would be a continuum of his hand. The hours he would spend perfecting every detail. The way his scalp would hurt for having his hair tied up for too long and his fingers cramping until he was forced to stop painting. I could not picture him as a messy painter, clothes full of stains. No, he would be crispy clean even with fully white clothes on. Only his fingernails would give it a way, the stains covering his cuticles. 

He didn’t paint much when we were together, he only used his brushes for calligraphy. Now his talent was in front of me, showing me my own sleeping face. It was too realistic, but somehow blurry, like it was a real dream. My eyes were closed in painting, every eyelash carefully brushed on. My hair had opened from a braid and was curling over my features. The pillow hugged me and my other hand was reaching forward, trying to escape the frames. The colours were hazy, muted and dark. Was this how he remembered me? And what was this saying about his feelings for me? 

“I don’t like it”, Zero’s voice startled me, his lips almost tracing my ear. I spinned around in shock at his proximity and I tripped. I flew down on his bed, his body looming over me. I sat down as I settled, not ready to move again as the only way was to go up against his skin.

“What don’t you like?”, I asked quietly as his dark eyes were not on me but on the painting above. 

“The painting. I wasn’t able to capture you properly as I couldn’t remember every detail of you”, he sounded weird, upset even about the fact. “Your eyes”, his gaze switched over to me, nailing me further to the bed.”I tried to paint them for weeks but I couldn’t remember the exact colour, the way you looked at me.”

A silence fell and I didn’t have any answer to him. I was afraid to move my eyes away as I could picture him to force myself to look at him again. He was studying me, memorizing me. For another painting perhaps.

“I did remember your eyes”, I gulped as I confessed to him. “They haunted me every night, in every person I brought in my bed. I felt them over me every fucking day.”

“Good”, he murmured, almost a selfish grin formed on his lips, like he was satisfied. He bent over slightly, his arms confining me to stay still, not to flinch away from him. I felt the heartbeat of mine pick up its pace. His scent that was overwhelming already, was only deepening. 

“You tortured me in my sleep, shot me and crushed my heart. There’s not a fucking thing that’s good”, I murmured, my voice betraying me inch by inch. His fingers traced my cheek, maybe they were as red as I feared. His slight grin didn’t disappear, but something sorrowful gleamed in his eyes from my words. Suddenly he straightened up again and his right hand opened the nightstand’s drawer. He pulled out a gun. A sleek, black one. Not the familiar one in my sleep, the one he had threatened me with. A simple click and the safety was on. A panic ran through my veins. What the fuck was he doing?

“I like that you swear a lot more nowadays, it makes you cuter you know. More irresistible”, he whispered in a low tone. Remi’s words had to be the truth. He was losing it, spiraling to madness. Then he turned the gun’s handle towards me. I looked at it for a long moment, my heart drumming in my ears. 

“Take it”, he ordered and touched my hand to inch it up. Hesitantly my fingers circled the cool handle. It fit on my hand, not too heavy or big. He jerked my hand towards him, the barrel was against his black t-shirt, pressed on top of his heart. 

“Shoot me”, he simply said and I couldn’t read his piercing eyes. Was he serious?

“What?”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your trust. But I do love you and on some level I know you care about me, so I trust you”, his voice carried to my ears, with an unwavering certainty. “With my life. You choose, Vivienne.”

“Zero, please”, I begged him. His fingers were curled around mine, the gun was pushed harsher against him. His other hand raised to my lips, a gentle brush over them.

“I didn’t know you needed me to say it”, A regretful tone was taking over his voice. “I only ever said those words once in my lifetime, to my dying mother. I thought it was enough proof when I asked you to marry me. But now I will say I love you until you believe it.”

A small, fucking tear betrayed me. A tear he catched with his finger, wiping it a way and bringing it to his lips. His grip released over my fingers. I lowered my gaze to the gun. A simple push and the bullet would pierce his heart. Would I be happier then? 

“I’m afraid of you”, I whispered, not looking at his eyes but like I knew, he grabbed my chin. My gaze returned to his. The way he looked at me. I saw that he was ready for me to pull the trigger. He would’ve not regretted it if I did it. 

Then he apologised. A low “I’m sorry” left his mouth and my tears were bursting out of my eyes. He was a lunatic, I was a fucking mess. The gun slipped from my fingers, dropping to the carpet and luckily not shooting out any bullets from the impact.

His arms circled me as he picked me up and tugged me to his chest. My sobs were muffled by his shoulder, my tears wetting his shirt. The pink pyjama dress didn’t cover enough skin that I would have been sheltered from his body heat. 

He sat on the bed, keeping me in his lap. I cried silently as his hands drew circles on my back, soothing the inner fears of mine. His warmth, his arms, his embrace was the thing I truly had missed the most. A piece of me had been left behind in his arms and I had never been able to retrieve it. Now it was more stuck on him. 

His steady breathing, heartbeats that didn’t skip any beats, calmed me down. I layed down, my sobs dying out and still he moved his hands on my hair, on my skin. It was like a reflection of the times we had shared. A silence which didn’t bother and gentle touches which left eternal traces to our souls. A murmur of coherent words reached my ears but I did not want to break the spell on us. I didn’t need to understand him at that moment. All I wanted was to feel the peace again I had never experienced with anyone else. The words were so quiet they weren’t probably even meant for my ears. 

“Will you hold me while I sleep?”, after a moment I let the forbidden question out. A hard step in our current situation that would shift things towards something I maybe would run away from later on. The consequences were blurred in my mind as only the current moment was important. The need to cling onto him in search of security. His love was a drug I couldn’t resist. 

Without hesitation, he slipped under the covers, tucking me in beside him. The warmth cocooned me in, lured me to fall asleep.“I missed you in my bed, in my arms”, his gentle murmur cleared up for a moment. 

Before I closed my eyes, before my mind shut down, I whispered another sentence that shouldn’t have left me. “I missed you too.” 

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Are they moving too fast? I'm not sure cause I'm just here like "maybe you should simply fuck and make it better already". I'm restraining myself lol.

Vote and comment, merci <3