She’s got most of them colored, but she’s on the fourth one now, and her hand is hesitant to try drawing him. He’s all sharp angles, and she’s worried that she might mess him up, might make a mistake, and then where would she be? Back were she started.
Picking up a pencil first, she draws lightly, thin pencil lines spreading across the page like spider webs on the clean whiteness of the sheet, and then she becomes bolder, etching in where shadows would be, cross hatching where she can, and she finally outlines in dark pencil a cheek, a nose, a jaw line. His eyes she leaves for last, not sure how to get them as they are in real life, so piercing and so...so…scary looking.
Setting aside the pencil, she picks up the light colored one, using it to start shading in his blond hair. Distracted for a moment, she pushes back her own blond hair and thinks how they are both the same colored hair, yet so different people. That’s when she starts attacking the portrait with a vengeance, coloring it so that it ends up to be the dark that he is, the black of his cloak framing his face, making it seem like he was alive, just as she planned it to.
With a content sigh, she finally finishes, setting the pencils away for the moment and moving the pad of paper away from her so that she can scrutinize it, make sure that everything is as it should be.
“Hmph,” she says with a small, pleased smile of satisfaction, before flipping the paper over and reaching for the blue pencil, ready to portray her favorite nobody, the one with blue eyes and sandy brown hair.
It’s not what they do, but how they do it. Sure, for the club they played up on the bad boy/sweet boy, incest using twins routine, but at times it did get fairly old. Still the girls loved it, and they kept up the act, making it seem believable.
But really, there was one thing that made it more believable at times then in others, and that is when, in fact, it really wasn’t just an act. No, when the room got dark, and the people, guests and members of the club left, the twins were the two to lock up the place. Usually they locked it up on time, but sometimes, after a game of playing ‘lick each others fingers devoid of frosting’, just sometimes they would stay late and perhaps finish the game. That’s when they would suckle on each others fingers, eyes the same shade locked onto each others, and moans and groans would echo around the vast hall that they were in, the tiny couch they were using seem like it wasn’t big enough to hold them.
That was when no one in the club commented on the two boys red eyes and frosting somewhere smeared all over the place. Still the club’s room got locked at night, and no one complained, even though this is the fifth night it’s happened, and everyone knows that the twins are doing each other after hours.
But that’s just one of those things no one mentions.