The Snowy-haired Genius

Chapter twenty-five

I was pressed into Winter's warm body, holding him against me as if letting go would destroy the world. Of course, I wouldn't let him know I was awake- I did have dignity.

He was talking to Victor, who stood by the door. Every few moments, I would feel Winter run his hands through my hair. At one point, he murmured something along the lines of "He needs a haircut."

Annoyed, because I liked my hair the way it was, I "accidently" elbowed him in the stomach a few minutes later, and secretly smiled in satisfaction at his grunt of pain.

When I finally opened my eyes though, Winter was standing up and opening the skylight by pressing a button on the wall. I grumbled as the light shone directly into my face and nuzzled into my pillow. "Turn the lights off." I mumbled.

"I was thinking I could show you something today."

"Okay. What is it? More puppies?" I yawned and scratched my head. All I got in return was one of his dangerously beautiful smiles. "Get dressed, Jacey." He said, ruffling my hair.

I got up and changed into one of Winter's shirts and a pair of jeans. After grabbing a piece of toast, I followed Winter up to his studio. I hadn't really been up here much, but not much had changed. Except for one thing.

On the easel that the painting of my skyscraper used to sit, was now replaced by a finished painting of me. I was clearly asleep and curled up in his fur blanket, my hand tucked under my cheek sweetly. Were my eyelashes really that long? I leant forward a little bit to stare at my rosy cheeks.

There was no way this painting was real. I looked healthier than I had in a long time. The sleep looked peaceful, not full of nightmares like it usually was.

"D-do I really look like that?" I stammered. Was it narcissistic to think I looked good?

"Well, I did leave out the drool." Winter smirked. I blushed a little bit and touched my eyelashes. "Are my eyelashes really like that?"

"Yes. It's all real. I copied a photo I took of you a few weeks ago." He picked up a camera that was beside the painting and showed me the photo. It was almost identical to the painting, and there was barely any of my facial features exaggerated. I actually looked good for once, not like I was on the verge of shooting somebody. Coming to Winter's house was... well, it had actually helped me a lot. I felt wanted for once. It felt like the first time somebody had actually cared for me, and not for my money.

"You've looked a lot better since you came here." Winter told me, leaning down to kiss me. I kissed him back, but to my disappointment we were interrupted by Victor, who was bringing up breakfast. Winter took a bite of his toast. I whined and tugged at his sleeve without thinking.

He looked down at me, smirking. "Wow." He said, chuckling. "You really want to kiss me, don't you?"

I blushed and turned away. "Well, maybe. Whatever." I mumbled and crossed my arms, my cheeks turning pink. I can't believe I whined like that! Jesus, I deserve to be embarrassed every single day of my life.

"Well, you little cutie, I can't right now. I'm eating." He took another bite of his toast. I sighed heavily and pouted.

Only a few moments later, I felt his lips on mine. I smiled into the kiss and tried to kiss him back, but he pulled away and licked my cheek. My mouth fell open and I hit his shoulder. "Winter! You absolute asshole!"

He laughed and moved away as I shoved him roughly. "Stop, stop. I just wanted to see your reaction, I'm sorry."

"You're a dick."

"Oh yes my dear, I know. I often like to imagine mine inside of you." He replied casually. My eyes widened, and my face went even redder, if that was even possible. He laughed again and picked up his paintbrush.

"If you imagine it, then why won't you do it?"

He sighed, probably already regretting the sexual joke he had made. His eyes closed, and he shook his head. "Jace... I... I can't."

"Please, Winter? I want to."

"Look, Jace." He turned back to me, dropping his paintbrush onto the floor. His lips crashed onto mine, making me stumble backwards. I held the back of his neck, not letting go. He managed to pull away anyway and stepped backwards. The look on his face held guilt, not lust or excitement. "Do you know what you have?"

I was confused. My eyebrows creased, and I shook my head, gnawing on my lip. He let out a frustrated groan and pressed his head against the doorframe. "Stockholm syndrome, Jace. You're falling for the person who kidnapped you. It's a mental issue."

"I..."

"You have any idea how guilty I feel, Jace? I can't stop thinking that you're pretending to like me, so you can get out of here." He shook his head and sighed. "I just..."

"Winter." I touched his hand. "I'm not pretending. I promise you I don't have Stockholm syndrome. I really do like you. I don't want to go back to my parent's house. Well, sometimes I do, but I love it here. I love your paintings and your music. I love your voice. I love how you're so messy sometimes. I love how smart you are. I love the food. I love cuddling you. I love... well, I even love Donut. But..." I took a deep breath and pressed my lips against his. "I especially love you."

He looked relieved. "I love you too." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. He hugged him back, pressing my head against his chest.

When we broke apart, he smiled down at me and softly pushed me down onto the couch. "Did I ever tell you about my parents?"

Author's Note:

Ohohoho mysteries are about to get unfolded. Thanks for reading! Have a lovely day, darlings.