Epoch wrote:
Sorry this took so long!
Venus had been painting all evening due to an argument she had gotten into with Oliver earlier, something about him needing to go to a therapist for his condition. He was currently incapable of feeling emotions due to an overdose about a year ago that caused some random freak brain trauma, but he insisted he would figure it out himself. Fine, deal with your own problems, Oliver, who gives a shit? Yeah, that sounded like what she said, which she felt extremely guilty for. Sophie was their other roommate, and she absolutely hated it when they fought, but Venus wasn't exactly a gentle person. So there she was, sitting in the extra room she'd converted into an art space, throwing water color paints angrily at a canvas, splattering the wall and tarps on the floor, which didn't matter much because she bought the place a long while back. This piece consisted of very dark but vibrant reds, purples, blues, and black, and was very much just an abstract piece created from anger, but she loved those types of things. It almost made her think of a bruise. They had a new roommate moving in with them, a guy named Connor, which brought up dozens of feelings, specifically pain and a long yearning, but she knew it couldn't be him. Still, though, she fussed over cleaning the apartment and the guy's bedroom to almost immaculate conditions, a habit she'd formed whenever somebody new came by.
Oliver was sat in the living room with photographs spread out on the coffee table, photographs he had taken over the course of a few years, trying to remember what it was like to feel the way he felt in them. He knew what the emotions were, but when it came to actually feeling them anymore, he just couldn't figure it out. A switch had been turned off or something, all because of some dumb mistake a while back. "Soph?" he called out, the argument with Venus still on his mind. The place was always quiet after they'd had a fight. He stood up and made his way to her door, which was slightly ajar, and he knocked softly before pushing it open a little more. "Sophie, do you think I need a therapist?" he asked her genuinely, leaning against her door frame and crossing his arms. "Because I'm starting to think I might." he told her, his voice pretty quiet but sounding like it was amplified in the silent apartment.