Masterpiece [h.s]

nine

Harry's in the middle of painting when his mother calls. She's only been on the phone for about thirty seconds and he's already panicking. The only reason she's called him today is to tell him that his brother is stopping by.

"No. He what!? No, Mum. Call him and tell him to go back home. I don't want him here."

"Sweetheart, you can't be like this forever. I know that he hasn't really been the nicest to you for a while, but he's your brother."

Harry shakes his head and gets paint in his hair because he's lifted his hand to run through the strands with a wet paintbrush in his fingers. "There's more to it than that, Mum. Just—just please get him to change his mind. I can't deal with this right now."

He's too caught up in panicking that he doesn't notice that the one person he doesn't want to see is already in his warehouse, admiring his works that litter the massive space.

"You've still got it, I see. Improved a lot, so my congratulations to you." Sam's eyes glint with mischief as he spots a number of paintings depicting a beautiful woman in various states. "Who might I ask, is this striking muse of yours?"

Harry pales and mumbles a rushed goodbye to his mother before abruptly ending the call.

He's not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to be here. Ever.

Harry ignores the previous question that was directed at him and asks one of his own, his voice harsh and unpleasant to his own ears. "Why are you here?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders indifferently, a bored expression still present on his face. Harry knows that he's doing this on purpose and it's irritating the living shit out of him. "Dunno, thought that I would drop in and say hello. Is there something wrong with that? I thought it was normal for siblings to visit one another."

For any other siblings, yes, but for Sam and Harry? No. Harry and Sam hate each other and visiting has never been on the agenda for either of them. Sam's taunting Harry just because he can.

Harry grits his teeth, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Sam's always had this thing about pissing him off and, ever since Harry learned that he'd enticed many of his former girlfriends to sleep with him, he's been past the point of angry with him.

It also doesn't help that they're identical twins and Sam pretends to be Harry half of the time. He's even gone to the extent of getting identical tattoos.

"Stop. I'm not doing this again. What do you want?"

Sam slowly turns on his heel and starts walking around the room, carefully inspecting Harry's works.

"I want to be your manager. And I was online the other day and happened to stumble upon a video of you and your favorite muse, so I was curious. Are the two of you lovers?"

Harry rolls his eyes and shoves at Sam's chest hard enough to make his point clear. "No, I don't sell most of these and you know that. Yes, she and I are lovers in a sense."

"That wasn't too convincing."

"Shut up and get out. Don't come back either."

Harry holds the door open for Sam, an agitated look on his already hard features.

It's one thing for Sam to simply as him personal things, but he could have done that over the phone. Harry feels violated and vulnerable because of how he's just invaded his space without a single care in the world.

Sam raises his hands in defense, a light laugh passing his lips even though nothing's funny at the moment. "Alright, little brother."

Harry scowls and slams the door the moment Sam steps outside. "I'm not your little brother."