I dragged the thin brown brush along the canvas, thoughts of Mammon painting my own. "There. It's nothing a little white paint can't fix."
Her hooded amber eyes glimmered as she admired the rejuvenated face. "Wow! It looks perfect now. The eye was really bothering me..."
Albeit she fixated her attention to drawing the eyes, it came out rather crooked—so I redid it for her. And I must say, it was difficult not to add more detail to it. The tawny eyes nurtured no slashes of dark brown, or pale pinkness around it, just an off-center white trapezium. I hadn't held a brush in centuries, yet my skills would rush back in when I did, like the old child of a parent. "You seem to really like painting. Why?"
It was nothing like what I used to paint. It was a portrait of an elfin woman with black hair framing her face—other women stood behind her, but the eye would discard them. She was eating a purple hyacinth for some odd reason, but blood surrounded her thin lips.
"My...mom used to paint a lot," Marie answered awkwardly. "I guess I do it to be close to her, even though her paintings always made me cry as a child."
My brows furrowed, and an aching bolt struck my core. I had heard of what happened to the victims vaguely. Some left their child at the threshold of a church, or simply an alley. Others kept them, but were still caught in his web, regardless of the comfort Ezekiel laid their core in. "They made you cry?...That's terrible. Art isn't something to be feared."
She laughed. "It's fine. It would have affected, um, a regular child, but I'm...no regular child."
"I'm sorry..." A golden band, ribbon-like in its movement, with widened eyes on it left my wrist and slithered to hers. No child deserved to feel such pain. Even as demons, they were still innocent.
The woman inhaled, and accompanying her breath came a happiness. She smiled at me as the band pulled away. "Besides, you haven't asked me what this painting means."
I gazed at her, as light from the window beside us brightened her eyes. "Well, what does it mean?"
Marie paused and her eyes flitted to the dark painting. She seemed unprepared, even though she wanted me to ask. "Eating your own pain."
Confusion sat heavily on my brows whilst she set the brush on the black teapoy. It added even more to the sinistrous sentence, like the sharp concluding note of a piano.
"You don't have anyone to share it with. And even the people you do, they'll spit it out-"
And say that it was disgusting. That you were disgusting. I looked towards the shady wooden floor. Even if they hadn't, you would still feel disgusting afterwards. I told Mammon everything. My life in Heaven. Mikkel. Kallista. My parents. The arrow of jealousy I felt seeing thrones in the first sphere. The boy. I spilled every odd, painful feeling in my being out to him. But now, he was the reason for all my pain.
Was it the Lord's mercy? Was this the price I would pay, in return for an escape from him? I didn't know anymore.
"Um...Luka?"
I just wanted to go back to his grace.
"Luka!"
A flinch caught my wandering mind, and I saw the pity in the brunette's face. "I'm...sorry. I zoned-"
Marie sighed before giving me a knowing look. "You were thinking about him...weren't you?"
Listening to her say that made me feel pathetic. My mouth opened, craving to challenge it, to tell her something different, but it was the poignant truth. "Yeah."
"You shouldn't keep your pain in." She sat back down on the bed, patting the cedar flower bedsheet for me to join her. "Tell me...about him."
"He was the only one I truly loved," I muttered as I flumped on the bed. "I felt love before but this...this was different. It was unconditional, like...it would never end."
"He even got a tattoo for me...and he was so happy when I first told him I loved him." I bit my bottom lip in anguish as I tugged the long black sleeve. "Is that not true love?..."
Although I didn't need it, he had fought for me—in the nightclub, and even with Victor, his own best friend.
"I could live without him. But I can't live, knowing it was a lie."
"You can live, because it wasn't a lie," Marie replied and placed her hand on mine, streaks of black paint covering them. "Mammon did love you, there's no way he didn't. All of the things he did for you, you don't do that unless you love someone. He must've been scared."
"Scared of what?" I despised harkening to that excuse. "We went through so much together already...and I told him I was there for him no matter what!"
I glimpsed at the brunette. "Could you still love a person if they killed someone?"
Her eyes widened and her lips fell away from each other. A vague sweat materialised on her forehead as she croaked, "No..."
"I did." I squeezed her hand, closing my eyes before imagining the sight again. "He told me what he did, and I still felt so much love for him."
I opened my eyes once I felt her shiver. She was looking to the side, protecting her honey orbs from the tears. I felt panic shoot up in my stomach. Did I hurt her? "What's wrong Marie?"
My fingers slid under her chin to make her look at me, "What pain are you hiding?"
She shook her head, and a tear wheeled down her cheek. "You'll...never look at me the same."
I knew immediately what this was about.
"That's not true! What you did, it doesn't define you. You must have been under some sort of pressure...or pain."
A quiet whimper broke from her throat as did her body into mine. I felt my shoulders stiffen whilst I stroked her head. I shouldn't have overshared like that. I should have taken the hints.
"I didn't- mean to...," Marie cried. "She just- kept throwing things..."
"It's alright. I'm not mad at you..." My core twisted further when she held me closer. I was supposed to take care of others, protect them, heal them. Yet before I stood, weeping over a man who did not love me. I couldn't see the pain swallowing her features. "It isn't your fault, you were just a child."
How long had she kept this in? The golden band meandered out again and wrapped around her body, lids of the eyes drooping as if heavy with her sadness. Did she even tell Victor? "I've got you now."
We remained close together for awhile before Marie let go, huffing a few times before gazing at me. "Thank you...for not judging me."
"Never."
She crafted a determination from the cold air around us. "I have to go, um, prepare the shop before the customers arrive. Do you want to...help? It'll get our minds off things..."
I smiled, "I'd love to."
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩 𓂋 𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
I tied the lilac strings of the apron as I walked carefully down the sepia floating stairs. In the middle of it was the name of her shop—Bloom Café & Art—in lace white. Below it, was a paintbrush atop a teacup. I thought it was cute how she incorporated her favourite colour into her shop.
"Look, she posted a picture..."
"Is he being fucking serious?!" I could hear Victor exclaim behind the tiered steel shelves of boxes. I halted on the step. Was I walking into something I shouldn't have?
"Lower your voice, Victor," Marie whispered sternly.
"No! I can't believe this fuckwit! And she seriously went back to him?!"
"Went back to who?" I questioned meekly, coming away from the railing. The siblings looked at me in concert, one in shock and the other, anger. The tall man grabbed the black phone from his sister, and readily shoved it in my face.
Everything was silent, except the resounding beating of my core in my ear. I inched closer to the phone, albeit I could see it perfectly—like my eyes hankered to chastise me for falling in love. It was a dim photo. Pink lips were pressed against his cheek, but he was looking away. Strands of blonde covered her ear. And then, a heart tattoo I recognised all unduly well.
"Well?" the demi returned to my silence.
Sober, I peered up at him and smiled coldly. "I told you so."
Victor winced, but it wasn't because of fear; he was surprised at how I took the photo. If only he felt the tempestuous storm raging in my stomach, and how the waves of ire skirmished with the clouds of distress. "You're not going to do anything?"
I cocked my head slightly to the side. "What is there to do? Mammon moved on..."
"Then you should too!" His deep voice reverberated throughout the storage room. "Take a photo of us Ri."
He handed the phone back to the flustered brunette before musing me, settling in the few inches between us. Like stems under too much sunlight, I began to shrink. "Kiss me, Luka."
"What?!" Marie and I both shrieked before a writhing redness slunk to my cheeks. I pushed him away, but it seemed like the air was piqued by this and I fell back.
Victor's tan arms lapped my waist, "Oh come on, we have to make him jealous! I'm not gay so it doesn't even count!"
"So?! I'm not kissing you Victor!" I squirmed in his hold, pressing my palms against his resisting chest.
The umber door creaked open suddenly, so as not to witness this lewd scene anymore. We both looked up, frozen, like a camera had flashed and trapped us in a photo. There a woman was, sizing us both up with brown eyes, her quirked lip level with her disbelief.
Her inky side bangs shook with her head—like this was his wont—before hanging her cream tote bag on the coat rack behind Marie, who smiled at her apologetically. The demi swiftly let go of me, and I reposed myself on the cold grey steel. "It's not what it looks like, okay?"
"It's exactly what it looks like," Victor countered, making my eyes spring to glare at him.
The woman pulled the telling purple apron out of the bag and my brows lifted. She was an employee here? "I don't care. At least do it when I have caffeine in my system."
"Trouble sleeping again Sol?" Marie asked as she went to tie the apron.
"Not this time, I stayed up all night studying for a maths exam...which I probably failed anyway. Thank God for Christmas break."
"Why don't you just drop out?" Victor interjected, his forearm propped on one of the smaller open boxes.
"Victor..." the brunette sighed.
"And become someone who hits on their sister's employees?" Sol laughed. "I'll take my chances with the german education system."
The demi rolled his eyes at her remark, "We were trying to make someone jealous, for your information."
Sol laughed even harder. "Oh yeah? Why would anyone be jealous of you?"
"My height," he replied, winking.
"Five three is average height you cunt!"
"Yep." Victor pivoted on his heel. "Call me when you want extra inches."
"Dick," she hissed.
"Ignore him, he's just trying to get to you," I started as Marie opened the white door to the shop.
"And he always does..."
All of the dome pendant lights over the counter turned on before the brunette coasted to the drink station. "I'll make us all some coffee, you guys introduce yourselves!"
Sol hopped up on the rectangular counter whilst my eyes drank the scenery. A light red brick wall hid the steel shelves from spotlight, in lieu giving it to the diverse machines—blenders, espresso machines, coffee grinders—and metal jugs. Wooden shelves watched over Marie, with white saucers and small cups ready for her. Adjacent to the shelves was a chalkboard working as a menu.
"So you're the new employee...," she began, her denim clad legs swinging lightly. "I didn't quite catch your name."
"Luka."
"My name's Sloan, but call me Sol. It sounds prettier. Anyway, you like the place?"
I had to admit, this café was much nicer than the other places I had went to. "Yeah. It's really nice."
The savour of fresh coffee seemed to liven the place even more; the different paintings of purple flowers on the walls bloomed ever so slightly. But I frowned. I wondered if...Mammon ever planned to bring me here.
"Why'd you decide to work at Bloom?"
"Well." I leaned against the counter. "I got out of a bad breakup, and wanted to get my mind off things."
"I heard...is that why Vick tried to kiss you?"
I nodded solemnly, ensuing a shudder from her. It was surprising how I didn't shudder alongside her.
"You know there are hotter guys in this town than him like...Henri..." Her head tilted to the side as if the thought of him beared upon her skull.
"He's so much older than you, Sol." Marie frowned, her fingers looped around the thick cups, steam slow waltzing above.
"So what? He's hot, and I can give him something better than oat milk."
"Sol!"
"You mean...coffee?" I asked innocently whilst the opaque warmth hit my lips.
Setting down her cup on the grained counter, the woman smiled at me devilishly but quickly turned to the demi occupied with her painted bevy of keys. The sight helped me quash a shudder. She had painted any surface that her eyes reeled in—including the grey pot with the texture of sand paper on her nightstand. Though, I was sure it filled the cactus with joy. "You know I like my coffee cold like my heart, right?"
"You say that, but I know your heart's all warm inside." The brunette pinched Sol's cheek before coasting around the counter.
"I hate that woman..."
I looked at her strangely but laughed, once I saw her childish frown. "You say that, but you know she lights up your heart."
"Not you too..." Her brows lowered, watching as I sipped more of the coffee, and that was when the tissue of my mind blotted her welling aura. She was happy, content with her days. I hadn't felt that from someone in a while. It was redolent of memories I kept from Heaven—but even so, those blissful images felt made up. How could I return to such joy, when my core was burdened by what they had seen here.
"Cool tattoo." She pointed to the eyes on my wrist.
I had forgotten that they were visible, "Oh, thank-"
"Luka!" Marie called out from the supplies aisle, and I nearly choked. "Could you bring the box by the door here?"
"S-sure!" Chugging the last bit of my coffee, I strode to the ajar door and reached for the taped box adjacent.
"Looks like your job starts now. We'll talk at break?"
"I'd like that." I fixed my hands under the hefty box before walking across the parquet floor to the brunette.
"What's in here?" I asked, planting it on the ground beside the tiered acrylic paints, made evident by the purple sign aloft. The oil paints were to the other side, and facing them were the sketchpads.
"Paints, pencils and um, other things. Your job is to put them on shelves!"
"That sounds easy enough."
Marie took the frighteningly long scissors off of the stack of sketchpads, and dragged it through the brown tape. "Yeah, I didn't want to trouble you with too much work."
"I'm happy to help, don't worry." I crouched down, taking the scissors from her as she pulled away the cardboard flaps. "Sol seems really nice. How did you guys meet?"
"She's um, one of my friend's sisters. She'd always come here for coffee, and well...now she works here!"
We both laughed.
"Hey! No laughing on the job!" We heard her shout from the counter, and our laughing was much louder.
"We should probably listen to her." The brunette giggled, straightening her apron as the sight of a customer entered my peripheral view. "If you need any help, call me."
"I got it." I bent down again to unload the paints, the straight line of my lips erased to show a smile instead. I pushed the ultramarine tubes onto the rack. Who would have thought that shelving art supplies could be so...fulfilling?