when heaven and hell meet

thirty four

Saint

♫: snooze -sza

*do not let images I put in this chapter change the way you picture some characters. I don't even have a solid picture to describe what they look like so please imagine them how you'd like.

"Saint stop touching my hair," Luci sighed.

We were on my bed and she sat between my legs while reading a book she had picked from my shelf. I was hardly paying attention to what she was reading since it was a book I had read a plethora of times.

I loved hearing the way she would read. How she stumbled a bit on complex words and how she would read quickly but slow down to make sure I could follow along. I cherished moments like this. Moments where it was just the two of us and no one else to interrupt.

"But I like your hair," I complained. "It's so colorful and soft."

Her hair was a unique shade of red. When it wasn't in braids it was usually put up into a high puff or slick down into a bun. I liked all the hairstyles she did, but those were my favorite.

"That's interesting," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

She closed the book and turned around to face me. "I just remembered how you used to tell me that you hated my hair. All of your friends chimed in too."

I frowned and pulled her braids away from her neck. "I never meant any of that. I never hated you, I just didn't know why I felt like I had to."

"So the angel side of you hated me?" she asked.

I pulled her back into my lap and sighed. I hated revisiting these conversations. My behavior was inexcusable regardless of the reason. A majority of the memories and experiences she had with me were awful. Which was why I was so adamant about replacing those memories with newer and happier ones.

"I guess you could say that," I mumbled. "I wish I could explain to you how it felt. It's like my mind switched whenever I saw you. It was scary because a part of me wanted to hurt you and the other part of me wanted to be around you."

She didn't reply, she instead stared at me quietly. I wish I knew what was going through her head at times.

I scratched the back of my head and felt my cheeks become warm. "I wrote about the first day I saw you. You were wearing a brown top and blue jeans. Your hair was up, and it was back when you wore your glasses every day."

"How can you remember all of that?" she asked. "Does that mean you've always liked me?"

I was not supposed to say that out loud.

"S-sort of um. I mean I guess you could say that" I stammered. "Please don't look at me like that."

She smiled and placed her arms around my neck. "Can I take pictures of you?" she asked.
"Since I have my memory card back I've been going through the pictures I'm going to submit for my portfolio and I kind of want some more... but we don't have to if you don't want to."

My arms settled around her waist and I pulled her up towards me. "As your muse, how could I say no?" I said. "Of course you take pictures of me."

The joy in her eyes was something I didn't miss. They lit up as she got off my lap and opened the curtains. Sunlight blasted through my room since it was still the afternoon. She grabbed the stool that was beside my bookshelf and place it in front of my large window.

"Come sit here," she ordered.

I got up off the bed and sat down on the stool.
Her camera was in her hand, and she rummaged through her backpack before pulling out a small white makeup bag.