Page 6 of Beauty & Corruption

“Lass, if you pace that damn floor one more time, I’m going to toss thumbtacks under the door to make this interesting,” Mordy said in a faintly muffled voice from behind his door as soon as I stood up.

“I wasn?—”

“Liar, liar.Éanis a fecking liar. Tell the truth,” he warned in a deep silky voice. Only Mordy was able to scold someone while sounding like he was encouraging me to do whatever I did again. Something metallic rattled against plastic in his room. A moment later, his fingertips poked through the crack under his door, and he flicked a silver thumbtack out beside my toe. “One.”

A small unintentional giggle popped out of my mouth, and I immediately pursed my lips. I didn’t want to laugh. I didn’t want to be happy right now. I wanted to wallow in my sour mood. I wasn’t ready to smile and laugh at the wonders of the world. Ignoring him and his thumbtack, I lifted my foot and stepped forward, dodging his sad attempt to distract me.

“Two,” he announced, and another tack scooted across the grain of the floor with the sharp end pointing upward. I grumbled under my breath and took another step. Another tack appeared. “Three.”

“Mordicus.”

“Éan, I can keep this up all night. I assure you that I’m more of a stubborn arse than you are on any given day.”

“It’s night, so it doesn’t fucking matter.” It was a weak comeback, but everything he did aggravated me.

“Day. Night. Eternal sunlight or into the endless night, I’ll always be the corruption, and you’ll be the beauty.” He exhaled slowly.

“What in the fuck does that even mean, Mordicus?” I gave up. This was useless. He was right. I was persistent, but his resolve was relentless.

“I’ll explain it if you sit down. Be a good little bird and sit down for me.” It wasn’t a question. It was an order.

“No.”

“Four.” Another tack soared toward my foot and pricked the side of it.

“Fuck! That one got me.”

“Direct hit! One more, and I sink your battleship.” He laughed.

“Leave me alone, Mordy. Please?” I sighed, doing my best to keep from laughing with him.

“Never! Now. Sit. Your. Arse. Down.” His tone was gruff and stern.

“Why does it matter to you what I’m doing, Mordy? Haven’t we already caused enough damage for one day?” I asked him, defeat seeping into my bones. I huffed, moving the tacks out of my way with a flick of my wrist, and my body lay flat on the floor. The cool surface was comforting and, for a moment, distracted me from my self-hating spiral.

“Aye, lass, but as you pointed out, it’s night. So, we have the entire night to chase the chaos,” his voice uttered, eerily near to me. I turned my head, and my eyes connected with his as he stared at me from under his door.

“Fuck, Mordy!” I spat out quickly, and my eyes widened in shock, but I didn’t move otherwise. I was exhausted. “How long have you been watching me from there like a creep? And why?”

He lightly chuckled. “Why? That’s a loaded question.”

“How so?” I didn’t want to play into his hands, but curiosity got the better of me. It usually did.

“Éan, do people ask a painter why they spend countless hours looking at their model while they make sure each brushstroke is made to perfection?”

“No, but you’re not painting me, Mordy. Unless. No. Are you?” I asked, folding my hands under my cheek, not bothering to move away from him. If I got up and went to the couch, he would follow me. Lying here took less energy.

“Heh. No, but that’s a great idea.” He paused as if letting the idea ruminate. He squinted his eyes, and his typical smirk spread across his face.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What do you mean by that, then?”

“Society doesn’t question artists when they stare at their muses. Do they?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Do they question the hours a musician dedicates to their songs as they practice or compose?”

“Again, no.” I exhaled heavily, wishing he would get to his point and leave me alone.

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