The scholar glanced at his collection. He had spent his innumerable day's studying curses. Collecting them, curing them, becoming cursed himself along the way. He had paid a price uncountable. He couldn't help feeling like he himself had long become apart of the collection.

Some curses can be kept at bay easily enough. Some are so full of ruin they must be destroyed. It was up to him to determine. When a curse was trapped within a living thing, the solutions became harder to deal with. Messy. When the cruse had no vessel, was no more then a spirit. There was little to do but disperse it or in mercy find something for the curse to cling to. Allow it an existence, though humble.

Perhaps due to his own condition. He'd long grown too biased. Though whether this meant he was more merciful or less. He had a hard time discerning. Some curses didn't want to be what they were. Perhaps would find their end a mercy. After having grown corrupted and vile with time. A child's doll once loved, now ground its porcelain teeth. Hating every happy child, it sees. Wanting its revenge. For what or why it's long forgotten. Only its rage remains. He'd considered burning it, or perhaps holding a service to ease the dolls soul into leaving. Yet still there it sat in his collection. Well mannered and content since no children were allowed here.

It had it's uses. Bringing it out in front of a child, was an efficient way to determine a child's unhappiness. If the doll stayed calm, then the child's life was clearly a miserable one. The scholar had a problem with letting go of useful things.

He walked idly between the artifacts. Lighting candles, incense, leaving offerings varying from fruit to precious stones. When he reached the farthest wall, he stood before a painting. Basking in moonlight. It reached from floor to high ceiling. It's erratic strokes of colour, red the most vivid amongst them. Weaving its vibrancy through the many shades. Even cutting through where colours had muddied and combined. Imprints of bodies could also be made out faintly, if one looked long enough. Broad shoulder's, slender legs, intertwined hands.

Entanglement was the pieces name. Though the artist had originally named it Parting. Through the year's its original title had been forgotten. The original intention changed after the tragedy of which this painting was sole survivor. All that remained of its creator's tragic tale.

-

Arvi was sitting under the afternoon sunlight that dappled its way through the trees. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the breeze that rustled his hair. His breath was slow and easy. Dolien seeing his lover sitting so contently, was enjoying the scene from the window. He wasn't an artist like Arvi, he couldn't create sculptures or paint. He was horrible at poetry. So, he was peeling fruit with his pocket knife. Eager to watch the juice drip down Arvi's chin.

He affectionately thumbed their initials in the knife's handle. A gift from Arvi, he'd carved it himself. Dolien heard the sound of wings at the front window. Mail had been delivered. He put down the knife neatly placing the fruit. He'd check what came before disturbing Arvi's peace.

It was a letter for him. He'd very rarely received anything from back home. So, upon seeing his family's crest on the seal, his hands hesitated. It was better to get it read and disposed of. He didn't want whatever his family had sent to reach Arvi. He was so much more fragile than him. A harsh word from his parent's never bothered Dolien much. But it would hurt Arvi, he would weep and rage on his behalf.

The contents of the letter was startling. His father had died suddenly. His mother was sick with grief, a foot now in the grave herself. His sister had been forced to write him in desperation. Beginning him to come back, to marry a respectable person. If the woman that their father had arranged for him was no good. Finding a male suitor within their social circle would be fine. Just not that eccentric artist he had stuck himself to. Perhaps if he did, their mother would come around. A wedding on the horizon could convince her to keep living.

Dolien read and reread the letter. Feeling himself grow furious a moment, cold the next. Though he couldn't trust his parent's to not lie to try and get their way. His sister had always stayed as uninvolved as she was able. If she'd written it, it must be true. The fact she had even tried to bargain with him. Confirmed as much.

When he was young, long before he'd met Arvi. Dolien would have given anything to cancel his parent's arrangement. The girl he's been promised to was called Venia, they'd been friends before their parents plot. She'd said some cruel things the night he'd left home. He'd long ago forgiven her; she'd been heart broken. He could understand why she'd lashed out.

It seems though he was truly free of that promise now. His sister was just desperate to get him home. To bring their mother back from the ledge her grief had set her on. Still, what they asked for was too much. His heart belonged to Arvi, it had no home elsewhere. Still Dolien felt himself unable to dispose of the letter as he'd intended. He stuffed it in his pocket, delaying choosing whether he'd respond.

Returning to the kitchen Dolien glanced out to find Arvi no longer resting in his spot in the garden. His art must have beckoned him back to his studio. Dolien lamented he hadn't gotten to deliver the fruit to his lover's mouth under the sunlight as he'd imagined. Still, he picked up the fruit, folded his knife up and pocketed it.

Taking the path through the garden to the studio, he found Arvi hunched over a massive canvas. It took up nearly the entire floorspace. His eyes were shining and focused. As he splashed and poured paint. Following some pattern only he could see. In one moment, he'd seem euphoric, the next solemn. Dolien recalled how Arvi had explained to him once. That every piece contained a part of his soul. That he poured a bit of himself into everything he made.

He got lost in watching his dear heart work for awhile. Standing at the canvases edge. Arvi eventually rose his head, seeing his eternal muse standing there. Plate of sliced fruit in hand, looking at him as if he'd carved the moon and painted the stars. Arvi smiled, Dolien felt as if his lover was made of sunlight.

Covered in paint Arvi could only come over and open his mouth. Mischief in his smile as he let Dolien place a slice of fruit in his lips. He savored the taste, taking his time with eating. Only a few pieces were eaten before Arvi changed his target. Capturing Dolien's fingers in his mouth. Sucking and lapping at them instead of chewing on the fruit he'd been given.

Dolien sighed, savoring the glint in his lover's eyes. His fingers still thoroughly trapped within the other's mouth he was led onto the canvas. His bear feet becoming slick with the wet paint. Becoming envious of his own hand, he replaced fingers with his mouth. The trapped fruit was crushed between their tumbling tongues. It's juice dripping down their chins.

The kisses deepened; their clothes were hastily thrown away from the paint. Arvi dragged some buckets over and dipped his hands in. Enjoying the colourful marks, he then left on Dolien's body as he groped. Perhaps for the first time Dolien understood what it felt like to be an artist. Dipping his hands in another colour and eagerly painting his favorite part's of Arvi in the vibrant hues. As they rolled around their colours mixed, blending into skin and canvas. Sweat and juice joining together. This moment becoming apart of the painting forever.

Continuing to enjoy themselves even into the shower after. They fell asleep in the studio. Too lazy to get dressed to walk back to the house. Sleeping on the studio couch cramped close together.

Dolien woke slowly feeling that Arvi had gotten up before him. He hadn't gone far. Their clothes had been picked up and neatly placed on the edge of the couch. He was sitting beside the canvas, his back to him. Dolien got up stretching with a yawn. Admiring their handiwork across the canvas. He'd finally been more then a muse. He chuckled as he went over and sat down beside Arvi. Placing a kiss on his back.

Arvi's mood wasn't as bright though. He didn't respond to the kisses Doilen littered across his shoulders. The cause was revealed once Dolien leaned over, seeing the crumpled letter in his hands. Oh, remorse washed over him. He'd wanted to avoid Arvi getting hurt. In his hesitation he'd failed to discard his sister's desperate plea. How the letter must hurt him. Dolien rubbed Arvi's shoulders. Trying to comfort him. His eyes were red, how long had he been sitting here silently weeping.

No matter how he tried to comfort and soothe. Arvi's mood stayed melancholy. It had been days. He barley looked at Dolien. Stayed holed up in his studio. Dolien wasn't sure what he was thinking. His lover was distancing himself, breaking his own heart over that damned letter. Any food he left for him went uneaten. When he tried to go into the studio the door was locked. He tried every trick that had ever worked. To no avail.

Then once night as Dolien lay sleeping, Arvi came back into the house. Kissed him as if he was starving for it. Kept him up all night. Holding him so tight he might as well crawl into his skin. Dolien was relieved thinking his mood was finally on the upswing. He lavished him with affection, barley leaving room for air. Told him he loved him a thousand times.

The next day after sleeping well into the afternoon. Dolien was awoken by the sound of knocking. He dazedly got up, a bit disappointed Arvi's side of the bed was already cold. Shuffling to the door he was shocked to see his sister there.

Opening the door, she quickly hugged him. As he stood in confusion. He asked her why she was here. Then it was her turn to look confused. She pulled out a letter, it was written in Arvi's handwriting. A sinking feeling, Dolien rushed around the house calling Arvi's name. Getting no response, he rushed through the garden. Not bothering to put on shoes, his sister worriedly following after him.

The studio was locked, no light was on inside. A spare key was inside the house. Not willing to spare the moment it would take; Dolien kicked in the door. Screaming for his lover to explain. The now finished painting sat on its side, its hectic vivid brush strokes catching his attention. Arvi sat in front of it. No, leaning onto it. Hand outstretched across it, as he'd fallen asleep stroking it. His sister's ear-piercing shriek. His eye's travelling downward, to the pool of blood around his lover's feet. His pocket knife stained with its grim task.

One heart stopped. Two lovers' no longer able to meet in this life. Parting.

Dolien was like a man without a soul. His lover had been unable to bear his family's desperate begging. He wanted to let Dolien go. But he was unwilling to live without him. He'd made the choice on his own. His final piece had been stained with his blood. Though the rest of his work was greedily snatched up by galleries. Dolien wouldn't let Parting go. He'd been unwilling to -part- after all. Why would he give in now. His heart, had forgotten his stubbornness. Or perhaps he hadn't, simply tried to force his hand.

Dolien did go home. He had no intention of marrying. His sister was forced to watch now as both her mother and brother wasted away under their grief. Venia came by often, trying her best to catch Dolien's eye. Move his shattered heart. Their mother passed. He felt nothing. Venia confessed her love, he felt nothing. His sister begged for forgiveness; he couldn't bare it.

He spent all his time staring at Parting. Speaking to it. Weeping, wailing and begging it. Sitting with it from the moment the sun rose to long after it set. Venia felt truly scorned. That she couldn't compete, even with a dead man. Her love turned to rage. She killed Dolien, killed him where he sat always staring. His blood splattering over the painting.

Rejoined, meeting once more upon the canvas. Stained with their love. Stained with their goodbyes. Entangled together for eternity.

-

Such a painting. How could a curse not be born from such tragedy, such passion. Longing alone when strong enough, can bear countless curses and ghosts. This curse had been fed blood, yearning and heartache. It's creator's deepest wishes, their final moments. The scholar had tried to discern what the curses intention was. Its aura was heavy, it could make its viewer feel emotions to an almost unbearable level. Many souls had been driven mad in the feelings it had shown them.

It was easy to please though. The scholar just needed to visit it. Give it a spot where it could get natural light and chat with it from time to time. The curse seemed to like idle love gossip. Causing positive emotions to come forth instead of misery.

Before the scholar had obtained the painting and helped it stay content. People would whisper the names of the object of their affections to it. Unknowingly cursing their crushes, under the painting's unbearable emotional weight.

Entanglement seemed content with its current owner. He would share his student's trial and tribulations with it. Avoiding using names, just in case. Chat about his cute adopted son and his clumsy first love.

The scholar would sometimes even utter a name. A name that had no risk. Sharing stories of a person he'd long gotten used to missing. Entanglement had once been called Parting after all. It understood his story deeper then most. He wasn't that much different than an artifact after all. He was cursed with time, an apt companion for these lonely corrupted things.