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Edgar Valden is cold and tired. He stands before an unfinished painting that sits crooked on an easel that threatens to give way.
“You’re terrible,” he spits, tossing the paint-covered pallet onto the floor. “So many days, and yet you’re still…” Terrible. Ugly. Lackluster.
Edgar had long since wondered whether he would ever be proud of anything he produced ever again. He missed simpler times when creating art served as a stress reliever, and not a stress inducer. He clenches his fists.
“Ed?”
A voice, and a nickname he detests so very much. Luca , he thinks, setting down his paintbrush.
Edgar opens the door, ignoring the quickening pace of his heart.
“What do you want? I’m busy ,” he snaps, and Luca grins at him sheepishly. Edgar hates it when he grins at him like that. Luca Balsa has a very stupid grin.
“Can I come in?”
“Can I say no?” Edgar mutters, but the man is already in his room.
The two stand in silence, and the painter watches the other’s eyes scan every detail and corner of the room. Luca’s gaze falls upon the unfinished painting that sits untouched beside his unkempt bed. Then Luca asks a question Edgar dreaded answering:
“When did you last sleep?”
“I don’t remember,” Edgar lies. He’s always been so good at lying, and so terrible at saying what he actually thinks. Indecisiveness is a curse, and it haunts him.
He sighs and takes a seat on the bed, and tries to keep his composure when Luca takes a seat beside him. Luca is so close that Edgar could touch him.
So he keeps his hands firmly clasped together.
His legs ache, and he can’t help but wonder about the last time he’d sat down.
They sit in an unresolved silence for a while. He hears Luca sigh from beside him, and expects him to stand up and leave.
He does not.
Edgar’s mind races, outcome after outcome playing in his mind. He creates scenario after scenario, but he can’t predict what will happen next, and that scares him.
And when Luca reaches across and takes his hand, a million more thoughts race through his mind. He thinks about pulling away.
He does not.
“You’re cold,” says Luca. There's a warmth in the man’s voice that is so comforting it frightens Edgar.
Hold me, Edgar wants to say. I’m freezing, so hold me and never let me go.
“Always am,” he scoffs instead.
“Ed…”
I love it when you call me that . “I hate it when you call me that,” Edgar rolls his eyes.
“ Edgar ,” Luca amends, “I’m here because I’m worried about you.” The painter does his best to mask his surprise at those words.
“How so?” Edgar’s voice wavers.
“You’ve been shut away in here for so long doing…” Luca makes exaggerated painting motions with his hands, and Edgar almost smiles. “So I…”
“So the others sent you to check on me? Well, I’m fine,” he says flatly. Luca shakes his head.
“No.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“ I came to check on you. I wanted to see you.”
Edgar’s heart jumps in his chest. Here I am , he wants to say. Stay with me. He can’t find the words to respond, and casts his gaze down to his calloused fingers. He’s trembling, but he doesn’t know why. It scares him.
“You know, Ed,” Luca says. “That painting…it looks incredible.” Edgar follows his gaze to the incomplete painting beside the bed. Just one glimpse of it and his head reels with disappointment.
“What would you know?” Edgar sighs. Luca does not respond, so he continues. “The colours are wrong. And the perspective …”
Luca abruptly clasps a hand over his mouth, and Edgar is shocked. Nobody has ever dared to silence him before, he wants to slap this fool. But he doesn’t.
“I think you need to be kinder to yourself.”
The words themselves feel like a slap across the face, and he flinches. “ Excuse me ? ”
Luca chuckles, “don’t get me wrong, I understand perfectionism. I live it. But when you let it consume your days…when you don’t eat or sleep…that’s not healthy Edgar.”
Edgar can feel the man’s eyes watching him, and part of him wants to meet his gaze. But he can’t. He can’t and it frustrates him. And when he realises Luca’s hand is still firmly gripping his own, his heart threatens to explode.
Edgar fights his racing mind and allows himself to look at Luca for longer than just a simple glance. Luca’s eyes are soft, and for once in his life, Edgar allows himself to be greedy and become lost in them. So many beautiful shades, he finds himself mesmerised thinking about the different stories they could tell.
You’re beautiful.
“You’re stupid,” Edgar croaks.
Luca hums fondly. “I am, indeed.” And Edgar can’t help but feel like he can hear every one of his thoughts.
The air is so warm. Why is it so warm?
Edgar’s lip trembles. He wants to run, just like he always does. He wants to push Luca away, but he also wants to be held all night. He wants to be greedy. He wants to want. But there’s something stopping him.
He thinks he knows what’s going to happen next, and the anticipation frightens him.
Luca’s thumb brushes his knuckle, and Edgar exhales shakily. The man’s grip on his hand tightens for a brief moment, as if to ask are you sure? Edgar responds with a small nod. And it’s then that Luca’s lips meet his own.
The kiss is so gentle, so comforting, and so electric. It reminds Edgar that he is alive.
Thoughts race through his mind, good and bad. He fumbles a lot, unsure as to what is expected of him. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he holds onto Luca’s arms, and he clings on as though his life depends on it.
If Edgar’s touch says ‘ don’t leave me ’, then Luca’s kiss says ‘ I’m here and I’m staying’ .
When their lips finally part, Edgar half expects Luca to apologise or admit to having made a mistake. He doesn’t though, and instead smiles so stupidly that Edgar takes a mental photograph so he can look back on it forever.
I love you . “I hate you,” Edgar mumbles into Luca’s shoulder, and the two break out into a small fit of giggles that makes Edgar feel like a child again. They fall backwards onto the bed, lost in each other’s laughter.
It’s only when his head hits the mattress that Edgar feels how exhausted he is. He casts a glance to the man beside him. Please stay with me , he thinks, I don’t want to be alone.
“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” Luca says, as if he were able to see right through him. Relief fills Edgar’s mind, and he realises something as he closes his eyes.
He’s not so cold anymore.