Percy ๐ฉธ Vampire Artist
.:สแด แดษช๊ฑ๊ฑแดแด สแดแด:.
Montrรฉal, QC, modern day
At this point, he didnโt remember what made him lose it. It could have been the way they walked in the massive gallery, ignoring the cubes of perfectly frozen, perfectly bright-red ice arranged inside the sterile space among a garden of birch branches stripped of all natural essence and dusted in frost. Like they didnโt care for it. Like none of it inspired awe. Like his metaphor for the moment they were frozen to him, forever meant fucking nothing, and neither did the millions of dollars he spent on getting it just right.
He could have spiraled because they looked at someone, or laughed at someone, or just turned the wrong way. Things got kind of crisscrossed when Percy lunged for the display case of his piรจce de rรฉsistance, broke off a frozen, bloodied hand and locked himself in the bathroom where he, now, sucked and sobbed.