When you were here before..
Edgar groaned. After another long and tiring match, the painter's habit of locking himself away from the others in the manor would return. Edgar was never social, not even as a child despite being raised to depend on those around him. The young painter would always find a way to have all the attention diverted onto his work. But now they were all locked up in the prison-like manor, Edgar tried to completely ignore any attention at all. Others in the manor would talk to him, before matches, after matches, as they ate, passing him in the halls- but he would respond with little to no enthusiasm or wouldn't at all. That was until a certain blonde boy had an idea to get the lonely artist to warm up to the others- for his sake.
The slobbery bull terrier known as Wick had waddled up to the painter and frightened him as he was moving some of his art supplies back to his room. Edgar had dropped his things as he felt a nip on his ankle. "What are you doing, you filthy mutt? Look what you've done!" He rolled his eyes and groaned once again, reaching down to rub his ankle. "What's your name, you little... wrinkly ball of slobber..?"
..Couldn't look you in the eye..
A small tap could be felt on Edgar's shoulder as he packed up his things. He turned and locked eyes with a gorgeous blonde man. The painter's eyes widened as he took in the looks of the other. The way his golden locks gently framed his rosy face, the way his lashes curled, the small freckles that splattered his face, the way he could dive into his honey coloured eyes, the faint scent of vanilla that surrounded him, the way his glossy lips parted slightly. He was perfect..
"That's Wick! He's my dog, are you a fan of dogs Mr Painter?"
The taller boy spoke happily, oblivious to the other's astonished stare.
Edgar was too lost in the boy's eyes to form a coherent sentence but he pulled himself together.
"They aren't particularly my favourite.. they all smell."
"Not all of them, Wick gets a nice bath every month!"
The postman chuckled and gently pat the dog's head, cooing at him quietly and listening to his small snorts and grunts. Victor loved Wick dearly.
..You're just like an angel..
As Victor laughed, he took in his looks once again, his bright smile and pink cheeks causing Edgar to avert his gaze away from the boy who would end up being the downfall of his loner facade.
"Come on, let me help you clean up all of this."
The blonde motioned to the brushes and paints that sporadically covered the hallway. Edgar stopped him as he leaned forward to help. Victor turned and quirked his head like a dog as if to ask why not. "It's fine. I can do it on my own." He snapped half-heartedly, he didn't mean it. "But it was Wick who made you drop it all in the first place. Please Edgar I insist, I don't mi-"
..Your skin makes me cry..
"Goodbye now, I can handle it on my own."
Edgar didn't look at Victor as he spoke these words. No trace of venom or hate. Just fear.
But just as the blonde nodded understandably and clicked his fingers to call Wick and walk away, Edgar spoke,
"Wait!"
Victor straightened his back, perking up at the sudden voice. He turned, confused.
"I uh, never got your name.."
..You float like a feather..
A faint blush appeared on the painter's face, he had been introduced to everyone when he first arrived but between only playing matches with certain people and not coming out of his room, he had forgotten most names. Victor smiled,
"Victor Grantz. How about you Mr Painter?"
"Edgar. Edgar Valden."
..In a beautiful world..
"Well, I'll see you around, Edgar."
Edgar's name rolled off of Victor's tongue nicely. He smiled.
"Yeah, I'll see you around.."
..I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special.
