Worthy of Painting Pt. 01

Emily unpacked her last bag, then took a long breath, getting a wide view of her closet. She'd been unpacking for an hour; she shouldn't have taken her mother's advice of bringing this many clothes--half of which she wouldn't wear anytime soon. First day in college had proven to be a bit boring; she'd spent the day completing her registration papers, then moving the packs to her room, then unpacking. Courses wouldn't start for another week or so, so for now, she had one thing to be excited about, her roommate. She was yet to arrive.

She relaxed on her chair, and started to wonder how she would be like. Emily didn't ask for much, just that the girl would be nice. If she was into painting that would be great. The thought excited her for a short while, before she reminded her self that she shouldn't give in to her expectations. Her luck in friends, had never been that promising. What if she's mean. What if she's mean and rude and doesn't respect boundaries--She got up and headed for the kitchen. She could spend the next hour fretting and worrying about the endless possibilities of how her roommate was going to be like, or she could spend them doing something productive, like making a plate of her delicious cake that she was known for. It would be a nice icebreaker when the girl would finally come here.

She put some music on and started baking. She baked and walked around the kitchen, enjoying its spacious feel--spacious for a dorm's kitchen at least. This was a nice dorm. It wasn't until now that she appreciated the hours and effort she'd put into her studying in the three years of highschool. She wondered how many of her schoolmates had managed to get into one of the top ten Art Universities of the country. Not many, not many at all, she thought as she put the dough in the oven.

Five minutes later, a key started shuffling in the door, and she walked towards it to open. She opened. The shock that the new visitor's face held, was only toppled by hers. She took in the details of the girl in front of her. The wide brown eyes. The black long hair. The olive perfect white skin. for fuck's sake.

"Oh my god." Prim half screamed in a girlish way while her palms covered her mouth, before she rushed toward Emily and wrapped her in a hug. "What are the chances." She giggled, obviously full of joy.

Emily was speechless. For a second, she thought about walking back into the kitchen, getting the cake out of the oven then throwing it off the balcony. Prim brock the hug, but kept her hands around Emily's shoulder and rubbed them actively up and down her arms. "I mean talk about fate. What the hell."

Emily could only give her faintest smile, one that had a mixture of pain and joy. The big smile and excitement that Prim face had slowly faded away, "You planning to say something."

She moved her tongue a little in her dry mouth then swallowed and said, "Hey. I didn't know you applied here."

"Well," Prim said her excitement getting back up as she grabbed her suitcase and dragged it into the room before closing the door. "It's a long story."

Prim talked, but Emily couldn't focus on one word she said. From her babbling, all Emily gathered was that Prim preferred this university because it was further away from her parents, so she decided to study Graphic Design although she had no interest in it. Prim never had any interest in anything really, so it made sense.

All Emily thought about while her best friend talked, was how was she going to repack all her stuff and go through the pain of filing a request to change dorms, cause staying here was no longer an option.

Prim seemed to sense that Emily was absent minded as her enthusiasm while telling the story slowly faded, before she stopped completely and said while taking a seat on one of the two beds, "So," she sighed. "How did you end up here."

"I've always wanted to study art," Emily said, then couldn't resist adding defensively, "You know that."

"Well," Prim smiled awkwardly. "I forgot."

Emily took a seat on the other bed and instinctively crossed her arms. She knew she was being rude. Prim face seemed more and more disappointed that Emily didn't show the same enthusiasm that she had. Good. Let her be disappointed.

They sat there in awkward silent for a minute, before Prim said, with obviously fake excitement, like she was trying to keep a good mode going, "So. You must be very excited right. That you got into the school you wanted." She bushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"Ehmm." Emily just nodded; her arms still crossed.

With that, Prim's face went bland, her wide eyes gave Emily a narrow and confused stare before she grabbed her phone and started scrolling.

Not being a total bitch, Emily did feel some guilt. Prim was so excited to meet her, and yet she was acting like they barely knew each other. Regardless, she needed to stay strong. They were once best friends, not anymore, and never again. Not after what she'd done.

Emily wasn't a people pleaser, that was how she saw herself at least. But when she had a friend, a true friend, she'd give them everything. If her true friend asked a favor, she'd be there to do it without giving it second thought. If they needed something and were too shy to ask, she'd take the initiative and insist on helping them, whatever it was. If they were upset or in a depressed mode, she'd bend over backwards to make them happy. She'd once thought that Prim was a true friend, her best friend, and the realization that she was anything but that, had crushed her.

As if to intently fuck with her, the oven bill rang, causing Prim to look up from her phone and look at Emily with a silly smile. "I know what that smell is." Prim said, in a high-pitched excited tone that made her look like a ten-year-old.

"Yeah?" Emily said, giving a reluctant smile herself. She couldn't help but feel good that Prim remembered. She'd eaten the same cake a hundred times. Emily thought about whether or not she deserved to taste it again. While Prim waited there, obviously putting effort into keeping a friendly face, Emily got up and walked to the kitchen; she already baked the damn thing, one last time couldn't hurt.

She plated two pieces and walked back to their room. She gave prim her plate, barley looking at her, then got back to her bed, and instantly dug in. Prim took a bite then sighed, more like moaned at the taste. "Geeee. It's still good. Thanks Emily."

"Welcome." She said bluntly.

"Can't believe it's been month since I've eaten this thing."

Emily chewed harder as she stared at the ground near Prim's sneakers, and couldn't help but mumble. "You would've tasted it more if you haven't turned into a bitch."

Prim looked confused, like she wasn't sure that she'd heard her right, "What?"

"Nothing." Emily looked up. "Glad you liked it." She gave a wide fake smile.

Prim just looked at her for a bit, her lips pursed, before she sat the spoon on the plate slowly and said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I got a feeling that...You're not as happy to see me as I am to see you."

"What gave you that idea?" Emily put down her own spoon, with greater force.

Prim nodded and raised her eyebrows, getting a confirmation of her feelings. She took another bite, and seemed to get a bit irritated herself while her sneaker tapped anxiously on the ground. To no surprise, she had nothing to say.

Emily took one mouthful after the other, finishing her cake as fast as she could, before she stood up and went to the kitchen, but when she came back, she froze once her eye's noticed something near Prim's suitcase. It was a wrapped thin cartoon, the size of a canvas. The wrapping hid whatever the carton of the canvas showed, but Emily's heart rocked at the unlikely possibility. "What's this?" She looked at Prim accusingly.

"What do you think."

"Just answer the fuckin question Prim," she scowled.

"The painting."

"Why--" Emily thought of possible scenarios why she'd still have the thing. "You dug it up from the garbage."

"I never threw it in the garbage," Prim said so casually, too casually to a point that made Emily blank.

Feeling her fist tighten and her chest rock, Emily did her best to stay in place. She didn't know if she should curse, cry, or lunge at Prim and bash her head to the ground. At a moment there she thought she was about to do all three, but she held her temper.

The day still haunted her nights. It was four months before prom. Prim had been acting weird for months. She seemed less interested in spending time together, and lied to her about her ability to go out more than once. She would bale on her and give her some excuse like having to study or having to go to a family visit, but then Emily would find pictures of her hanging out with her new friends. At school, she avoided her for most of the time, except for rare occasions that she had no one else to hang out with. Emily felt terrible about all of it, but she wasn't about to end her best relationship over some superficial difficulties. She thought about all the possibilities that Prim would be mad at her, and repeatedly found none. Regardless, she kept putting the effort to hang out and kept getting rejected.

Her last effort had been a creative one. Emily was a painter. Prim loved her paintings. So, for two weeks, Emily spent three hours every day, painting a picture of Prim with Oil colors. She put so much effort into every detail that it turned out to be the best painting she'd ever made; but that was probably cause the person she was painting was the most stunning she'd ever met.

She put the painting in a bag, and when school ended, she looked for Prim and found her by the lockers with two of her friends. She wanted to give it to her while they were alone, but they were seeing each other so rarely, Emily couldn't wait. She walked up to them and just gave it to her. If there was one way she could describe the situation, it was like when a boy asks a girl for prom in front of everybody and the girl gets embarrassed and politely say that she already has a date. Prim accepted the painting, but while she did, she had the most anxious grimace on her face. She looked like she was embarrassed, like she didn't want to take it and only did so to be polite. Emily knew, that she only acted like that cause her two bitch-friends were around, and they giggled like little girls while the whole scene unfolded. But that was no excuse. And her friend didn't stop there.

"Why did you tell me you threw it then?" Emily said through tensed lips.

"I told you no such thing." Prim said, more coldly, more casually.

"YOU TOLD EVERYONE." She screamed, making Prim recoil back startled almost dropping her cake.

"Gee fuck alright," she said, putting the plate on the bed. "It was a joke."

"A joke." She felt her nails dig into her palms, as she did everything in her power to stay put. She broke her heart, as a joke. "You're a terrible person."

"Grow up." Prim threw her hands in the air irritatingly and rolled her eyes. "You brought me a damn painting of myself in front of all my friends. You have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

She already knew Prim thought it was embarrassing, still, her hearing her say it somehow hurt more. "You fucking bitch."

"It was Highschool." Prim screwed her face, like Emily was being totally unreasonable.

"Well it still hurts, and you didn't even try to fix it"

"I did try to contact you." Prim mumbled.

Emily took a breath at the absurdity of what she'd just heard. Prim had called her once or twice after she'd found out that she heard of her little joke, and that was it. She didn't come to her house. She didn't try to reach her. She just left her a short message: "I'll leave you until you calm down and realize it's no big deal." That was when Emily realized that the relationship was over. It was a hard realization, to know that the person you loved didn't give a shit about you anymore.

"Well, I'm sorry," she said. "I truly am."

What bothered her now, that the hate she'd been building for months, was slowly being dimmed. This wasn't a new situation. Emily had lost count of how many times Prim had fucked up and hurt her. And every time she'd get out of the situation the same way, by saying sorry, smiling, and like the naïve girl she was, Emily would forget about it, even apologize sometimes for making a big deal out of nothing.

This shouldn't, wouldn't turn out to be one of these situations. This fuck-up wasn't going to pass like that, it wasn't going to pass at all actually. Prim disposed of her like she was a pile of garbage, and Emily would now return the favor.

"A little too late for an apology Prim," Emily said, making her way to her bed.

Seeming to get tired of the whole exchange, Prim scowled at her one last time before she kicked her shoes off and threw her back against the bed. "Fine, be like that."

Emily did the same, she rested her sore back against her fluffy bed, then turned to her side, giving her back to Prim. Her head couldn't wrap itself around the idea that she now had to move again. Her closet was full. For fuck's sake you're stupid arn'et you. Why the hell do you have to move. "When..." She said, hesitating reluctantly. "You know how to file a request for a new room?" She turned her head slightly to look at Prim. Prim still laid there, looking up from her phone to the ceiling, her face beyond irritated.

"You're kidding right?" she sighed, squinting her eyes. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Emily didn't answer. She turned her head back taking her eyes off Prim fuming face, feeling a weird punch hit against her stomach.

"You really want me to move," Prim said. "You don't want to be roommates."

She wanted to say no, but her throat suddenly felt tight and wet. The disappointment in Prim's tone while she asked the question made her stomach shrink. Six months ago, it would've been the best thing in the world to live together, especially in a dorm away from her parents. Now, she felt like she was stuck in a lion's den, and she wanted to be out. The effect Prim had on her seemed to stick until now. Even after what she'd done, Emily couldn't be the reason behind Prim's sadness, she just couldn't. But that Prim had been a fragment of her imagination, the only thing left of her was the painting. The true Prim was a bitch, that knew neither loyalty neither the value of true friends, and that Prim, needed to get the fuck out of here.

"No." Emily said in coldness that felt foreign to her mouth. "I don't want to be roommates."

After a short while of silence, during which she felt Prim's stare crush the back of her head, she heard Prim say, "Then move out."

Emily lunged to her ass. "I was here first," she half-shouted.

Prim only raised her eyebrows as if to say she didn't care.

"Prim." Emily tried to shout but it came as a whine.

"Whatever, I'm not the one acting like a child. I'm not moving." Prim kicked her mattress with her socked foot. "I already got my suitcase here." She gave the lamest excuse she could probably find.

"I'm already unpacked, my closet if full."

"You better get packing then," Prim said carelessly, before she added in fake concern, "You don't wanna be here more than you have to, with this horrible person do you." She looked at her with a loathing smile before she returned her eyes to her phone.

If this was to be the end of their relationship, Emily couldn't have it end with Prim, as always, getting her way on her expense. Prim wasn't going to win that one.

"You're the WORST shit ever." She put as much hate and emotion as she could in every word. She hoped that if she managed to get it through Prim's head how much she hated her, she'd guilt her into giving this fight up as a compensation for how much she'd hurt her.

"Then you better run away from me." Prim said, even more casually than before.

Seeing no signs of her plan working, she slammed her back on her bed and turned to her side. They both went silent. For a while, Emily just stared at her wall in defeat, dreading that her sore legs and back wouldn't get enough time to rest before she would start packing again. There was no way she could force Prim to move. One couldn't pressure a bitch with guilt, as it was obvious the bitch knew no such thing.

Emily's eyes began slightly dozing, before she decided that she could use a nap. She drifted off.

When she woke up, she hesitated at taking a look around, fearing that she would see Prim still lounging there on her bed. But when she turned her head, Prim wasn't there. Her shoes weren't there. Just when the possibility entered Emily's head, that Prim was gone, her eyes found her suitcase still near her bed. She chuckled despite herself; it was foolish of her to think that Prim would change. She'd always be the same entitled, spoiled, heartless bitch she'd always known her to be. She'd never had any problem with the first two, she even found them appealing at times, cute, for a girl with Prim's looks. She enjoyed spoiling her, she enjoyed her entitlement. But mix those adoring qualities with the cold heart Prim had proven to have, you got yourself a pretentious, gorgeous, asshole.

The door-knob turned and the key scratched inside it, before Prim pushed the door open and walked in. While she dragged her feet to her bed, her eyes barely acknowledged Emily. She looked tired, drops of sweat shined on her forehead, and some sweat stained near her armpits. She sighed as she sat on her bed and rested her back against the wall.

Emily couldn't resist asking, "Where were you?"

Prim's eyes looked up momentarily, giving her a bland look before she put the toe of her sneaker at the heal of the other one and removed it. "I filed the request." She took off her other sneaker, then dangled her black-socked feet over her bed. "They said I can move into my new room tomorrow," she said coldly, as she flexed and stretched her feet, as to drive the tension out of them.

Darting her eyes between Prim's cold face and her feet, her mind was filled with one thought. I won. I fucking won. Fuck yeah I won. A small part in her wanted to jump to her feet and dance in the middle of her room. But for some reason, the moment her eyes rested on Prim's bland face, all the joys of her victory simply diminished. The girl sat across from her looked terrible, disappointed, sad. Crocodile tears, Emily thought. Prim couldn't be sad that they wouldn't be roommates anymore, she didn't give a shit about her. She probably just didn't like that she had to move again. Dragging that small suitcase to another room must be tiring for the little princess.

But she didn't have to move did she. There was nothing forcing her to concede to Emily's demand, and yet she did. Maybe she wasn't as bad as Emily thought. Or maybe she was disappointed that she didn't have a friend already like she'd thought. she would've if she wasn't like that.

Emily had learned her lesson; she wasn't about to beat herself over someone who didn't value her. When her eyes couldn't bear to look at that beautiful face, usually excited and lively, be all plane and gloomy, she took a random glance to the side, only to notice the painting still near the suitcase.

If Emily truly meant nothing to her, why did she keep the gift? Why did she bring it with her here, to this new stage of her life? That didn't mean anything. It was a good painting, of course she kept it, it costed a lot to get a painting of oneself. She's rich you idiot. Emily sighed, then mustered the courage to look at Prim again, and say, "Want some cake."

Prim looked up from her phone, her face and eyes still too cold to show confusion, then looked back down.

Want some cake! After you basically told her you don't want her here and that she's the worst shit ever.

Not knowing what to do, and not finding anything to say, Emily got up, put her flats on then walked out the door. She wondered around campus, exploring where everything was. Courses weren't planned to start until a week, so the campus was basically half-deserted. Some groups of girls and boys were hanging out here and there. That excited her somewhat, the near possibility of new friends, but not as she'd thought it would. Maybe that was because the only friend she had ever wanted was back in her room, and she'd just told her to fuck off.