The clanking of aluminum and then ceramic came to no surprise as Ymir cursed, but I didn't expect that to happen until noon and not seven AM.

"Goddammit!" Her voice was loud as I jumped from my bed, afraid that she might've ruined one of her paintings. I ran to the railing and peered over to find the most startling sight.

Ymir was fully dressed in a suit and dress shoes with her usual unkempt hair back in a decorative barrette.

"All over my fucking pant leg!" I could see the large puddle of pop and coffee intermixing near her shoe as she waddled to the table, addressing the situation. As I flew down the stairs, I was half expecting all her curses to be in French.

"Are you okay?" I had heard her but I was hoping she'd tell me what was going on. She never told me yesterday of any important affairs that would make her dress up. By the time she shot a look at me I was by her side. With great tension she pinched her nose, hissing between her teeth.

"I can't believe I fucking forgot." Ymir sharply chuckled in spite of herself. "I had a fucking exhibition today. I can't believe I fucking forgot."

"An art exhibition…?" I cringed at my stupidity but she didn't get short with me. She only nodded.

"Now my pant leg is soaked. I feel like a gutter rat." She glared at her paintings before throwing a hand up at them in annoyance. "I don't even know which piece of shit I'm going to show off."

I went down onto my knees, peering over her pant leg, seeing it slick and sticking to her socks.

"How're your socks?" I lifted her pant leg as I felt myself bite my lip. It was almost erotic to lift her pant leg as I was on my knees as her brooding eyes rested upon me.

"Fine. But, what're you doing?" She asked, curious but curt. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I lifted it to the edge of her sock, seeing her beautiful dark skin as I gingerly touched the sock. It was only very slightly damp.

"When is your exhibition?"

Ymir swore at the clock.

"Too soon for this bullshit." She was back to lamenting at her artwork. "Everything is so very old."

I purposely brushed her exposed skin as I brought the wet pant leg down again. It was so smooth as I sat on my legs.

"What about the one you did of Jean recently? It looks very lovely…"

"Pah. Old work." She fidgeted.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as my mouth went dry.

"What is it?" She easily picked up on my uneasiness.

"What about… what about the art… in the closet?" It was barely a choked whisper as she quickly shot up, face red, and fuming.

"I-I shouldn't have said anything," I covered my mouth, glancing away as she seethed quietly to herself, stomping to the kitchen and pacing, swearing angrily to herself. I was too scared to leave my position on the floor, afraid she'd yell at me for catching her at her weakest.

It made me feel so bitter to know what hex her previous love had done.

"The Jean art will be fine," she concluded loudly as if to yell at an invisible audience, "it will be fine."

She rushed past me, racing upstairs and I heard her fumble and undress before coming back down in jeans with her suit top.

"The fucking slacks will just have to be left." She went to her piles of canvas, rapidly sorting through them before grabbing one of Jean sitting in the windowsill with dust motes. "Good enough. They'll just fucking eat this up."

How she said it, the way she sarcastically smirked before walking right past me. She went to the door, opened it and stopped enough to take a large breath.

The apartment was silent as I finally peeked over at her, uncertain as to why she was waiting. Any word and I was ready to pack my stuff and live on the streets rather than have her yell at me for snooping on her privacy.

"I'm not mad at you." Ymir said, quiet. "I'm not mad at all."

She shifted from foot to foot, staring down the seemingly bottomless black stairwell as if the void would call back.

"Thanks for thinking they were worthy, though." She cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder at me and our eyes caught. Her golden eyes were soft if not hurt. "It's just not meant to be, right?"

I didn't know what she wanted me to say to that.

Was she referring to her art or Sasha?

It was such a shit question. A tricky one.

"You're… you'll do great. I know you will, Ymir." I forced a smile and I knew she knew I did by the way she ripped her gaze from me and nodded.

"Yeah, well, help yourself to whatever. I will be gone for most of the day. Au revoir." She lazily signaled with one hand as she disappeared with a loud shut of the door.

The moment I heard the other door I loudly groaned, purposely slamming my head against the wooden dining chair, but accidentally doing it too hard.

"Ow!" I winced, holding my forehead, rubbing it as I fell over on the ground, curling up. "Ow, ow, ow…"

I kept holding my head as I uncurled myself and thought about how stupid it was to even mention those secret paintings. In fact, maybe I deserved to bonk my head like this.

"Stupid." I sat up, feeling sorry for myself as I glimpsed at my hand to make sure there was no blood. I remained there, kicking myself over what I did. Maybe I could somehow apologize to her or at least show I was sorry.

Her pants were wet… maybe if I washed them and brought them to her? But, she didn't even tell me where the art exhibition was. I closed my eyes, feeling defeated.

What did she even mean… when she said it wasn't meant to be?

I felt a thought creep into my mind.

God.

No.

Do it, it said.

"No," I couldn't help but side glance where the hidden closet door was. My hands were almost itching at the thought of seeing what all was inside, because I knew there was more. Ymir only ever took that single one out.

Who knew if she ever had more girlfriends…

I wouldn't do it.

I knew better. I wasn't about to snoop in Ymir's personal stash.

.

.

.

"What's going on up here, Ymir? First, I hear you yelling and our customers were frightened, and now I hear a big crash and—"Sasha scolded but stopped as the door closed behind her.

In the corner of the art-living room there was a pile of paintings, covering my twitching body.

"Oh no! Jean's painting!" Sasha gasped, staring wide eyed at the ruined painting. It was the largest portrait Ymir ever done of the man sprawled out erotically in the bed, but, now, it had a hole right where his dick would've been—a hole completely occupied with my arm, making for a hilarious sight as Sasha died, falling to the floor, bubbling up laughter and gasps for air.

"Historia! Jean will kill you!" She barely sputtered, crawling over, howling still as she tried to help me out from under artistic death trap. "What were you even doing?!"

When the last painting was taken off, I shot up, breathing heavily, flushed, and ripping my arm out from Jean's ruined, painted crotch.

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" I squeaked as Sasha's eyes went right to the closet. Her face lit up.

"Oh! You sweet girl, were you trying to find the cleaning supplies? They're under the sink." Sasha pointed towards the kitchen. "Ymir doesn't even use this closet for anything."

Did Sasha not know?

"Hm. I wonder what's in there, though. I haven't even seen this thing since I lived here with her," Sasha went for the handle and I dove in front of her, stepping on Jean's face, and ruining that, too.

"Fuck—Um, I mean, y-you shouldn't look in there! Please!" I plastered myself all over the door. I already hurt Ymir's feelings by sneaking around and I didn't want to get caught for looking, or, worse, have Sasha find out Ymir kept those paintings of her.

"What? Why… what is she hiding?" Sasha narrowed her eyes. "She better not be growing pot in there. Historia, please, move, I have to look now. If she's growing pot, I swear—"

"It's! It's not that!" But Sasha was too powerful as she peeled me off the door and opened it, revealing it to be full of covered paintings.

"Huh. Who would've guessed," Sasha rolled her eyes, "more paintings."

She pulled one out and took its cover off before her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"OH MY GOD!" She yelped.

I was ready for Sasha to flip out and call Ymir about making her uncomfortable, but, instead, Sasha yanked me beside her, shoving my face into the portrait.

"Look at me back then! I was so hot! I got a little fatter now, but look! Oh man! My tits were so perky back then!" She gushed, taking all the paintings out to admire them. Even she walked all over Jean's destroyed canvas. "Man, I sure miss those days!"

Sasha brought them to the table, exhaling happily.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but being with Ymir was nice, too." She stroked the very painting Ymir had last night.

I just blankly stared.

Everything that could go wrong was going wrong.

It couldn't possibly get worse so I might as well…

"Why did you two break up?" I asked and Sasha seemed surprised as she chuckled, resting her face in the palm of her hand. I didn't know how she could smile like that when she possibly knew Ymir was hurting.

"She broke up with me." This time, I felt my own flinch and startled reaction.

"Oh, it isn't that surprising," Sasha folded her fingers together, placing her chin there as her eyes drifted into the distance, "she was so smart and cool and hot and thoughtful. I was a country bumpkin just learning how the city works. Where I ran around in daisy dukes and tanks, she was sophisticated and smelling wines."

I had to take a seat as I stared at the numerous drawings of Sasha. Very few had her clothed as many were her naked, posed all over the apartment.

"…but what happened?"

Certainly, Ymir must've felt something if she kept revisiting her time with Sasha.

"She never told me. I couldn't ask." She answered, gazing at the work with a small smile. "I think I never really wanted to know… but, it's in the past. I've moved on."

I didn't know what to say—why would Ymir be so upset if she ended it?

It was awkward for a while before Sasha stopped viewing the drawings.

"So, uh, where is that gay ball of sunshine anyway?" Sasha was shrugging off the conversation and I knew I should, too, or at least not worry about it till later. I had over-asked on my part.

"She went to her exhibit today, and, uh, she ruined her pants—Ah, um, Sasha, do you know where she is?" I jumped up, racing upstairs and almost tripping and ending my life in one go.

"CAREFUL!" Sasha yelled after me, bewildered. "Um, but, yeah! I do know where it is! Why?"

"Would you be able to give me a ride!?" I called out up in the loft, taking out Ymir's ruined pants, determined to at least make something right today. "I want to wash Ymir's pants and take them to her! I sort of, um, upset her!"

"What? What you do?" Sasha's eyebrows were knit together in confusion and worry.

I was right back downstairs, ready to throw her slacks into the washer on speed cycle.

"I—um-!" I came out of the small laundry nook and sheepishly scolded myself. "I, uh, suggested…she should put your art up for exhibit."

Sasha's eyes widened for a moment.

"…what did she say?" She fiddled with her fingers, staring at her own feet like a bashful school girl. Her actions made it seem like that was the ultimate form of love coming from Ymir.

"She… made it sound like they weren't good enough… like she'd be embarrassed to show them… but, I think she really wanted to, because she was blushing…" I treaded carefully in these waters as Sasha nodded, listening intently, and chuckling nervously.

"That sounds like her." Sasha made herself comfortable at the table. "But, yeah…"

"…Yeah?" I didn't know what she was talking about.

"Yeah… I'll bring you. God knows what she's wearing now, the dweeb." Sasha inhaled and for a moment it felt like she was trying to let emotions roll off of her.

I quickly averted my eyes because I didn't want to make it awkward by focusing on her.

"She only showed her female art once, y'know. It's a lot different than her regular male model art. It makes you feel different," Sasha explained as she pushed a piece at me.

I felt pressured to be able to see immediate differences. I was never the one in my family who was big on art or observing and analyzing its quality and disposition.

"Um, I… I don't follow."

But she didn't respond so all I could do was stare at it myself. I wasn't even surprised when I saw it was the same one Ymir was fond of.

Though, I was amazed by the details I could see now. The dimples of Sasha's smile peeking through as she drank coffee, the tired and lazy eyes and how they were watching where the window would be (not that the viewers would ever know). At the same time, I realized something I only had an inkling before.

This painting…

It was lonely. The atmosphere inside of it was sad. I couldn't place my fingers on it, but the shading, the subject, the line work, and how Sasha was alone in the early morning…

It didn't make sense to me at all. The colors were warm, Sasha was even smiling a little, but…

"I was her first and last female model. Her first time didn't work so well," Sasha spoke up, shifting uncomfortably, "but… now, you're here. So… try your best…"

"I—I will."

It was like Ymir's melancholy had infected every piece that involved Sasha. It seemed even Sasha now held them in a light of 'could be's and 'maybe's and 'I should have' with a self-doubting 'things might've been a lot different if'.

This more I observed the painting, the more it felt like a wall—a wall that divided Sasha and Ymir.