#gonna make an attempt to include some art with the old wip wednesday reposts

[not-krys]

[Repost] Kissings-Abby

Part of this set of WIP Wednesdays

Notes: fluff

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Abby’s gaze was fixated on the medium-sized painting before her, the brushstrokes and familiar colors tickling her memories. It looked so much like something Vincent would create, a still life with sunflowers, with a background she could easily identify as his room in Comte’s mansion.

Her heart ached, her memories now just that, never to see her new friends or lover again.

Steeling herself against the tears that threatened to fall, she moved onto the next painting in the gallery, her breath catching in her throat once more.

It was a portrait of a young woman with short blonde hair and dark brown eyes, just like hers. The picture was far more beautiful than she was, but she couldn’t deny the resemblance was uncanny. The familiar brushwork and colors were the same from the previous painting, the gentle hands of a master painter giving life to the subject.

Her heart stung, feeling the tears welling up again. It couldn’t have been Vincent who had painted these, there was no way.

And yet, all of his telltale marks and style were there in that portrait. As if he was blatantly asking for her to see him, calling out to her, screaming for her even.

But, he was in another time now, another world away. One that was out of her reach now.

No, she wasn’t going to cry. She had come here to enjoy a day at the local art gallery. Old memories weren’t going to bring her down today.

Yet, she couldn’t stop the single tear that slid down her cheek.

Suddenly, there was a gasp behind her. She sniffed, wiped her tear away and turned around, an apology and a reassurance on her tongue ready for when she spoke to the stranger behind her that had almost caught her crying.

Then, she met those familiar blue eyes framed by a halo of messy blond hair. The same ruddy cheeks that glowed in sunlight, the same laugh lines around his mouth, the same lanky frame she had been almost too familiar with, every fiber of her being was screaming at her that it was Vincent standing before her.

Every fiber, except her head. It… wasn’t possible, was it? Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Had her mind finally snapped in grief?

The growing relief in his eyes told her otherwise.

“…Abby.”

He only said one word, but it was enough for her dams to break loose, tears streaming freely as she ran towards him. He sprinted towards her as well, scooping her into his arms and squeezed her so tight, she didn’t know if he was breaking her apart with his bare hands, or holding the both of them together by sheer force of will. He dried her tears and left small kisses all over her heated face while she did the same, saying his name over and over again like a mantra. When both were out of breath, he held her against his heart and rubbed her back.