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23 October 2006 @ 10:48 pm
Lower East Side, Manhattan: Isaac's Studio  
Open to Simone.




Isaac realised, blearily, that it was daylight because his eyelids seemed to be painted cadmium red on the inside, and that meant there was more light than just streetlights and starlights and the occasional police helicopter. Daylight meant getting up out of bed--was he even in bed? His back seemed to suggest he wasn't, so at least he was a step closer to the end goal. Daylight also meant that Simone would probably be over. She hadn't been by, not since the overdose. So she would be, more than likely. To pick up paintings or to lecture him on how much electricity he was using or something stupid that meant, in Simone-world, that she cared, that she was invested in him. Art was a language of subtleties, and he knew Simone's well. He should, after all this time. He knew her language and she knew his, and that should be enough to make sure they could communicate, but shoulds rarely panned out into actualities. That, Isaac had to admit, was frustrating. Spanish, English, body language, sketches, something should make sense. Something.

Groaning, Isaac opened his eyes and pulled himself upright. He was on the floor, and the latest canvas was there on the easel, completed, unremembered. It made Isaac's head hurt to look at it, so he just dragged himself to the bathroom to splash water on himself and try to remember which day it was. She'd probably ask if he knew, anyway, and having an answer would be a good first step.
 
 
Current Mood: groggygroggy
 
 
 
Isaac Mendez: Blues//down and outviridian_hue on October 25th, 2006 03:18 am (UTC)
"Love always hurts. We suffer for it. All the good things in the world, we suffer terribly for them," he whispered back. Sometimes, it seemed like there was a chasm between them, between the worlds they lived in, how pristine she was, well-born and well-made and well-kept, and his own, buffered by the abattoir he saw every time he closed his eyes, that he spilled across the canvas. But when she kissed him, when he could hold her like this, that chasm was gone, forgotten. "You're worth suffering for," Isaac added after a moment.
enabling on October 25th, 2006 03:28 am (UTC)
Her heart ached at the double-edged compliment, thoughts flickering back to their fight the day before, her ultimatum over the drugs or their relationship. Was this his way of letting go? Telling her he'd chosen her?

For that moment, she didn't care about the answer. Simone turned in his embrace, one arm sliding around his waist while the other moved over his chest, up his neck and into his hair. Kissing him sealed her thoughts away, pushed them into the back of her mind. All that mattered was that he wanted her, even if it only meant for now.