vibrant

six; the studio

"Thanks," Ophelia quietly mutters, not really knowing what to say, so, she starts rambling about the pieces. She explains some landscapes, an ethereal self-portrait she had almost torn apart with frustration, a few abstracts, and the textured portraits she did of the Pogues with a palette knife last summer. Ophelia grins when Topper inspects her latest painting, "That's Ophelia," She proudly chirps, "From Hamlet. She's also two months of my life, and if this were a gallery, she'd be the most expensive piece here." She also picks up the pair of air force ones and some air pods she's supposed to paint, "The shoes are for Scarlet, she wants me to paint something to do with the Harry Styles album, and the airpods are Kelce's. He wants to do a tribute for the 97-98' Chicago Bulls."

Topper nods, "If I brought a surfboard over, would you-"

"Yeah," Ophelia nods, accidentally cutting the boy off, "Yeah, I could do that. I just charge for some supplies and a bit of a service fee, but it's not bad."

"Right," Topper says, looking around the room. His eyes land on the portraits of the Pogues again, "Actually, forget it," Topper's eyes find Ophelia's again, and all she notices for a second is that they're the wrong shade of blue, "Are we just gonna forget about what happened the other night?"

Ophelia blinks at the blond, stunned for a second, "What?"

"Oh come on, Ophelia."

"No Topper, I-I remember what happened."

"Do you?" Topper asks, crossing his arms over his chest, an unimpressed look on his face, "It seems like you and your Pogues don't seem to remember your psycho boyfriend holding a gun to my head. Your move broski."

Ophelia's jaw drops, and she stammers out a response, "He's not my- uh, Jj's not my boyfriend, Topper."

"Did you know he had the piece?"

"Yes, but that's not important," Ophelia says, "I-I remember you throwing the first punch, and-and then literally trying to drown John B," Topper rolls his eyes, "I remember you not stopping even though everyone was screaming at you, so Jj did what he had to do and-"

"Oh, so you think I deserved the gun to my head?" Topper snaps.

Ophelia's eyebrows draw down in frustration, "I never said that."

"But it's what you meant-"

"God," Ophelia seethes, snapping, "Stop playing the victim, Topper."

Topper's jaw clenches, and Ophelia looks down at her fingers. She's not one for confrontation, in fact, she barely ever raises her voice. But, she'd do anything to defend her friends. So if Topper thinks he can slander her friends in front of her and she'd just roll over; He's dead wrong.

"Whatever," Topper spits, "Let's just smile, get through this dinner, and then stick to our sides of the island."

Opelia raises a brow, "Topper I live on Figure-"

"Pogues belong on The Cut," Topper spits, heading to the door and leaving the room. Ophelia rolls her eyes, muttering a string of curse words as she follows Topper down the stairs, pasting on a fake smile for the sake of her dads. She looks at the old clock on the wall, suddenly wishing Jj and the Pogues were there to bail her out of the dinner.

--

The meal is great, and Ophelia only speaks when spoken to. She listens to Cynthia and Medicine Dad joke about people at the hospital, Topper's Dad questioning Art Dad about the validity of his PhD (To which Michael had clapped back, asking about the validity of the Thorton man's job, thank god the wine-filled Cynthia laughed instead of starting an argument), and the parents trying to include and brag about their children as much as possible. Unfortunately for Topper, Ophelia is a better student than he is. This meant Ophelia had a smug look on her face, and Topper sent her glare through the entire meal.