Just Another Brushstroke

Chapter 28

Angelo's POV

I drug myself up the apartment stairs through the gallery into the living room.  I was exhausted and my back hurt from sitting on the rock hard ground with Jeremy.  That reception went on forever to say the least.

"Hey mother, father." I said and flopped down on the couch.

"Hello, sweetheart, how was it?" My mother asked as she applied lipstick. 

"It was great, well at least till the very end.  Um are you going somewhere?" I asked them as my father put on his jacket.

"Yes we have a classical music concert that we are attending." My father said casually.

"Oh okay." I said and yawned.

This was my typical parents.  They would always go to certain events or places without telling me which is fine since I'm not ten but it still catches me off guard.  My parents waved at me then they left me alone in the apartment.

Being home alone can either be creepy or relaxing.  Tonight it was creepy.  I walked to my bedroom but then stopped by Vincent's door.  I leaned on the doorframe as I looked inside on his room.

Everything was the same.  The paintings on the wall, some were his and others were different painters.  His boring grey walls and carpet.  His collection of snow globes and painting pallets.  I sighed loudly.

Then I heard a loud thunk behind me.  I jumped and whipped around.  It was coming from my room.  I slowly walked into my room and something felt off.  Even though things were where they were supposed to be it looked like some things had been rearranged.  

I turned on my light but no one was there.  My dresser looked disheveled.  My bed looked unmade and there were things on my floor that hadn't been there before.  I was officially scared.  I started picking things up to try and distract myself.

"Angelo." I heard a voice say from the direction of my bathroom.

I screamed like I was being murdered until I saw who it was.  I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably.  My eyes were wide and my mouth went dry.  This wasn't possible.

His hair was blonde and short now.  He had dark circles under his eyes and I could tell he lost a lot of weight.  He held himself up like he was protective and scared of himself.  His arms crossed over his stomach and his head bowed.

Vincent.

We stood there staring at each other for a good five minutes.  His brown eyes looked depressed and malnourished.  He was dressed in black sweatpants with a grey hoodie.   He couldn't be here.  He shouldn't be here.  He looked nothing like he used to.

"What are you doing here?" I said taking deep breaths.

"I wanted to see home even if it was just a little bit.  I wanted to see you and make sure you know I'm okay." His voice was gravelly and laced with exhaustion.  

"You don't look okay." I said honestly.

"I know but I am.  Better then prison I guess." He said and gave him a sad smile.

I went over and hugged him tightly.  I could feel his weight loss in the hug.  The brother who was always high and mighty was smaller then a grain of sand right now.  He held on tightly as if letting go meant he was dying. 

Eventually I pulled back and he smiled at me.  His smile was the same, it would always be the same.  His eyes looked exhausted as if he hadn't slept in weeks.  He most likely didn't.