Little Things

22- Red

"Did that make you laugh this morning?"

"It did" She's unbelievable.

We don't exchange another word

I park infront of the building and get out, after noticing the amount of cameras facing us, I decide to open the door for her

Her hand slides into mine seamlessly. Too seamlessly.

I hate that we're 'getting used to this'

I never want to fall into routine doing these things with her

Not anymore.

How did I ever enjoy these gestures with her?

It feels like a fever dream, the point in time where I was in love with her. It couldn't have been real, because the idea seems so preposterous now, how could this ever have been normal?

We walk into the studio, our hands intertwined, the heat from her palm spreads through my hand, running up my arm to my spine. The feeling only intensifies the longer we maintain the contact, becoming excruciatingly uncomfortable.

The only contact between the two of us is our hands yet she's managed to cultivate my nerves, strangling my spine and gifting goosebumps to my neck. She's ignorant to the control she contains over me. That somehow makes it even worse. Watching her speak with other people, watching her function with her hand in mine while i'm stood here engulfed by the searing sensation that is her skin against mine.

"Mr. Leclerc, can you come this way so we can get you into the first outfit" Thank god

I turn to find a short woman with a clipboard, I nod almost too eagerly, letting go of Alethia's hand in an instant.

I can finally breath again.

I've found that every time she's to close to me, it's like my body can sense her, instantly feeling uncomfortable without fail.

I used to think it was guilt, or all the what ifs. Now I know it's hatred.

Hatred for the way she captivates a room, drawing attention to herself instantly. Hatred for her laughs contagious tendencies, or the way she gets flustered when receiving a compliment. Hatred for how her eyes can pull you into them, and her bodies warmth's ability to make someone melt.

Everything she does is toxic, even the good things.

"Mr. Leclerc, are you ready for the first shoot?"

"Yes, I'll be out in one moment" I fix the collar of the dress shirt in the mirror, looking at myself.

It's just a few photos. Right?

I step out into the studio, i'm used to the tons of cameras and lights, the cords running across the room, people in chairs each doing their jobs.

I'm used to it all but knowing I not only am taking photos, but am convincing the people in this room that we're in love. The idea of that is already intimidating, but I have to convince the camera, too. I glance over at it, set up in the center facing a backdrop, that device has to capture the essence of a love that's extinct.

I have to light a flame in a body of water.

A once blazing fire now seizes to exist, the only evidence of its existence being the cold glares that accompany her eyes when she looks at me.

And now, four years later, I watch as she walks out from a door, dressed in the outfit provided for her.

It's red.

The same shade as the Ferraris we drive. The same red as the skirt she wore on our first date. The same red as the lipstick she once tried to force me to put on late at night under the stars. All I can see is red. The red of haunted memories, influenced by a color I used to adore, especially when correlated to her.

I see red as my ears replay the sound of her laugh as she held my chin, applying the makeup to my lips. I see red as my back gets chills just as I had when she opened her hotel door, wearing that skirt.

I see red as her hand runs up my chest, settling on my shoulder. But this isn't a memory, this is now.

Red isn't of the love stained memories of the past, but now of the blood stained actions of the presence.

Words: 1121

I'm really proud of this chapter so I hope you all enjoy <3

My wattpad is finally fixed thank god!!!

And happy Easter to those who celebrate :)