Please comment as you read, especially on this chapter!!
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My jaw hung open in complete shock as my hand covered my mouth entirely. This is Harry's room. This is where he would go each time we would fight. Into this dark sanctuary of pure bliss. I can understand why he wouldn't want me in here now. It was obvious.
The right side of the room, where the door was, had been just like any other bedroom. Maybe a bit darker due to the black paint on the walls but for the most part, it was normal, including a black bed set, a side table, and a couple drawers here and there. He had another door which I assumed it to be a closet and a balcony that was much bigger than my own.
On the left side of the room, however, held something that could no else way be described as his little secret. His inside world on wonder and self- confinement. This was his escape from reality. This is what kept him going as I was fighting against him during my stay. This is what he didn't want me to see.
Art.
Large white canvases littered the entire left side of the enormous room. Some on easels only half painted, some laying on the floor, some barely laying on the cluttered art table, or some stacked in a pile against the wall. All over the place was various arrays of paintings, drawings, spray paint, and sorrow.
The wooden art table had been coated in small paint splatters that must have dried over time. Paints, pencils, colored pencils, and other art supplies were thrown all over the top of the table while blank canvases were shoved in stacks underneath. It was amazing, truly amazing.
I looked at Harry to see that he had moved out from behind me and sat nervously on the bed. His legs were open and his elbow were rested heavily on his knees. His expression held a tight firm hold of normality but I can see it in his eyes, his mind was going crazy.
"I- I..." I began but couldn't get the words out. How in any way am I supposed to voice my thoughts.
"Didn't expect it" he said nervously, trying to lighten the thick air. I shook my head and looked all around the room.
"Does anybody else know about this, about your artistic abilities?" I asked as he began to play with his fingernails.
"Luchesi" he commented making me suddenly remember why I was in here.
I nodded and bit my lip, turning around to face the paintings once more. He seemed to like to paint more considering there were very few sketches laying around. I walked closer to one of easels to get a closer look at something that seemed to be finished.
It was a girl. From the point of view, she was much smaller than her observer. Her hazel eyes were wide and doe like as her puffy pink lips had been sitting in an innocent pout. Her long brown hair framed her pale face and her hands were by her sides. This girl looks familiar.
"Harry, is this me?" I asked pointing to the painting I was looking at.
"You're interesting to perceive, Ara" he said right behind me. I whirled my body around to see him right behind me, rubbing his hand on his neck.
I turned back to the painting and studied it for a moment. For the first time in my life, I saw the true me. No pictures of reflections from mirrors. This was me, this is how people saw me. My stomach fluttered and before I knew it, my arm was tugged away from the beautiful artwork.
"You're here to find out who Luchesi is, look at this" he demanded, setting me in front of a gloomy easel.
The picture showed a boy, a younger boy, maybe not even past 5 years of age. His eyes were bright green and his blonde hair had been pulled from his forehead by a man much much bigger and older than him. The man had been packed with rage and anger as he dragged the boy down. I gasped looking at the painting.
"Is that Luchesi?" I asked.
"When he was younger, yes" Harry said making me nod along. "Can you guess who that is?" he said pointing the man who was dragging him.
I gasped and pointed to Harry. "That's you!" I said making Harry's eyes widen and his head shake.
"No! No, Luchesi is older than me" he said making me sigh in relief. "Try again, what would be more realistic" he said making me furrow my eyebrows.
"His father?" I asked making Harry nod meekly. I looked back at the painting and shook my head. "How does this have anything to do with you?"
"This doesn't, but its the first of a series of paintings" he said nodding towards the other easels. "Come here" he said pulling my arm to the next painting.
This painting had the same blond boy, this time he was older, maybe 7 years old and much more mature looking then he had in the first picture. This time he had been the dominate one in the picture. is muscles were flexed as his hands were wrapped around something, around someone.
In the large palms was a boys body, mainly their neck. Luchesi's face in the painting had been menacing and full of rage. The young boy he was strangling held a familiar mop of brown curls and innocent green eyes, similar to the ones in the painting of me. The face, frightened and too afraid to defend himself, much different from the man standing next to me.
"That's you" I said quietly, not wanting it to be true.
"Yes, Luchesi was rowdy and loved to pick fights" he said making me whimper and reach back for Harry's hand. I grasped onto his muscular arm for a last effort plan of protect. "You see where he got it from"
I looked at the details on the painting as the expensive paint told a story Harry was unable to. It was beautiful, truly astonishing. I looked at Harry and began walking towards the next easel, with his hand laced into mine. His warmth followed me and stopped right behind me.
The picture before us held emotion and hurt from Harry's heart. The picture had an older Luchesi and Harry, maybe 9 or 10 years old. The man from the first picture had been back, this time much older and seemingly larger, body wise. The two boys stood behind the man as the man had been bending down, to face a figure.
The figure had been a women, maybe no more than 30 years old. She was curled into a ball as bruises covered her body as well as both of her sons. Her face had been pained and tired, tired of what she was put through. The man had hovered over her and was yelling at her. My thoughts assumed that the boys were trying to help, but they weren't.
Instead the boys were following the mans footsteps. They were to yelling at the women sitting in the pile of sadness and despair. The three guys were ganging up on the women as she was trying her best to stay calm. Her arms were above her head in an act of protect, she was scared.
I studied the older man and his side profile features, his eyes had matched his sons, yet they were more threatening and deviant. His hair was a lighter shade of brown and had fallen into his face. He looked more like a gang member than a father to me.
"Is that Luchesi's mother?" I asked making Harry nod sadly.
"Yes, that is his mother" he said running his spare hand through his curls.
"You yelled at his mother?" I asked accusingly, making Harry sigh. His hand left mine, making me want to let out a whine in protest.
Instead of saying anything at all, Harry had pulled one of the frames from off of the floor and into my hands. The painting was of a person, a man actually. By the way the expensive paint had been faded at the edges, showed it was much older than the others.
"Who is this?" I asked making Harry's eyes shut.
"My father" he said making me gasp.
Then I saw it, the hair that had broken curls at the bottom had matched Harry's as well as his eyes. The nose on the man was not exactly the same but his lips had been just as plump as Harry's himself and set into an almost permanent scowl. I tilted my head to the side while examining the painting. Why is he showing me this?
What did this man do to Harry that made him so angry? What did these people do to corrupt the little boy that had done nothing to deserve it? How did they become so important that Harry painted about them? I need to know these answers now.
I looked back at the painting of the easel and back at the one in my hands. How did this have any significance as to who Luchesi was, I know Luchesi's parents and Harry's dad, but that doesn't give me any evidence as to who he is and what he did to Harry. Or does it?
I looked at the two painting side by side before finally seeing it, finally seeing a similarity. The older man in the painting that was scaring off his wife had looked exactly like the man in the picture in my hands. I looked at Harry with confused eyes before clutching the end of the canvas.
"Harry, these two men are the same" I said making Harry nod.
"I know" he commented making me almost collapse on the floor.
The breath in my lungs had seemingly deflated from my body as the big picture was beginning to come together. The answer to all my questions were beginning to appear and all it took was four amazing paintings done by a broken man. I gasped and look at Harry with wide eyes.
"Luchesi, h-he.. he's..." I began, searching Harry's face with frantic eyes.
"My brother, Luchesi is my brother"
A/N:
hahahahahah look what happened!!!!!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!!!! LOVE YOU!
This chapter is rushed because of Superbowl and stuff so yeah!
make sure to comment and vote!!