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 Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2010 6:40 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 8:16 pm
The tall powerful business man entered the vehicle, listening to bits and pieces of the driver's annoying babble. What, it was annoying, especially when you had an important meeting to get to. The black-haired business man made the occasional grunt, showing he was paying attention, to some extent. That extent would be classified as the attention span of a three year old. Words would go in one ear and out the other. Sighing the male turned his head toward the window, not finding much interest in the interior of the car.
Eyes the color of dark chocolate watched the scenery pass by, disinterest simmering in those could-be cold eyes. It didn't take long for the male sigh once again and look back at the driver. What was he saying? Something about a paint shop? His eyes watched the male gesture dramatically toward the window, which his eyes curiously followed. What his eyes stopped on made the hairs on his neck stand; he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Fingers clenched tightly into a fist as the picture itself burned,scared, and imprinted itself into his mind. Without even thinking about his words, his mouth opened to release the word, "Stop!"
His hands were quickly fumbling with his seat belt, trying to remove the constricting material. How owned this shop again? Vincent scolded himself for not multitasking. With more controlled movements the male removed his seat belt and opened the door to his expensive car. Stepping out of the car, his actions filled with nothing but grace, the man walked over to the quiant little shop and purposely stopped in front of the painting. His eyes glued to the fine details this artist had grabbed of his home.
Home. It wasn't much of a home nowadays. To be honest it was like walking into a nightmare. All the good times spent in the mansion had been washed away with negative memories, and disgusting one night stands. Sometimes he himself felt like such a disgusting, rotten man, that unconsciously he would scratch his arm. Like he was trying to remove the grime, and dirt embedded into his skin. Though that wasn't what was nagging at the male's mind. When did this artist come and paint his home? The only people who he knew that had this much talent were two people. His ex, and the little spitfire of an artist he had met yesterday. Narrowed eyes turned toward the entrance of the shop.
Maybe the teenager on the job could answer some questions. He fixed himself and strode into the small shop, looking like nothing but a powerful, threatening man.
"Do you work here," he asked, his full attention on the teenager, who currently held a rag for cleaning windowing in one hand.
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Spiral Insanity Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2010 12:12 am
The muscular young man didn’t even flinch when Vincent barged into the quaint, nice shop. He merely grinned and nodded amiably with pride in his eyes. It was obvious he loved his job. “Si signore. I work here for Angelo Uccello. The artist is away at the moment but I am sure I can assist you. If not, he should be back any minute now.” He piped good-naturedly, walking towards the front of the store and plucking the painting of Vincent’s home out of the window. “I saw that you were eying this piece, Signore. Perhaps you are a fan of dear Angelo. If so, you would be intrigued to know that this painting is an image of his American home before he came to Italy. Beautiful, si?”
Every tiny detail—ever brushstroke—was completely perfect. It was like a snapshot of their manor. It was beautiful and luxurious. However, a sad aura seemed to rest over the home. In a way, the entire painting had a gray feel. “Can you see the sadness in the painting, Signore? Uccello is a master at depicting his emotions through his work. Pain. Loneliness. You can see it all just in one solemn portrait. The price is—,”
Just as he had parted his lips to speak, Angelo slipped gracefully through the door. A gentle bell chimed, announcing his arrival. The handsome teen’s eyes lit up. “Ah. Buon Giorno, Angelo!” he cried happily in a rich, deep timber. “A customer is here to see you.” Angelo froze instantly when he saw Vincent. The color seemed to leave his face when he noticed the portrait the young man was showing his ex. However, he forced himself to remain calm.
“Hello, Mr. Randolph,” he purred smoothly, nodding to his employee and giving the over-zealous boy a kind smile. “Cesare, go ahead and take off early. You have worked hard to day. I noticed you reorganized and cleaned the outside of the shop. You worked hard and deserve some rest.”
“Th-thank you, signore,” the boy stammered, flushing faintly as he pecked the beautiful man’s cheek and left. It seemed the teen had a bit of a crush on his boss—though Angelo waved it off flippantly. He waited until the boy left before returning his attention to Vincent.
“May I help you?” he asked simply, picking up the painting of his old home. “I do apologize, sir, but this one is not on sale. It is part of my private collection. My employee must have unearthed it from the back and gotten it mixed up.” He put the painting aside and crossed his arms, leaning back against the front desk casually. “Might I interest you in something regal for your home? Perhaps a painting for the dining hall?” The boy didn’t miss a beat. He was calm and collected. His blazing blue eyes showed no fear. His contacts had been irritating him in the car, so he had removed them. Now, familiar blue orbs blinked up at Vincent indifferently.
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Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 6:14 pm
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Spiral Insanity Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Oct 01, 2010 6:57 pm
"Cailean."
Saying the name was like bringing down an album full of old pictures. Memories flew toward Vincent like a jet with an objective. Pictures, laughter, and smiles gently traveled through the male's mind, the memories were laying themselves lightly on the surface of his memory, like a warning. Just as fast as they came, they could disappear. It was like trying to keep pet who didn't want to be tamed. Whenever they wanted to leave, they would be able to do so. A ragged breath escaped the business's man lips. Why was destiny playing him like a defenseless puppet? Each step he seemed to take was just taking him closer to the obvious mouse trap. Only fate could set up such a wonderfully, hidden trap. Was there a lesson in this cruel ruse? Or was this karma? If it was, Vincent now knew why many people insulted it.
Karma truly was b***h.
Blinking himself out of the confines of his mind, the dark-haired male narrowed his eyes. It seemed like the other wasn't bothered by his presence, that didn't sit well with Vincent. Did he really spend so little time mourning over their relationship? A flash of his past showed him the male's slightly seductive movements. Had he always been this fickle, or was this trait that the male had just gained? The kiss the teenager placed on his former wife's cheek made a spark of anger simmer in his intense eyes. Emotions gently swirled inside the male, but being such pro at hiding them for many years keeping them hidden was second-nature. What good would it do him to just wear his heart on his sleeve? No good, his feelings would only get taken advantage of by those men he worked with, which in turn would make his company fail. Failing his company would be like doing suicide.
"Why Italy?"
Vincent leaned against the counter, crossing his long, lean legs at the ankles. His toned arms gently tucked themselves inside each other and rested on the man's chest. He was quite curious as to why the male had moved here, out of all places. Was it because of the rich art that this city possessed, or maybe there was someone else... Vincent's jaw clenched at the thought of his ex being with someone else, it just white anger through his very soul. If anyone tried to take his ex, he would...he...what...Shaking his head, the male pushed the thoughts away, now was not the time. Instead Vincent settled his focus on the small male before him.
"Well?"
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Posted: Fri Oct 01, 2010 9:32 pm
Angelo watched the man take that tense, resigned stance, sighing heavily as those arms crossed rigidly. At the question, he truly wanted to laugh outright. So that was what Vincent wanted to ask first. Had it been too much to hope for an apology after the years of abuse he had suffered? Probably. Running a hand through his silky gold hair, the beautiful artist moved casually to the front of the store and flipped the sign to ‘closed.’ They might as well speak privately.
“Renaldo came by for a visit one day,” he started casually, tone holding absolutely no signs of grief or pain. It was as though he was speaking about the weather. “It was after our last ‘quarrel’ and you were at work. I knew I wasn’t supposed to answer the door in such a state. I remembered how you had scolded and slapped me for answering the door for a package a few months before, but for the first time in my life I decided to do something for myself. I decided to let others know how vicious you can get when you’re angry. The second he saw me bruised from head to toe with a black eye and a split lip, he nearly had a heart attack. You know, it was funny that no one realized your little quirks, like the fact that if everything isn’t perfect you go into a rage or that when you’re truly angry you are willing to use your fists on the people you supposedly ‘love.’ He asked me if I wanted to call the police. I said no. He asked me if I wanted to leave you. I didn’t think I could live without you. At the time, I just wanted counseling to help us sort things out.” He paused as he spoke, taking the seat in the chair behind the counter and adjusting a pretty frame of himself and Renaldo laughing. The man’s arm was around his waist and he was kissing Angelo’s cheek adoringly.
“And then he brought up art. He asked me if I would like to be free—to be surrounded by everything I loved. He asked me if I wanted a fresh start. At the time, I had been painting against your knowledge in the basement. Yes, we have one. There’s a door on the floor of our bedroom closet that leads down into it. I wanted to paint. I wanted to be happy again. I was so unhappy back then, living with you. In the end, I took his offer. He helped me leave, he bought me a ticket to Italy, and he even let me stay with the family he had here. They treated me like their own and I can never fully repay them. The boy you just saw is Renaldo’s nephew. Sweet boy. So enthusiastic. As you can see, I’ve made quite a good life for myself. I would appreciate if you remained out of it.” The words were smooth and silky as he tilted his head to the side and looked Vincent in the eyes. He had cut off and dyed those platinum blonde locks Vincent adored, he had become independent, and he had even change his eye color with contacts.
"I would appreciate it, however, if you would contact my mother and tell her I am okay. I informed her I was leaving you over a payphone before boarding the plane. The poor woman probably tried to call you twenty times. She always did adore you as a son-in-law and she couldn't see why I would leave my 'soul-mate.'" he quipped, leaning back in his chair and studying his perfectly-manicured nails.
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Posted: Mon Oct 04, 2010 6:43 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 07, 2010 7:34 pm
Each sentence that fell from those precious lips made Vincent slouch. His shoulders were almost up to his ears, and his arms were as rigid as steel. It took years worth of will power not to strike the other. If this had been back in the day Vincent would have not hesitated to strike the other for talking that way. He was the man of the house, not him. Vincent settled his dark eyes toward the window; since, he could not look at his ex-husband.
Vincent's mind was swirling with hot, burning rage. It was just plain white rage that was coursing through his system. Never had Cailean had talked to him in that disrespectful tone. Vincent wanted to crinkle his nose in disgust. The raven-haired man felt his fingers dig into his biceps viciously, what was keeping him from striking the male now? No matter where Cailean went; he would always belong to him. He is mine was the mantra that kept repeating itself in the business man's head. It was probably the only thing that was helping him keep himself so composed.
It took a couple minutes of silence for Vincent to decide to retort. Well to him it was explain his side, but it was clear he just wanted to retaliate. "I can't help it. You deserved every one of those 'punishments'. Every time you were punished I could not help but think how much it hurt you. But I knew it would help. The punishments were to teach you a lesson, like showing a child not to disrespect their parents. Punish them enough times that they grow to learn not to do it." Vincent turned his stiff posture, and just in time. He saw Cailean arranging the picture on the counter, and Vincent felt his hand smack off the frame. "Disgusting," he seethed dangerously. His angry brown eyes watched the picture tumble to the ground, the glass sprinkling around the frame.
What a perfect picture of relationship Vincent thought bitterly while staring at the broken glass. Lifting his gaze from the broken frame he stared at smaller man. His mouth opened and uttered the words he had been wanting to shout from the moment he realized it was Cailean. "You belong to me, and no one else. I don't give a s**t if you do not want me in your life. You do not get that choice," he stated, venom dripping off those very words. Vincent needed to assert himself, gain the power he had once lost. Power, if he did not have power nor control Vincent would go insane. His father taught him that the man of the house always held these two things no matter what. It took years of beatings but Vincent finally got the idea lodged into his head. A man with no power nor control was nothing more than a puppet for him to control.
Vincent sucked in breath as his mind quickly flashed memories of his old childhood. The sound of slaps, kicks, and punches vibrated through his ears. His screams for help. The woman standing on the side, watching with fear. His mother. She never stood up for him, for she cared about herself much more than her own son. The business man did not realize the world he had been sucked into. His personal hell. The dark corners of his mind, where all his childhood was stored. That was the world he never wanted to enter again, yet without his permission it came and take over. A ragged breath escaped the male, he hated it when it overtook him suddenly. It would catch him off guard, and for a moment he would like an insane man. Vincent's hands curled into fist, his blunt nails leaving crescent marks on the fleshy part of his palm.
"A man isn't a man if he does not have power and control. If he does not have those two things he nothing more than a worthless human being wanting to controlled like a puppet." Those words were burned into Vincent' s mind. His father constantly said them, reminding his young son what was expected of him.
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Spiral Insanity Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Oct 08, 2010 9:30 am
Cailean listened to each word, not even flinching when the picture shattered at his feet. He didn’t speak. Instead, he ever so calmly dusted the glass from the photograph with gentle hand and placed it in one of the drawers.
“Please refrain from breaking my things, Vincent,” he quipped smoothly when the man had finished, standing and stepping over the shattered glass in search of a broom. Despite his calm exterior, inside he was boiling. How could Vincent say to his face that he DESERVED any of that torment? It outraged him.
“Tell me, Vincent,” he purred viciously after cleaning up the mess. A soft, smooth hand touched the man’s cheek almost tenderly.
“Are you really so blinded to believe I am a child in need of punishing? What you did to me is called domestic violence. Abuse. You have a serious problem if you believe all frustrations on your loved ones should be expressed with your fists. You need HELP. Your father blinded you by preaching the importance of ‘power’ and ‘control.’ And really, do you actually think you still hold any power over me?” He laughed outright at the absurdity of it, moving to lean back casually against the desk. He had never before dared to laugh in Vincent’s face. Such a horribly disrespectful action would have handed him with a fractured rib in the past.
Blue eyes glinted playfully, watching the man under long, thick lashes. “I am hardly under your control anymore, love. I am a multi-millionaire, a famous artist, and loved unconditionally throughout Europe. I can’t begin to imagine what you plan to do, if anything, to make me ‘belong’ to you. Even if you tried to take me home, I would be missed and searched for frantically. It would be like kidnapping a celebrity and I have several friends in high places that know where to look in case I ever disappear from Italy.” He ran a hand through his silky golden hair, arching a slender brow in amusement.
“You may be a wealthy businessman, love. You may be the CEO of a prominent company, but the name of ‘Angelo Uccello’ is far more well-known than the name ‘Vincent Randolph.’”
It was at that moment that the phone chimed loudly. Angelo picked it up without a second thought, easily ignoring Vincent’s presence. “Yes. Yes of course. I will be there by tomorrow morning.” He informed the person over the phone casually. “It is no trouble at all. The portrait has been finished and I am quite sure the Duke will appreciate it.”
He hung up the phone. “Well, if you will excuse me I have a painting to personally deliver.” He quipped, standing calmly. “Perhaps I will agree to a single date if you seek counseling.”
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Posted: Fri Oct 08, 2010 11:50 am
"You never left...." Vincent trailed off, his voice losing all pain and emotion. A dead filled sound was what filled the small office. Vincent closed his eyes and lifted his head toward the ceiling. "You should have left...I had always wondered why you stayed darling." Vincent moved toward the entrance of the door, a dead smirk on his lips. "I always gave you the chance to leave, you just never took them." Vincent let his finger trailed the wall in front of him with his fingers. "Did you honestly think you could leave when you wanted? I always gave you the chance my love, you just never saw them. When I went to work, you could have left, done whatever you wanted, all you had to do was cover you dirty tracks." The male turned so his back was facing Cailean, it was disgusting to see such an arrogant face on the others face. It was too much. Vincent dropped his shoulders and slide his hands causally into his pockets. His mind was looking for the next set of words. It was amazing how easily the other was getting under his skin, and just by words alone.
"I am no idiot my love. If you really wanted to leave you could have earlier. Hell any sane person would have, especially after the first time. Though that is not my point. You were with me during my whole life...and you knew what my father did. You called yourself my best friend during our childhood years, then my lover during our teenage years. Not once did you ever really try to get me out of demented household. I think a true friend would have tried every time to get me out of that abusive household, no matter how hopeless it seemed, no matter how many times I refused. Instead you let me take out my frustration with sex and fists. You mentioned it, but never kept at it." Vincent let the memories of his childhood and teenage years overwhelm him. The days only grew dimmer with each passing day. The only sunlight in Vincent's life was Cailean and even he turned his back on him.
Was there really no one in this lifetime that could handle him? Stay by him? Try to help him?
No, there was not. That was wishful thinking. All through his years he had been alone in one way or another. Not even his best friend's company could ever fill the void of no one bothering to help him. Maybe he should have reached out, but who listen to the rich kid with the perfect life? His town would probably think he was doing it for attention. Or maybe they thought he deserved it. His father would make it sound that way, his old man always did have a way at manipulating words and using them against you. It was the worst talent in the world, especially if the person was hateful b*****d who only cared for his success. Disgusting, and he said he would never be like him. Bullshit the male thought. I am an exact replica of the devil himself, Vincent thought bitterly.
It was a wonderful feeling to turn a blind eye. Vincent knew this, because he did it every time his fist connected with his lover. The blood, bruising, and slaps all came from him, and no one did s**t about it. It was like living his personal hell all over again, but would could he do? Stop? A scoff escaped the male's lips, it took more than just the thought to stop. Why was I cursed with this terrible problem, the business man thought. On the outside he was the perfect man. He had success, fame, riches and much more. Inside he was as broken as the shattered glass on the floor. <******** ironic," he whispered to himself.
Cailean last words made the male whirl around. A date if he got help? Vincent growled to himself. Those words instantly angered the male to the core. He sounded so arrogant! Like dating him was like such a reward. Then again this is probably the same exact way he acted. This was his dose of his own medicine. It tasted nasty, and it felt like it was a bit of an overdose. Vincent looked out toward the window once more, and let his eyes soften. He wanted to accept that proposal, but the other didn't exactly promise a date. "Tempting offer. I just really don't why I should accept. I mean there are other people just like you. I could find another you, and take my anger out on them instead, and I would make sure they would never escape my clutches. To make matters even worse, or better take your pick. It would be your fault." Vincent looked toward Cailean a cold look in his dark eyes. "It would be your fault for letting a man like me take another victim. Just like letting a rapist get away. I could take victim after victim making my list only grow longer. I don't have much to live for. No loved ones, just a company that isn't even that well-known. If I go to jail or get the death sentence whatever, the world would be better off. Though in the end, you will not only viewed as victim, but as coward. In one way or another you will always be a coward."
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Spiral Insanity Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2010 10:27 pm
Angelo’s blood ran cold. Something shattered in those icy blue eyes and suddenly the small boy looked very tired. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, leaning back against the wall as a fit of broken chuckles overtook him. “God, you’re a trip,” he whispered shakily between pained laughter. “Have you ever listened to yourself speak, Vincent. Really, you’re horribly deranged. You’re right. I should have left sooner, but I loved you. I loved you more than anything else in the entire world. I took every ounce of abuse—every violent word because for a long time I was sure I deserved it. Because I couldn’t DO anything for you when you, yourself were in so much pain during out childhood.”
Those weary, sad eyes studied Vincent’s face before he gave an exhausted sigh. It hurt to explain himself for something he truly shouldn’t need to. “But it wasn’t my fault. I learned that soon enough. The fact that you can convince yourself I deserved any pain you threw at me is sickening. I wanted to help you more all those years, but what could I do? Your father was a wealthy business tycoon whom my lower middle class family worked UNDER. The most I could do was beg you to live at my house instead of returning home, give you a sanctuary to escape from your family, and mend the wounds. All of which I did. What did you expect me to do, Vincent? Run away with you to New York? Kill him? Call the police—the sheriff of whom was under his direct control? I couldn’t save you. I was a kid. The most we could do was get out on our own the second we turned eighteen, which we did. We bought our ‘dream house’ at nineteen.”
He took his seat, folding his hands neatly and regaining a bit of his composure. He wanted to make it clear he was not afraid or intimidated by the other in the least. He wanted to keep his tone calm and flawlessly professional after revealing so much pain previously.“As for the current situation, I’m not quite sure what you’re aiming at. One minute you say I don’t have a choice as to whether or not you are a part of my life, the next you claim I am easily replaceable. If so, why have you not yet found a suitable replacement. Is it because they can’t keep everything as perfect as you wish it to be in your home or because no one is willing to put up with your abuse and neglect? You call me a coward, and I suppose you are correct. In the end, if you take another victim it WILL be my fault. However, I will be at fault NOT because I didn’t stay with you, but because I have not found the will to report your abuse to the police. There is nothing cowardly about refusing to be with someone who treats you worse than the dirt beneath his feet.”
“My name now is Angelo Uccello,” he stated calmly, crossing his slender thighs as that independence and strength seemed to refill his gaze. He had done so much with his life since leaving Vincent. He had made a name for himself as an artist, he had found a community of people who adored him, and he had even fallen in love a couple times. He was stronger than the weak, quivering boy Vincent knew. “I will always have feelings for you, Vincent, but when you’re father died eight years ago, you took his place and transformed into the abusive monster you promised yourself you would never become. I don’t give a damn if you blame me, threaten me, or hate who I have become. In life, we have the choice to pick our own paths. I remade myself and now I’m finally happy. I can’t force you to try to fix the damage he’s done. I gave you the most incentive I am willing to offer, considering the situation. A date for help. Take it, leave it, or propose something suiting your taste that I might actually agree to.”
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