What was it like to be free?
He often wondered, but it's not like there was anyone who could tell him. We're all bound to something, right?
But, it was as if he could feel it, so close within grasp but never reached. Her eyes were beautiful, in the sun, they had a hew of yellow like the turning leaves of autumn. She laughed, and it was its own harmony.
Harmony.
His eyes opened, leaning up from his pillow, running a heavy hand down his face. Another nightmare, he thought, glancing at the wall that separated them. She was his nightmare, but she was so much like his freedom it was hard to distinguish the two anymore. He let a low grumble from the bottom of his chest, getting out of bed. He swiped the black shirt that lay crumpled on the floor, forcing it over his head. She was already awake, he could hear her through the wall. He walked over to the monitor on his dresser, pressing the button for the screen to come from sleep. She was on the floor, a canvas in front of her, and the dog sitting next to her, who to his intrigue, seemed to have her own smaller canvas.
It looked like Harmony was trying to explain to the dog how to paint, grabbing hold of her little white paw and placing it within the blob of light blue paint that sat between them. She then took the paint-covered paw and placed it against the small canvas, pulling back to leave a blue print. She then seemingly proceeded to try and explain to the dog what it was they had just done as if the animal could understand. As if it would understand anything, its brain is the size of a fucking walnut.
"See!-" she exclaimed in excitement, gesturing to the paw print "Now, you can take your paw print and make a flower!" Harmony leaned over gently, wiping away the paint from her friend's front foot. She didn't get it all, Zuni's fur was white, and she'd need a good bath to get the blue traces out, but Harmony didn't mind. She put the wet cloth to the side, reaching out for the small canvas with the single paw print. She grabbed for one of the paint brushes standing in the multi-colored cup, dipping it in the red on the wooden palette. She started on the toes, creating the inner detail of the forming flower petals.
"This way, you can create your own art!" she rubbed Zuni's bony head.
The moment she heard the shifting of locks on her door, she knew it was him. She turned back as the door opened, sighting him at the entrance. His height was intimidating when she was standing, let alone when she was sitting on the floor and he held over her. He was wearing a pair of ripped black jeans, and a tight black t-shirt that certainly left little to the imagination of what crevices and curves were underneath.
"Come on-" he grumbled, he appeared to be avoiding meeting her eyes, instead he found the wall nearby to stare at "Get ready, or were not going" She looked at him curiously, glancing at his 'outfit', if you could call it that.
"You're wearing black?" she asked, placing the canvas to the side and getting up from the floor in her nightgown.
"I always wear black" was his quick, sharp response, still refusing to look her in the face.
"I was just asking-" she claimed, feeling a little weirded out by his words. She stepped across the floor towards the closet, pulling it open "It's hot outside, black might make us stand out more" She pulled out a nice dress that she had found at the back of her closet. It was loose and breathable, covered in light red flowers outlined by accents of blood.
"I don't care" he retorted
"Well, you probably should-" she peered from the closet, holding the dress in her arms "Wouldn't that attract more attention? Someone might recognize you and call the cops-" she laid the dress on the bed "Or maybe even recognize me, if the police are looking for me that is..." she muttered, looking happily at the fabric
"What is that?" he suddenly appeared next to her, startling her "Where did you get that?" he pointed at the dress.
"I just got it from the closet, you just watched me do it" she claimed, peering up at him with a weird glance
"No, I don't mean-" he tried, but gave up, running his hands across his face. Fucking Lancelot. He was the one that had been in charge of getting her wardrobe, Black and white only! that had been his strict instructions to the old man before he handed him a credit card and kicked him into the elevator. "Whatever" he sighed in defeat
"No one will recognize either of us" he pulled out the pair of black tinted sunglasses from his back pocket, sliding them haphazardly over her ears, settled on the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore how soft the slight brush of her hair was against the back of his palms. She jumped at the sudden contact between them, but was quick to try overlooking it as she tightened grip of the dress, hurrying into the bathroom and shutting the door.
"You wearing black will still attract attention" she exclaimed through the wooden door as she slipped the dress over her head. He groaned, wishing she would just let it go, even though she was probably right. "It's a sunny day, Maxwell" his eyes widened at the sound of his name. He wasn't even sure if she had known his name, but it had been the first time she had heard her speak it. It did something to him.
She came out of the bathroom wearing the dress, pulling down the wrinkles and smoothing it out. Every time he had called her plain and boring, it was now biting him right in the ass.
"It doesn't matter, I don't even have anything that isn't black" he insisted with candor
"Not this-" she retorted, hurrying back into the closet. She pulled out a white button-up shirt, It was his shirt, and it was white. He hesitated, but eventually took it from her hand. Why am I even doing this?! He turned away from her, pulling the black shirt over his head as she went rummaging for a pair of shoes in the closet. Anyone else and he wouldn't let them within five feet of the front doors, let alone escort them into a public place where they could potentially be recognized as a missing person. Granted, this is my first hostage. It was easier to make them disappear rather than hold them hostage.
He turned as she came out of the closet with a pair of dark sandals. He was still doing up the buttons of his shirt as she glanced up happily, clapping her hands together in excitement at the fact that he had simply changed his shirt. He felt naked without black on, he had worn black his entire life. Even that shirt had never been worn, it had always been shoved into the dark depths of his closet never to see the light of day. The one baby picture he still had consisted of him in a black onesie with a little raven hat on. The second he was born, he was properly of Hell's Heaven, and members of Hell's Heaven wore dark shades, that's just how it was.
"Does it look alright?" she asked, referring to the dress. She glanced down to hide her red-tinted cheeks, embarrassed at the fact she was even asking him. She felt nervous, she hadn't worn a dress in a very long time, especially not one this beautiful.
"I mean-" he responded, turning away slightly, not wanting to look at her either "It's fine..." he grumbled, crossing arms against his chest. She grabbed the hems of the dress with nervous hands, fiddling with the soft edges. She wondered if he didn't want to admit he didn't like it, that she looked ugly, that it would be better suited for a woman of his caliber. She pulled the glasses over her eyes, slipped into the sandals, and grabbed Zuni's leash, beckoning the small dog over so she could hook her collar. She gazed up, watching as he pulled his own sunglasses over his eyes, adjusting uncomfortably in the white shirt.
YOU ARE READING
His Angel
Romance"You have a name, don't you?" his voice was deep and irritable, but rather calm. Her eyes lifted just slightly, now staring at the edges of dark hair that hung an inch or two from his shoulders. Her lack of answer seemed to annoy him further, she co...
