Chapter Twenty-two
Author's Pov
Picasso sat in the dimly lit secret room of his mansion, staring at the well-decorated pictures on the wall.
It was almost like his room of memories.
Outside, the storm raged on, echoing his inner turmoil.
He had sought solace in the peaceful isolation of this room, aiming to reconnect and heal the wounds of their past in some way.
Little did he know that the room itself had a way of bringing memories that Rico so desperately wished to wipe away back to the surface.
As he sat in silence, the crackling fire provided the only source of warmth and light. Picasso's hazel eyes traced the flickering flames, and his mind filled with images of their tumultuous journey.
He couldn't help but think about the hurtful moments Rico had endured both before and after they met and during their time together.
He knew he had caused Rico a lot of pain, as the pain was etched into the lines of his face anytime he was close to him. His strong jaw was clenched tight, a sign of the unresolved wounds still lurking within.
His mind was flooded with the memories he thought he had buried long ago—memories of how he had rejected and shamed a particular cute teenager, shaping him into the guarded man he had become.
Suddenly Rico's joyful voice echoed in his mind. His voice cut through the heavy silence he felt within himself.
"Remember that summer we spent apart, Picasso? How we both thought we could run away in a secret place, just the both of us, locking away from the world." His voice was laced with raw, joyful emotion as he spoke every word.
Picasso's eyes softened as he tried his best to imagine Rico's joyful expression and voice. Yes, I remember," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind outside.
"It was one of the best times of my life, Rico," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with regret.
"I thought I could forget you and forget the love we shared, but every second away from you only amplified the void in my heart." He whispered slowly, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He remembered the tears that welled up in Rico's eyes as he embarrassed him before breaking up with him in front of everyone.
"I still feel the same way for you. I tried to convince myself that I didn't need you and that I could be happy alone. But every beat of my heart reminded me that you were the missing piece." He said this, getting up on his feet and walking towards one of the pictures placed on the wall.
He picked it up, stopping it a little with his thumb. He lowered his head towards the picture, placing a kiss on it.
The room became heavy with the weight of the shared pain. This room of memories seemed to absorb his sorrow, its walls holding the remnants of past emotions and mocking him for the mistake that caused him some grief.
As the storm outside began to subside, the mindless couple found solace in each other's space, with one holding onto hope that together they could heal and the other devising a different plan to destroy whatever was left of the so-called relationship they had with each other.
Picasso intertwined his fingers before tracing the familiar paths of scars on their palms. He knew that by confronting their painful memories, they could begin to rebuild the broken fragments of their relationship, or so he hoped.
"Let's face our past head-on, Rico." Picasso whispered, his voice filled with determination.
"Let's explore these memories together, not as a source of pain but as a catalyst for growth and understanding. Only then can we truly heal and move forward." He thought as he tried to strengthen himself from whatever was coming ahead of him.
Picasso nodded, his heart filled with love and renewed hope. Yes, Rico, I can do this. I will bring us back together, I promise. I will uncover these memories, confront the hurt, and release it from our souls. We deserve to be free from the chains of our past. I don't care if you hate me in the process,but I will make you heal and love me again." He thought with great determination in his heart.
And with that, he looked around his room of memories, cleaning the stain his tears had left on his cheeks before laughing.
He felt an unexplainable joy in his heart, making the room echo with joyful laughter.
Right in this room, a new him was born, one that was ready to take the pain and embark on a journey of self-discovery and healing.
He needed to take care of himself first so as to help his beloved.
Together, they would confront the painful memories that haunted them hand in hand, supporting each other as they rebuilt their love on the foundation of shared understanding and forgiveness.
Little did he know that the room of Memories held not only their past memories but also the potential for pain for his beloved. To him, it was a creation of beautiful memories, but to his beloved, it was a reminder of his painful past, his foolish self, one he had spent years erasing from his existence.
Rico sat on the bed, staring into his cell, before making up his mind.
He refused to become that same old boy that could be toyed around with anyhow. He had worked and trained hard for this new him over the years, and he refused to let some flimsy feeling change him.
It was not a moment to be weak, but instead a moment to be strong and show his past oppressor that he had moved on and didn't care about him any longer.
A/N: Hey everyone, must you enjoy this chapter? I had to write three thousand and something words today, and I am tired and exhausted.
Edit: Some people are saying it's just 3000 words. I am still a student and have other things to do, so I will definitely be tired, so try to understand instead of mocking me.