This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs.
—Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment (Discworld, #31; Industrial Revolution, #3)

"My birthday is literally in three weeks Reyna," I sigh, staring at her forlorn face. "Can't you like, make it? Just miss lectures for a couple of days?"

Reyna sighs and the connection isn't as crappy as usual so the audio doesn't crack. "I know, I know. But I really can't, you know. Miss lectures. Plus, even if I can come, I don't have enough money for a ticket and—"

"I can pay for the ticket," I cut her off. "And don't say it's a charity. It's not. It's just me wanting my sister from another mister to be around me when I finally, officially turn into a... woman."

Reyna smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I know. But we both know you're going to have to celebrate your birthday without me being physically there."

I know this but still. I'm desperate. She's literally the only person I can count on to be there. The 'party' Father is throwing is not my scene; ball gowns and flutes of champagne with soft music. Basically just an event to properly introduce me into the fashion industry. Too many business associates. Too many models. Too many top designers.

I need to buy myself a hip flask. And fill it with beer. Because there's no way in hell that I can be sober when talking to a million people at once.

With a sigh, I shrug. "Okay, fine. Then you'll send me my gift, yeah?"

"Well duh," Reyna rolls her eyes fondly. "Although, heads up. You're going to absolutely hate it."

I try not to laugh. "Oh my fuck—"

Someone knocks on my door softly and I roll my eyes. "One moment," I tell Reyna before turning my glare to the door. "What is it now?!"

The door opens and my heart stops as a very familiar jerk walks in, holding a large painting to his chest. He looks tired but the thing is that he also looks gorgeous.

I blink. "What are you doing here?" I can't even be rude because I'm still in shock. The last time I saw Ian? Two days ago at Jameel's art studio. And since then, he never called or texted and I've learned to accept that maybe Ian and I would have been in a friendship or relationship only fated to crash and burn.

"Wait, who is there?" Reyna pipes up and I quickly look down at my laptop again. She looks curious and I glance up at Ian again, who is busy hovering by the door like an escape route.

"No one important," I finally answer and Ian winces. I look down at Reyna again. "Let's continue this call in about ten minutes, okay?"

Reyna raises an eyebrow. "Okay..."

I quickly kill the connection and drop the laptop at my side. "You haven't answered me."

Ian nods once and glances at the laptop for a fleeting second. "I'm sorry if this is a bad time–"

"When it comes to you, every time is a bad time," I snap and I realize that I'm getting angry again. The shock of seeing him in my room with my bra just inches away from his foot is finally wearing off. "Just tell me what you're here for. And... wait, how did you even get in?"

Ian finally smiles. "Um, the maid let me in. The one that snitched on us. That we were having sex. When we weren't," he says and I mentally put Juliet on my hit list. "And I'm here to give you this."

'This' refers to the painting he's holding to his chest like a prized possession. It's a large painting, covering the expanse of his neck and knees. I wonder how hard it was to bring over considering the fact that he doesn't have a car.

I clear my throat. "I already have enough art pieces here," I jerk my head to the side where Jameel's $500 painting is hanging. "So you didn't have to bring me anything."

Ian doesn't waver. "I suppose you don't have to keep it. All you have to do is look at it."

I cross my arms across my chest. "I don't want to."

"Scarlett, please," Ian says and I blink at the plea in his tone. He looks tired, almost like he hasn't been getting enough sleep and... oh hell, whatever. It's just to look at it, right?

I gesture for him to bring the painting over and he does. It's wrapped in pink wrapping paper and I lightly trace the patterns on the paper before tearing it open like a savage. "This better—"

—Be good. The words die on my tongue as I stare down at the painting in front of me. Ian backs away to give me some space as I hold the painting delicately.

It's me. It's a painting of me.

And a very detailed one too. I'm sitting on some kind of throne, wearing a black ball gown with a black crown hanging over my head like a halo. My hair is hanging around my head in large curls and I'm holding a black staff with the symbol of a red broken heart placed on top. The background of the painting is a collection of different runes, from The Shadowhunters and, just, wow. So many details. My face... actually looks like my face and—

"This is fucking amazing," I blurt out before I can really stop myself. I can't see Ian and I don't think I really want to right now. I'm feeling vulnerable and flattered and just... wow. "I... well, can I keep it?"

"Yeah," Ian says and suddenly, the painting is pulled away from my hands. "But we have to talk."

I watch him put the painting in the corner of my room. "Talk about what?" I finally ask, playing dumb.

He gives me a look over his shoulder as he positions the painting in a way that won't leave it falling. "Us."

I shrug to give the illusion of indifference. "There isn't an 'us' and in fact, there hasn't been an 'us' for five days now."

He finally walks over to me. "I'm sorry," he says. "I tried to paint as fast as I could. And it took a whole day for it to properly dry. I would have been here days ago— hell, I wouldn't have let you walk out that door."

"Then why did you?" I snap, throwing my hands up. I'm suddenly in the mood to stand so I do. "Why did you let me leave and why didn't you call or text?"

"I didn't stop you because I thought you were going to slap me," he admits and my jaw drops because honestly, what kind of heart do I own if I can fall for someone like Ian Ross but not nice guys like Liam Baxter? "And you were angry so I wanted you to cool off a bit," he adds on.

Even when he's trying— and failing— to apologize, he's still a low key jerk. But then again, it's Ian I'm talking about here. "And you didn't call, why?"

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Because you told me to lose your number and I wanted to give the illusion that I did."

I shake my head after a moment because, wow. Ian is an idiot. A legit one. "I get that you're trying to apologize but you're just giving me more reasons why I shouldn't even associate myself with you. Like really, you're giving me a migraine right now."

Ian sighs loudly and face palms. "I consistently fuck up when it comes to conversations like this," he drops his palm away from his face and then digs his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a— a hip flask?

"You have a hip flask?" I ask in slight awe as he unscrews the cap and drinks... well, whatever is inside. But definitely alcohol.

Ian pauses for a moment to look at me. "Don't all cool guys in their twenties?"

"I don't know," I mumble and he continues drinking. I frown. "And why exactly are you drinking right now?"

He finally stops drinking. I wince as he holds back a burp. Like who the hell chugs down a bottle of liquor like it's a shot? "I'm a coward. I need some liquid courage for all the things I'm about to say," he says in a whisper and I raise an eyebrow because, once again, we're the only ones in the room?

"Then talk," I cross my arms over my chest.

He nods and brushes past me to sit down on my bed. Yet another con against his pros. "Okay, so I've only ever had one girlfriend. To be more specific, I've only ever had... feelings for one girl."

Oh my God. He's telling me about Abril. "Dude, we don't have to talk about your past right now."

He doesn't even bat an eye at my words. "She was out of my league. I was the rude artistic guy that sat down at the back of the class and she was the pretty, sassy girl that every guy wanted to be with," he brushes by me and takes a seat on my bed. "Every guy. Including me."

I try not to let my jealousy get to me but I can't help it. I've seen how this girl looks. She looks like someone I'd want to have a tap of too.

"But obviously, my crush was just a crush. I never got to partner with her for any major project, I was in the art club and she was a member of the student council. Our paths didn't really align outside the classroom. But one day, while I was cleaning up the art studio with Jameel— because Jameel was even freakier about art when we were younger and he was a little shit that couldn't clean up after himself without some help— she walked in and asked me out."

"Why?" I blurt out before I can stop myself and I quickly bite my tongue in a bid to punish myself. I sounded extremely mean for a moment there; like I was merely asking what kind of girl could actually like Ian Ross... and wait, yeah, I'm punishing myself already with logic because duh, look at me.

Ian shrugs. "I didn't want to question it so I never did. She probably thought I was cute despite my braces and acne."

"There's nothing wrong with having braces or acne," I roll my eyes.

He scoffs. "Tell that to all the girls I ever tried asking out at that particular period of time."

"Maybe they just didn't like your jerky personality," I shrug. "Maybe they didn't find your personality particularly attractive."

Ian ignores my logic. "Anyhow, we started dating and that started the beginning of me striving to be the best kind of guy she could ask for. Started going to the gym. Started taking care of the acne. Got my braces removed two months early. I mean, she had guys hotter than me chasing after her, sometimes asking her out on a date right in front of me. I felt that I had to look like I deserved her, since no one believed that we could ever last."

He stops talking to take another long sip out of his flask. "I don't know; but maybe she liked having someone she could control. She was obviously the one that wore the pants in our relationship and I didn't really mind. But when I started to look like this," he gestures to his body. "We started fighting more. And I started talking back at her more. I think I even stopped trying to impress her and our fights got longer and more intense. Sometimes, it was about how rude I can be. Sometimes, it was about my jealousy. Sometimes, it was about her jealousy."

At this point, I've basically forgotten that Ian is meant to be apologizing to me. He's meant to be trying to reel me back in with a few sweet words but it's okay. I've always wondered how Abril really is and he's telling me now. And from the story I'm hearing, I can only say that she's a bitch. A bitch that plays on other people's insecurities in order to control them. Someone that feels that Ian Ross would have been better off with her if he suddenly didn't start to look like an Adonis— like a guy that could get any girl he wants.

It's so fucking shallow. In a way, I think I pity Ian. Because I think I know why Abril asked him out in the first place.

I keep this piece of information to myself. I also find it in myself to sit beside him. "So?"

"We graduated. She's still in college. I used my college fund and some money I'd saved to open The Canvas. We already weren't on the same page; I wanted to be a tattoo artist and she's studying medicine. Again, she felt like she needed someone much more 'sophisticated' like a lawyer. Or an architect. I don't know; anyone that isn't me."

There's silence for a while and I try to get the hip flask from him. He moves it out of reach and gives me an unimpressed look with droopy, glazed over eyes. "You're too young for alcohol."

"Said every party I've ever been to," I scoff but I relent. "Continue."

"We just had another big argument about my career choice. She felt that I could have been better off doing something 'worthwhile' with my life. I disagreed. She ignored me for a few days. And as always, I went ahead to try and patch things up. Went to her apartment. The door was unlocked. I walked in and I saw clothes everywhere. Her bra. A pair of jeans too large to be hers."

"The bitch cheated," I say for him because I can already tell that it's hard for him to talk about this particular topic.

He nods once. "She did," he whispers. "And it sucks, you know? Because I found that she was cheating on me with that particular guy since we were in high school. And that she loved him."

My mouth drops open but words don't come out.

"The night I met you, I was in a pissy mood because she sent me an invitation card to her wedding," he shrugs lightly and I think my lower jaw is possibly detached from my mouth right now. "She's getting married. She's getting a happy ever after and I don't think I'm going to get mine with this awesome girl that I really care about."

"What?" What a bitch.

"After Abril– that's her name in case you were wondering," I wasn't because I know... oh, and you don't know I know. Well, this is a conversation for another time, right? "I think a lot about things. And I'm not going to lie; part of the reason why I hesitated to come and seek you out is because I was scared."

I roll my eyes. "That I'd slap you?"

He chuckles, finally. The sound warms my heart. And suddenly, I feel like stabbing my heart. Because honestly, I'm whipped and it's not even funny anymore.

"I'm twenty two and you're seventeen. You're filthy rich and I'm not. You have a sense of adventure and I've exhausted my sense of adventure. I'm a tattoo artist and you're probably going to end up being a supermodel or a ballerina or both— you'll be under the spotlight," Ian sighs. "When you lay out the facts of how star crossed our lives really are, it's only logical to get scared."

I keep my mouth shut this time because it's true. I've thought about it- this. Hell, this is what I was thinking of when I finally bought Jameel's painting. Ian and I come from two totally different worlds. And he's right; it's logical to get scared. Because in a way, I think I know that we wouldn't last in the long run.

But I really do want us to last.

The Universe is cruel.

I swallow. "So then, if you've thought about it, why are you here?"

"Because you're worth it," Ian shrugs lightly. It's obvious the alcohol is making him bolder. His words are even starting to slur now. "You're worth the risk. I really like you, Scarlett. So much that I sometimes have to force myself to be a jerk to you so that I can deny it to myself."

I blink at that confession. "Oh."

"You make me want to paint again, never mind the dry cleaning bill or the fact that I never painted for Abril even when she asked me to," he points towards the painting of me standing at the corner. "You make me want to do daring things again. You make my heart beat faster like a boy that's seeing a pair of boobs for the first time. It shouldn't be that way because you make me so angry sometimes that I say stupid shit I don't mean, but then again, Scarlett, you make me so, so happy anytime you're around."

I smile. A real, genuine one this time. At this point, my heart is possibly just jelly. "You make me happy too."

He looks at me with alert eyes. "We don't have to jump into anything. Just give me a chance. One day. A date. I'll rent a car and I'll take you out and I'll make you feel like the queen that you are," he points to the painting. "Please? It's far fetched but I want that happy ever after ending with you. Not Abril. Not Brooke. You. I want to work for it. I'm willing to work for it."

I try not to smile but really, it's hard. I think I like it better when Ian is drunk. He's so sweet and open.

I hold his hand. "Okay."

He blinks and looks down at our hands. Then he intertwines our fingers before looking at me again. "Okay?"

I nod with a smile and I lean in to quickly kiss his nose. "Yeah. I'll give this thing between us a shot. And if it works out, I'll be willing to work for it too."

He smiles softly and brings the back of my palm to his lips, pressing a light kiss to it. "Okay."

To be heavily edited.
Hey guys! Finally, another update.
So it's December 31st. Shit.
I hope you guys have a spectacular New Years Eve.

So, what do you think of Abril and Ian's relationship?
And do you think Scarlett is a little bit too forgiving?

It's four in the morning lmao I need to change.
Night guys/ later x