Songfic, written to "Thief" by Our Lady Peace. I don't own the song, nor do I own Johnny or Devi, or anything else that the Almighty Jhonen Vasquez has created. I only own this story. It's mine! Mine, mine, mine!
Devi had never really thought about Johnny in any sort of sympathetic way. She had never really thought of him in any way that wasn't fear or hate. It was a typical human reaction. She feared him so she hated him for inducing such a wretched emotion. Now she felt kind of bad for him. How do you not feel bad for somebody who is dying in your arms because they have nobody else to go to?
A few hours prior to this, she had simply been painting, as was typical for her. It was not one of her better works, but she liked it anyway. She could see in it what she was trying to show, though nobody else would have. It was intended to show sorrow and desolation. It was intended to evoke every painful memory that a person may have while they are looking at it. She splashed on a few more strokes of red and began to study the picture to see what she should do next when there came a knock at the door.
"Devi! Open the door!" It was Tenna.
'Who else would it be?' Devi thought, getting up, paintbrush still in hand. "I'm coming," she grumbled.
Devi shuffled her feet across the floor and undid all of the locks, knowing full well that they wouldn't stop the annoyance that was Tenna. It's not that she hated Tenna or anything, she just didn't want to argue about weather or not she should go out tonight. "What," she half snarled as she opened the door.
Tenna stepped in, ignoring the snarl. "I haven't seen you in weeks! You keep yourself all cooped up in here. You should go on a date or something. You have to find a good guy sooner or later. You're running out of bad ones."
Not bothering to answer, Devi sat down on the couch and put her feet on the coffee table.
"Come on," chided Tenna. "You know, I could set you up with this really nice guy I-"
"No," Devi cut her off. "I don't want to go out on any dates with any guys."
Tenna fiddled with a toy off of Devi's coffee table for a moment. "What could it possibly hurt? I know that that one guy you asked out from the bookstore turned out to be a psycho killer, but the whole world isn't like that. You have to let somebody in, Devi."
"I'm sorry. My last date just tried to kill me, I shouldn't be afraid just because I see him everywhere I go. Maybe I'll go out and find somebody else who can ruin my life. Sounds like a good idea!" The sarcasm was practically dripping off of Devi's words as she glared at Tenna. Her voice held more venom than she had intended it to, but she did get the point across.
"Fine," Tenna said, tossing the toy back onto the table where it came from. "You just won't give up this whole 'killer' thing. You know, you think about him all the time. You shouldn't think about somebody like that in fear; it should be out of love. That's sad. I hope you get your closure." With that Tenna left the room, both slightly hurt and upset.
'Closure,' Devi thought, 'would be knowing that he's dead.' Noticing the paintbrush that she was still clutching, Devi stood up and moved back to the painting. The red paint that she had recently put on it had dripped down the black and blue man that she had painted there, giving it a very disturbing look. "Damn," she muttered. "Another picture ruined." She could always paint another one tomorrow.
Turning out the light, she left the room, simply wanting to get a good night's rest before she started painting again tomorrow. Maybe she'd have an inspiring dream.