▬▬ 𝕳ockney's unique eyes flickered from his unfinished sketch and to your unbothered form. The H/C haired girl sat across from him. Her arm lazily plopped on the chair and her worn out legs on top of the table.

It tempted the artist to raise his voice; The blacksmith has been giving her roommate the silent treatment for days now. Hell, He even lost count because the silent treatment was going on for what felt like a century to him.

He's tried his best to analyze where he went wrong, but nothing came to mind. I mean, she's probably mad that he ate some of her ice cream, but she never gives him the cold shoulder whenever she finds out about it.

The fair skinned male tried his best to go through the highs and lows of his mental gymnastics, yet he realized there's no point in speculating. It was best to ask the person herself what the source of the problem was.

"Y/N..." He questioned as he silently wished that his roommate would look him in the eye again but, alas, the wish never became his reality.

"Yeah?" she responded and rubbed her nose whilst maintaining to avoid eye contact with her roommate, which he longed for.

"Can we talk?"

"Well, we're talking."

Despite the annoying reply, the boy went on with the conversation. He had no choice but to be assertive if he wanted to find out where he went wrong or there would be no resolve to the issue.

"Look, I don't understand why you're avoiding me. Can you at least tell me what I did wrong? And make amends afterwards?" Hearing the male's words made the Goliath of a girl's heart soften.

Trust her, she wanted to tell him everything. Heck, she could tell him everything she knew, but she's scared to say a word. She's scared that a word she'd say might infect him with her curse.

He might not know what was going on, but it was best it stayed that way. You'd rather he know nothing for his safety and his cursed free life.

"Well, whatever you're going to say next is bullshit, that I can assure you." Y/N replied while rolling her eyes at him in an act of annoyance. For a mere second, she saw his face contour into hurt, then his white brows furrowing in frustration.

"I didn't even finish-" The painter tried to interrupt, but he interrupted her once again.

"You were going to assume I was using you, am I right or am I correct?"

For an abrupt moment, Hockney was in a state of confusion. He doesn't know where that question came from but he can assure you that the question made no sense to him. Since when did Y/N use him? And since when was she ever right about anything?

"The other option is supposed to be wrong-" He corrected.

"Well, the point is you're wrong." The blacksmith stated her statement so strongly that David felt as though it was powerless to butt in any further.

"Then talk to me." The artist pushed through, but it was followed by silence from his roommate.

A simple answer and a simple request, yet a hard act for someone like Y/N. It's difficult because swallowing back one's pride is almost like swallowing the most rancid drink in the world; It's an impossible challenge, but it needs to be done with.

"I don't understand why you won't talk to me. I've already shared everything about me to you, yet you are incapable of doing the same thing." The painter didn't hesitate to spit the harsh truth right at her face.

The blacksmith scoffed at the truth. The truth wasn't slanderous, but she believed that some aspects of it were slander, most likely because her pride refused to listen to Hockney's words.

"Why is it so difficult for you to open up?" He hissed the question unintentionally, pinching his pencil a little hard, which earned their tense atmosphere a small crack.

"Why the hell are you so broken up about this? We aren't even in a relationship or anything." The horned girl crossed her arms at him, followed by her facial features shifting into an angry expression.

"We aren't in a relationship but I am worried for you." His softness not only weakened the girl, but it also made a strange feeling bloom within her chest.

An unknown feeling that made her relieved that finally someone saw her as someone worth worrying about. A feeling that made her feel special. The idea of saying feeling even made a group of shivers cheer along your skin. As her eyes widened at the realization because, Y/N finally realized what that feeling was. She felt loved.

In denial of said feeling, she continued on with the act; still adamant to not get her roommate involved with her problems.

"Worried? HAH! I'm doing better than fucking ever." The girl boomed back, which Hockney mistook as evident anger on her part.

"If you're doing better, then why didn't you tell me about Vihaan's death?"

The former spear bearer went silent. A glimpse from her haunting past still looming over her head. Despite everything she's done to run away or get over her trauma, she doesn't have a choice but to be stuck living in the past.

"Unlike you, some of us are busy grieving."

This time the blacksmith wasn't putting up an act. For a moment, all she ever thought about was the past which affected her uncaring body language and tone.

The girl's once lazily positioned arm was now hugging her other arm, followed by her eyes softening, as sadness began building up within her. Grief now lacing her eyes along with her body language.

Hockney could tell that she was being genuine and she wasn't putting up an act anymore but still, he was annoyed with her stubbornness. At the thought of his frustration, he gritted his teeth, refusing to let his poisonous words come out without thinking twice.

"I'm done."

"Done? You have started nothing!"

David's annoyance was increasing as each word was woven with sarcasm, along with the sarcasm increasing with each new statement that comes off her mouth. But, he managed to keep his patience intact despite wanting to rip her lips off.

"No, I'm done being your roommate."

Your eyes widened at his words. What have you done this time? How the hell were you gonna fix this?

"I'm leaving the 40th floor so I can continue climbing the tower; I'll ride the next hell train that's coming in a few weeks."

"I've already left my share of the bills in my drawer. You can use that to pay the bills. You can sell some of my paintings as well while you're at it." The artist ended then looked straight into Y/N's widened eyes.

For the first time, her eyes were looking into his eyes, looking for a string of lies in his words. Words couldn't express how surprised, no, how shocked Y/N was. Surely, she was hearing things, right? She must have misheard what Hockney said, right?

Despite how much the girl was in denial, she knew what she heard. Even if she were to question the genuinity of her hearing, it would be pointless because she knew her hearing wasn't bad. What the blacksmith should be questioning is her roommate's sanity.

"Are you mad?"

"I'm mad? Of course, I am! I'm mad that my friend doesn't trust me enough to open up but, I can assure you that you aren't the reason for my departure." He reassured, his unique eyes gazing at his unfinished sketch longingly.

From this point on, the horned girl quickly discarded the unbothered act, she was now looking for answers. The sadness from before was pushed in the back of her head, now focused on the issue before her; She had to convince him to not leave or else he'd die.

"Then why?"

"I'm leaving because I'm searching for one of my old paintings." He replied, still looking at his sketch longingly, not noticing the blacksmith gritting her teeth at him.

"Well, aren't you a selfish bastard..." She muttered; her head now drowning at the idea of climbing the tower, especially those people who climb the tower just so they can satisfy their never ending desires.

"Selfish? You should start looking at the mirror more often if you want to see the embodiment of selfishness." The artist narrowed his unique eyes on her.

"Me not opening up differs from your fucking painting!" The blacksmith barked back.

"Yeah my painting and you are different because the other one actually speaks to me better than the other." The painter spat then left the blacksmith, an empty room to herself and her sadness.

The horned girl slumped against her chair. Her tired back now being overwhelmed by the shivers of guilt and shame, whilst her inner voice begged her to go after her roommate and try to convince Hockney not to climb the tower but, she knew there was no point in doing so because she's already fucked up.

In the other room, Hockney was unknowingly copying Y/N's position but, instead of slumping against a chair, he is slumped against the door. His tears rose from the corner of his eyes, as he tried his best to not let them flow but failed to do so, as the small train of beads kept trailing down his pale cheeks.

He felt horrible for saying those words, he wanted to apologize but he's too afraid to be in the same room as you. Out of desperation, he found his arms wrapping his trembling body. As if an attempt to prevent himself from making things any worse.

As he desperately hugged his shaking body, his air was being hitched from his nostrils; to which his lungs began contracting because of the uneven breathing. Followed by his pale fingers digging into his blue coat as if to calm himself.

As his pale hands kept digging into the fabric, he suddenly heard something crumple within his coat. For a moment, his suffering was put into a pause. Him momentarily forgetting that he was in pain.

His pale fingers that once dug into his sleeve were now carefully removing the letter from his favourite blue coat. His unique eyes once again examined the letter he had discovered years ago.

"I haven't told her about the letter."

▬▬ 𝕱𝐢𝐧. 𝕮𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 6
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♡ㅤㅤ ≡ ㅤ➭ㅤ ㅤ⌂
ᴸⁱᵏᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉ