Rich Bastard {mxm}

Ten.

"Broke people always like to pretend that they're rich," -C.T

I hadn't had a nightmare in such a long time.

Well, that would be a lie. 

I had them a lot when I was younger, but then they stopped. For some reason, they came back and it was getting harder to get under control. Sure, I wasn't afraid of my father as much as he liked to think I was, but the subconscious part of me still clung to those memories.

I didn't know why. There was no need to when the damage was already done.

"so..." Vivi poked me as I looked up at her from my painting. "What?" I scowled in annoyance and she smirked as if she was getting ready to tease me. "Someone on your mind?" She questioned and I stared at her as if she was stupid. "What? I'm not thinking about anyone," I rolled my eyes, knowing it was the truth. My mind was as blank as it could be, as it always was when I painted. I liked to be in a neutral state of me so that my works could be as beautiful as me.

"I don't think that's true," Vivi said, pointing to my painting. "You're painting the silhouette of Joaquin again," She tilted her head and I stared as if she grew snakes on her head, really coming to the conclusion that I should just off myself so I didn't have to deal with this—whatever this was. 

"Time to throw this one away then," I kept my face as neutral as possible, not wanting to show how much it bothered me and antagonized my soul. Why the hell was this individual on my mind? I thought nothing of him. Well, at least the painting was as plain as he was, so he should be grateful that someone took the time to paint him and how irrelevant he was. "No, I want to keep it," Vivi piped up in all seriousness. "This one is better than the first," She took the portrait from me. "You actually painted a night sky and outlined his figure in white. You actually put more effort into this," She pouted up at me and I grunted, not wanting to hear the words that were coming out of my mind.

"Well, I guess it beats me having to waste my energy to go put it in the dumpster," I drawled. I was sure that dumpster had millions of germs in it, considering poor people raided it almost every single day. 

"What do you think of Joaquin?" She asked me as I sat down on the couch with a ruffled mind, trying to figure out what to draw next. "Who?" I replied incredulously. I really had no clue as to who she was talking about. "Joaquin, you know Tomas's friend, the one who spilled that juice all over you?" She raised a brow as she gave me more hints and I frowned, having minor PTSD of the occurrence.

"Oh him."

"Yeah, him."

"What about him?" 

Vivi rolled her eyes, probably finding a sense of irritation with me. "Do you like him?" I fixed her with a stern stare, hoping that it would convey all that I had to say. 

"What an interesting question, Vivienne," I rolled my eyes as I thought of something else to paint. "I have no reason to like or dislike him. Wait, that was a lie," I snorted, thinking of all the times he made moves for me to detest him. I had nothing to think about what's-his-name because he didn't matter to me, so I didn't know why she was asking me.

"You know," Vivi sat on the stool in front of me, fixing me with such a look that made me think that she had something on her mind. "We've been friends for twenty years and yet," She bit her lip. "I have never seen you cry. I have never seen you upset to the point where you were violent. I have never seen you talk about your feelings," She let her head drop and I could hear the gut-wrenching sorrow in her voice, see the gears turning in her head as she wondered when it all went wrong. "You used to smile a lot, even speak in that broken accent that you used to have," I said nothing but let her continue on.