Psychological Jealousy

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Hello, I'm Wilkins, stories all the time.

Glad you are here.

Let's get into it.

Humans whilst the fans flocked past most of the upboosts

that the convention on their way to snag photos

with the main attraction.

This year's headliner, at what diva con,

Nikolak had not keep all the witness names straight,

was a panel discussion with Damon Leone,

David Howard Thornton, and Lauren Lever,

hot off the success of Terrifier 2.

Nikolak hadn't seen it.

He didn't find slasher films all day inspiring.

Mariah, Nikolak's girlfriend,

was there supporting and assisting him.

He kept catching her,

falling across the room at Lauren Lever.

Want me to find out if she's single?

Nikolak asked.

Mariah replied, if you've watched the movie, you get it.

You should have seen her performance, Nikol.

She becomes, oh, I don't want to give it away.

Nikolak rearranged a few prints on a table in front of him,

opting to put the bloody ones up front

for the tasteless slasher fans.

His best work, in his opinion,

wore his depictions of holes empty voids.

His delicate touch allowed him to create shapes,

with appearances in his brushstrokes,

and these shapes gave the holes a sinister vitality

in his opinion.

Realising Mariah's silence had stretched longer than usual,

Nikolak gave her a brief glance.

She was staring again.

He followed her gaze to the next pathover.

There, a man similar in age to Nikolak

was also rearranging his prints.

Original paintings had owned most of the wall behind him,

leaving room for a couple of t-shirts to hang.

One of the man's paintings, an octopus,

was a reptilian eye where its mouth should have been,

caught Nikolak's attention.

He had seen it on Instagram a couple of times.

He's good, isn't he?

Mariah asked.

Who him?

Nikolak replied as if he hadn't noticed her gaze.

Don't do that.

Of course him.

Nikolak got close enough to whisper.

His work is too dimensional.

It probably does great online and on prints,

but look how flat it is compared to,

compared to yours, Mariah finished for him.

Even Nikolak realized how narcissistic he sounded.

Mariah said, well, I like them,

and I hated when you do this whole pretentious artist thing.

I wonder if he'd do a swap for one of yours.

Your joking said Nikolak.

She wasn't, but she answered, got me.

Oh, it's hot in here, isn't it?

I know.

If I had wanted to sweat for a living,

I would have at least chosen a career that made money.

Mariah made a show of observing Nikolak's originals

hanging on the wall behind him.

She said, and have never brought these intricate works

into existence.

Sacrillage.

Nikolak actually smiled.

Mariah knew the best ways to tickle his ego,

which was about the only way he accepted love.

Nikolak, how do you say it?

A voice-sided ending Nikolak's rivalry.

Kisera Novsky, Nikolak replied to the artist

from the next booth of her who had abandoned his words

to come and introduce himself.

Oh my gosh, we were just looking at your work.

I love it, Mariah Chandin.

The artist thanked her and introduced himself

a spice ray.

He picked up one of Nikolak's bloody prints.

Man, your texture is unreal.

I mean, this blood looks like splattered ketchup.

Nikolak snatched a print away.

How dare this man come to his booth and demean his work?

Oh geez, I'm sorry, man, to buy said.

I meant it.

Oh, man, it just looks really thick.

Like you added so much depth.

Nikolak was really proud of his texture.

Mariah said, draping an arm around Nikolak.

To buy said, Nikolak, I like that.

You should use it.

A snappy name goes along with these days

when most people are going to learn

about you while scrolling through Instagram.

You know, and I mean this sincerely,

you might want to consider shortening your last name too.

I mean, I just think people probably

have a hard time spelling Zika.

Thal, Anoski.

Okay, thanks, Nikolak replied.

I'm well, hey, it was nice meeting you.

I hope we'll see each other at more of these things, yeah.

Maybe we'll get even deeper into that cesspool

up the next time.

It was great meeting you too, Mariah said.

To buy his grin to her, then turn solemnly toward Nikolak.

Seriously, man, I respect your work.

Sorry about the catch-up thing.

Nikolak nodded dismissing to buy his own booth.

He absolutely meant that catch-up comment, Nikolak whispered.

Mariah said, no, he did not.

He was so sweet, and I think he was really trying

to make a connection.

Besides, look at this.

She picked up a printing question.

Does this look anything like catch-up to you?

No, it looks like blood.

Very thick blood just like to buy a set.

Though, he's to buy his now.

Well, that's his name.

Nikolak shook his head.

Well, I hate to say it, but he was right.

My blood does look like catch-up.

Maybe that's why I don't paint it very often.

Stop it.

I hate it when you do this tortured artist thing, Mariah chided.

Well, just what kind of artist thing do you want me to do?

You want Bob Ross?

Maybe I'll try out some happy little trees next time,

Nikolak hissed.

He and Mariah did not speak much

for the remainder of the convention.

He sold a couple of prints, but not enough

to cover the cost of the booth.

Meanwhile, Bob Debye's wall of originals

and table of Prince Grusbarz.

He seemed embarrassed by his comparative success

and packed up quickly without saying farewell to Nikolak.

He did offer Mariah a shy wave, which he returned.

Nikolak noticed and fumed.

Debye's vein never left Nikolak's thoughts that night.

Lying on the couch, he opened Instagram and searched for him.

It frustrated him when the full name appeared

after the only type Debye saw.

Three other names still appeared before his own

when he tapped Nikolak's saw.

Opening Debye's page, he saw why his profile

populated so quickly.

The guy had half a million followers,

almost three times Nikolak's own following.

He scrolled through some of Debye's recent work,

then explored his earlier offerings.

He was more fascinated by Debye's fame than his talent.

Nikolak did not see much evidence for talent.

Is that Debye's?

Let me see.

Mariah was standing by the nearby counter, said.

Don't bother, it's mediocre, Nikolak replied.

Mariah sat in the arm of the couch behind his head.

Well, let me look over your shoulder at least.

Hum, okay, you're not totally wrong.

The longer I look, some of these do seem pretty flat.

She wrapped her arms around his forehead and squeezed,

adding, especially compared to yours.

Nikolak chuckled.

There she went again, ruining a perfectly good brooding.

But she was done.

I know you might not want to hear this,

but I think his name idea was actually good.

You know I love your name, but Sarah Noesky isn't.

It just isn't catchy, you know?

If this had been Mariah's idea originally,

Nikolak probably would have agreed with her.

But since it stand from Debye's array,

he had to argue against it.

Maybe I'm not super easy to search for,

but the people who really care about my work

will learn my name.

It's like a filter.

Oh, so you want to limit your fan base, Mariah replied.

Nikolak rolled his eyes.

She smacked his cheek lightly, then said,

I don't know, though.

A name like.

Nitooth.

Niko's are.

Niko's are sounds like someone I might want to.

Take to bed.

Nikolak sat down his phone and looked back at us skeptically.

Really?

She pivoted next to his head and her position

to self-to-sit on his ribs.

Her hands explored his chest and she said,

really?

But almost immediately his seductive smile with her.

Her hands went to her own stomach.

You okay?

Nikolak asked.

It's that like pinning in my stomach.

It said, Mariah.

Again?

Yeah.

She turned and her butt slipped between the back

of the couch and Nikolak's hips.

He sat up and put an arm around her.

I'm not comfortable with how long this has been going on.

He said, did you eat anything inflammatory today?

Any process sugars or?

No, we were together all day.

You know I didn't.

They that wasn't an accusation.

I just listened.

I think we should make you an appointment tomorrow.

You know we can't afford that.

I mean, next month we're probably going to have to choose

between having internet or our phones.

I don't care.

We'll figure it out.

Okay.

Maybe Niko's or I can sell some originals.

Mariah smiled.

Niko's are, yep, two minutes later, I still like it.

She Winston sucked in air, then slowly relaxed.

Okay, make the appointment.

We can just hide from the bills like we always do.

This time, Nikolai winced.

Apparently, Mariah loved the new name she gave him

but still didn't believe it would be enough

to set him on the course for success.

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Shh, they're here.

Niko called the hospital and described Mariah's

symptoms to a nurse who directed him to oncology.

They recommended Mariah be seen immediately.

They would fit her in between appointments.

Due to being fit in, Niko and Mariah

spent most of the day between the waiting room

and various back rooms for tests and questionnaires.

Almost every other patient had left by the time

that the oncologist called Niko and Mariah

back to go over her results.

I'm sorry about this.

The doctor apologized as she closed the door.

On a narrowly, I would have sent you home

and called you with the results, but,

well, I'll just be straight with you.

Niko grabbed Mariah's cold hand.

You have some accounts there, Mariah.

You've probably had it for a while.

How bad is it?

Niko asked, watching Mariah's stoic expression.

Unfortunately, we're talking sage

for a metastatic lymphome.

It has already metastasized to the liver.

So it's terminal, Mariah said.

The oncologist wouldn't meet her eyes

instead looking at her computer screen.

Oh, well, we won't use that term this early.

My recommendation is that we had make you

and start radiation treatment right away

to minimum that will hopefully relieve some symptoms.

And how much will all that cost?

Mariah asked.

The oncologist folded her hands and replied,

well, I don't really think that's what

you should worry about at this point.

Most insurance will.

We don't have insurance.

Niko interrupted.

What about Medicaid?

Niko's golfed.

Sure, but come on.

How much will just one night cost us?

Mariah asked.

The oncologist said you would have to talk

to a billing department.

I need you to understand, though,

that if you deny any treatment at this stage,

your case will certainly be terminal.

Mariah said, I understand.

Stood and nodded.

Niko remained seated.

He tried pulling Mariah back to her chair,

but she refused.

He said, come on, babe, we should at least talk

to the billing people and see.

Thank you for your time, but we're going home.

Mariah told the oncologist.

Then she yanked her hand away from Niko

and walked out of the room.

Give her time, the oncologist said.

She just needs to process this.

After they got home,

Mariah sat on the couch and stared at the wall.

Niko sat beside her.

They passed 10 minutes that way,

neither knowing what to say.

Mariah finally burped the silence.

I'm not going to spend my last days

trying to fix something that can be fixed.

What if these don't have to be your last days?

Niko asked.

Oh, please spare me.

Stage four stomach cancer that spread to my liver?

That's it, Niko.

She just didn't want to say to my face

that I'm a walking dead woman.

I don't know if that's true.

Then you're an idiot, Mariah screamed,

then cladced into sobs.

Niko wrapped his arm around her.

I'll do everything I can, Mariah.

I'll work harder than ever.

I'll sell Mar.

I'll bring in enough money to show you

we can fight this, okay?

I promise.

It's not about the money, she answered.

This is about how I want to spend the end of my life.

After a moment, she added.

With you, they cried together.

Mariah had but one wish she expressed to Niko.

One thing, she wanted before the end.

She wanted to experience Niko's rise.

She wanted to leave him behind as a success.

She expressed the sentiment during

their long cried out first night after the diagnosis

and a week later, seemed her wish might be granted in time.

Niko received a voicemail from Marjorie Schultz,

curator at the Fremont Gallery,

a young establishment finding its place

in the Chicago scene.

She offered Niko a tour and asked him to bring a long

six of his pieces if he might be interested in consignment.

Such an impromptu offer could not be more rare

and trigger Niko's suspicion.

He returned a mess, Schultz's call and accepted her offer,

but he made a point ask,

how did you become familiar with my art?

I'll admit, I'm mean and grateful,

but this is kind of surprising.

She replied, you can thank Tobias Faye.

He turned us on to you and scenes

to think very highly of your work.

You can thank Tobias Faye,

but words hung like a Lucient Lear.

Tobias Faye, the artist whose mediocre work leeched

attention from artists like Niko,

including from his own girlfriend.

She had followed Tobias after meeting him at the convention

and he could noted how she liked everything

Tobias posted, whether it was a picture

of his otorous mug selfie.

Tobias Faye had weaseled his way into an art gallery

and now what?

Was he trying to loan Niko and close

to make it easier to overshadow him?

The thought of calling back to council

the arrangement crossed Niko's mind,

but he thought better of it.

He felt the draw of a competition with Tobias.

While he couldn't know Tobias motives for certain,

he viewed the supposedly friendly gesture

as an invitation to duel.

You've been talking to Tobias Faye at all?

Niko asked Mariah testing another theory

which briefly manifested.

He wondered if it could be Mariah Tobias liked

and if the invitation was a means to bring her closer.

Tobias could not have known about her diagnosis.

She and Niko told no one else.

Who?

Oh, your arch-nemesis.

Yeah, we're pen pals.

Mariah seated on the couch said.

Despite her loss of vitality,

his sense of humor survived.

Niko said, I'm serious, I need to know.

No, Niko, I've not been talking to Tobias Faye at all.

There.

Good.

God, you're making up reasons to be jealous now.

You think I'm jealous of him?

Mariah rolled her eyes, then cough violently.

Niko filled her a glass of water

and hunted it over when the coughing fits subsided.

Well, he might have gotten me into the front-mont gallery,

he said.

Mariah asked, was that?

Chicago.

The curator sounded serious about a consignment agreement.

Niko, that's fantastic.

Yeah, but I just can't figure out why Tobias is trying

to get me in.

I've got a weird feeling about it.

Mariah touched his knee.

That's all in your head.

He's just a fellow R is trying to be a friend.

He's just a rare, extroverted type.

I know it's shocking.

Niko smiled down at her.

So you don't think there's any reason I should be suspicious

of him?

You're not hiding anything?

Mariah dropped her humorous veil.

Her jaw tightened.

She swallowed, then said, Niko undying.

If you can't trust me when I'm like this,

she gestured to her shrinking body, her bonini's,

her withering thighs.

I know, I know, Niko cut in.

Really, I do.

I just, I guess I needed assurance.

I'm happy for you.

Mariah said, changing her tone like switching gears in a car.

You can be sure about that and let it be enough.

But it wasn't enough.

Nothing could be.

Niko's number one goal as an artist was to get

into a Chicago gallery.

A gallery would be a refutable mark of professionalism.

Established far more credibility

than a large following on Instagram.

Mariah's excitement, the call from Marjorie Schultz,

they should have been enough,

but they had been tainted by Tobias Faye,

a man who's ruined replace Niko's number one goal.

Mariah's illness kept her from joining Niko

when he drove into the city

with a six-favorite painting's bubble wrapped in a backseat.

She felt nervous about Niko traveling alone,

though, and sent him with a smile,

22 pistol she had purchased back when an ex-redinter.

Niko left it tucked beneath his seat and locked the car.

The Fremont accomplished a mystique reminiscent

of 20th century Speakies'.

It's brick-faced ball more crumbled than smooth spots,

and yellow moss grew from dozens of mortar gaps.

But its freshly painted black door

was a portal to a world of brilliant white light.

None of the interior was met at right angles,

making Niko feel as if he himself was part of an art piece.

Behind it worn a twoswoll,

an amplified voice conjured a smattering of applause.

Niko wandered toward it.

The voice is familiarity sinking in with each step he took.

Thank you, thank you, said Tobias Faye,

bowing awkwardly to a small audience

of who appeared to be mostly college students.

Tobias moved toward a covered canvas

to his left to resume in his address.

By now, ladies and gentlemen,

and all in between to thank you

for attending my presentation today,

I have a special treat.

This is my newest work,

something I just finished last night.

Everyone leaned forward in polite anticipation.

Everyone but Niko.

He noted moduary shots

toward the front of the room,

standing so he was to face both the artist and the audience.

Tobias pinched the cover and slipped it off.

It floated away like a ghost.

Plow was an even a couple of cheers erupted.

Mass, shots beamed as she padded her hands together.

Tobias sought to praise with grace and poise,

but also great humour, pretending to sob

with joy towards the end.

It is charisma they like,

not his art, thought Niko.

In his opinion,

Tobias special treat was evidence enough to prove this point.

In his signature two-dimensional style,

Tobias had painted what appeared to be a demonet beast

in agony as it reached

toward three heavenly beams of light.

Niko rolled his eyes.

You would never catch him using something so derivative

as religious symbology in his work.

Oh, and we have another special treat Tobias announced,

raising his hand and Niko thought,

dodgy dare pointing at Niko,

who awkwardly waived with six canvases under his other arm.

Everyone, this is my friend Niko's art

and artist whose work is the only thing cooler than his name.

I will end you, Niko silently vowed.

Of course Tobias had to bring up the name.

He must have known a change

to something easily recognisable

had nearly doubled Niko's audience.

The mention of his name,

which on a Niko could fully interpret,

was meant as a statement of dominance.

Niko barrened.

The most lacklustrous smattering

of applause yet welcome Niko into everyone's attention.

He walked around the back

into the left so as to avoid Marjorie Schultz

until he was in a position to make a proper introduction.

Niko bowed as awkwardly to the crowd as Tobias had,

unsure if this was some custom embedded

in the Chicago art scene.

It felt wrong.

Tobias stared at him,

but Niko refused to look his way.

Marjorie Schultz ended the uncomfortable or deal

with a single clap and instructions for the audience.

Please, muse and the many pieces throughout the gallery,

all of which were, of course, for sale.

Niko, I'm so glad you're here to bust greeted him.

Niko replied,

yeah, me too,

and couldn't help but give in and look at him.

Gentlemen,

I'm so glad to have you both a mess Schultz cut in.

To Tobias,

she said Marvelous presentation, Mr. Fae.

I'll send Cindy into help clean up.

Mr. Tsar, please follow me.

She led Niko to a blank wall around two wide corners.

There, they discussed terms.

The numbers all sounded fine to Niko,

but a final condition to his acceptance

nearly crossed the deal for him.

The mess Schultz said,

we're trying something new here.

There will be an expectation for you and Tobias Fae

to help promote one another,

drawing your shared audiences.

There's a lot of crossover between you two.

Mr. Fae tells me,

I'll be honest with you, Mr. Tsar,

he has a much larger audience than yours,

and we likely would not have considered you

without his recommendation.

Niko asked,

so what,

you want me to share his paintings

to my Instagram story every once in a while?

You should also collaborate on content.

We're thinking a life-cueiner

with the both of you to start.

Any other ideas are welcome.

Mass Schultz noted to slight-jut Niko's jaw,

the tightness at the side of his nose.

She knew this look.

She knew this type of artist.

She continued,

we see it as a fair exchange,

despite Mr. Fae's larger following,

because we believe being connected

with you will encourage into up his game.

With his popular instincts in your depth,

I could see the two of you being quite good

for one another.

She removed one of the campuses

from beneath Niko's arm almost seductively

and placed it high on the wall.

She stepped back,

stood shoulder to shoulder

with the clay man beside her, Niko,

not sculpture,

I nodded once.

She said,

I know he could certainly do

to look at something like this more often.

Niko was sold.

Niko definitely avoided doing any collaborative content

with Tobias for his first two weeks at the gallery

by only being there during public events

of which there was only one.

To make up for the lack of content,

he shared two posts supporting Tobias

at least in spirit.

In reality,

Niko selected Tobias to flat his paintings

for the post and caption them with,

check out at Tobias Fae at the Fremont Gallery in Chicago.

Tobias returned the favor.

Niko felt a little hurt

by the second painting Tobias posted

of his because he had always treasured it

as one of his better works.

Was it really his second worst?

He believed Tobias must have thought so.

By projecting his own competitive jealousy onto his rival,

Niko left no room for any consideration

that Tobias' praises might be genuine.

Niko's first post only received five comments,

two of which were made by automated bots.

But then Tobias posted about Niko

and his following nearly doubled again in 24 hours.

Niko watched comments roll in,

checking in every 20 minutes

until well after 11 p.m. the night after

he made his second post about Tobias.

He kept hoping to see someone write something like,

he's fine but not as good as you

on ice of you to give love to an amateur artist.

The post gone are 213 comments

by the time Niko went to sleep,

but everyone praised the insanely creative

and likable Tobias Fae.

In stuck contrast,

when Niko cautiously entered the comment section

and a Tobias post about him,

he found a few polite well-wishers,

but mostly vague dicks at his work.

Nah.

Not as exciting as what you do.

This guy might need therapy.

Nice of you to spotlight a new artist.

Maraio waited for Niko to help her get to bed

while he took a shower that night.

A very long shower.

Apprompted, he told her he got soap in his eyes

when he walked into the living room.

When she looked up at him, she saw why.

His eyes were swollen, red, and tired.

She reached up and touched his face, saying,

I'm so sorry, Niko.

I'm so, so sorry.

I know how much bum so hurts you.

Maraio shall stick it upon herself

to arrange the date and time for a cue in a live stream

with Tobias Fae and Niko's aura at the fremon.

Tobias dominated the live stream,

seeming to forget Niko was a half the time.

At the times, when he did turn his foreign

for Niko to answer a question,

Niko found himself too frustrated

and better to say anything for found.

His single win had been convincing Tobias,

they should start the stream standing

in front of his work.

Tobias said he was actually going to suggest the same thing,

but Niko counted the victory anyway.

However, Niko failed to predict the live stream's

continuous growth over the 30 minute period.

19,000 screens across the planet were showing their faces

and art by the time they had moved over to Tobias' wall.

Niko seed through a false smile for the rest of the stream.

Before we let you go, Tobias said,

just when Niko thought the end was now,

I just wanted to remind you also follow me

because tomorrow I'll be going live again

for the unveiling of my greatest work yet.

I can't wait for you to see it.

Niko, you want to say anything before we sign off?

He turned the phone to Niko, who waves toffee.

I'm no, just follow me, too.

That sounded pathetic and needy,

so Niko impulsively added,

because I'm also planning to unveil something tomorrow.

I'll very soon.

Tobias said, you did he just accidentally let the truth slip?

Follow it, Niko's our art to find out.

All right, everybody, love you all.

As soon as the screen went black,

Niko said, way to put me in the spot.

Now I have to conjure up something to post tomorrow.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Was that really just a slip of the tongue?

Tobias asked.

Niko did not swallow his pride,

but he packed it into his gum so he could say yes,

and I saved it before you went and ended it.

Oh man, I'm really sorry.

Well, hey, how about this?

What if we collab on something?

We could do a small joint piece

and probably have it done by tomorrow night,

which is still technically tomorrow.

Niko said, no thanks.

I've got to go check him with Shultz.

Just don't forget to tag the fremon

when you post the recording.

He found a mess Shultz standing over her assistant Cindy Scholder

working through a scheduling conflict.

We finished, man.

I made sure we mentioned the fremon

a few times and I told Tobias to tag it.

She replied, oh, thank you.

Well, I'll be seeing you again

before your presentation next week.

Niko replied, probably not unless you need me here.

I'm working on a new piece to unveil at my presentation.

Plus, I'm kind of on the hook for something to post tomorrow.

Well, if your muse is calling you, you must answer.

I will see you next week, Mr. Zarr.

Now, she turned to Cindy.

What if we moved the grant meeting to Wednesday?

At home, Niko went into a friendy.

He found a four-inch queer canvas

which he thought he could reasonably fill

before the end of tomorrow.

However, inspiration completely evaded him.

Tobias said he was going to unveil his greatest work

so how could Niko possibly share something

and inspired on the same day?

For the sake of time, he decided to ditch the forks

for canvas and instead attended to finish the piece

he had attended to unveil at his presentation.

It depicted a train tunnel for a fisheye lens

warping the tunnel into bulging board.

Niko, Murai groaned before he made a single brushstroke.

He went to her and did what he could for her pain

but rushed so he could get back to work.

Murai now lived in constant agony.

Unable to keep almost anything down,

she had withered to just over 80 pounds.

If Niko tried to suggest taking her to the hospital,

she always insisted she would rather die at home

than prolong her suffering and artificial comfort.

The next day passed before Niko

had much of a chance to think about painting.

He had stayed up most of the night dealing with Murai

then slept most of the day.

He grooming accepted he would not make his device

and post deadline.

Tobias came through though.

He posted his so-called greatest work,

a mess of color through which a figure with extremely long

limbs could barely be seen to worry so online applause.

Niko scrolled through the end of stream of positivity,

then jacked his own page expecting to find people angry

that he had not posted anything as promised.

Reality was much harsher.

No one left a single comment or send a single message

asking Niko about the delay on his promised work.

They had all forgotten if they ever cared at all.

In 36 Ios, he was to present some of his art

in front of a live audience as he had seen to buy us

during the day he first entered the Fremont.

He stared at his partially filled canvas,

the train tunnel painting which he intended

to unveil at the end.

It looked like a void all right, a void of creativity,

a void of passion, the vacuous black hole of his career.

Murai went to bed early without a word.

She and Niko are barely spoken in days

unless she needed something.

That night, Niko stayed up staring at his canvas

too scared to make a single stroke.

Something had paralyzed him.

It felt adjacent to fear, but he could make

no closer identification.

His lower back started complaining

about his still around one in the morning.

Niko moved as easy in front of the couch

and sat in the knuckle for couch his arm.

He hoped making himself more comfortable

might loosen up his brain, but as anyone else might

have predicted, the exhausted artist fell asleep.

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Niko had made a habit of checking on Mariah

every night before he fell asleep.

So when he woke and realized he had neglected her,

and when her health was in such a fragile state,

he rushed into the bedroom.

He saw her laying on his side beneath the comforter,

which she barely formed a visible wave in any more.

Her back faced him.

She had fallen asleep, stirring out their open window.

He went to her, put a hand on her supposed shoulder.

It felt cold.

Whispering her name, Niko shook her gently.

She did not truck him off like she normally did.

He combed her hair with his fingers

and rocked her head towards himself

so he could feel for breath.

It was often the only way he could tell

if she was still alive when she slept deeply.

But he only needed to see her face to nurse she was dead.

Her eyes had never stopped stirring out the window.

Now, Niko gasped as he backed away from her stiffening body.

He had just let her walk into the room that night and die.

He couldn't remember.

Had he even said goodnight?

He was sure he had not told her he loved her.

He wasn't exactly sure when the phrase

had lost parted from his lips.

She had gone in alone, laid down and died alone,

just a few feet away from Niko

perched on his uncomfortable stool.

And he had just let her go.

He didn't know what to do.

If he called 911, they would take Mariah away.

He wasn't ready to part with her yet.

She had already been dead for Ayers

and lifelessness had begun to transform her

but he still could not let her go.

He laid behind her, wrapping her in his arms.

It felt like hugging a mannequin.

As he lay his tears wetting Mariah's hair,

he cursed by his face.

He had ruined, no, destroyed Niko's final weeks with Mariah.

The obligations, the pressure, the destructions,

everything that took him away from his suffering girlfriend

and drove a wedge between them.

It all connected back to Tobias.

Niko sends Mariah rolling her eyes.

His belief in her post-突us reaction

convicted him to lick his finger

and hold it under her nose again.

But he still felt nothing.

A recent memory of her rolling her eyes

at him slipped into his mind.

He had just asked, you think Angelic of him?

Mariah rolled her eyes.

In the memory, she should have then been taken over

by a violent fate of coughs, but instead she smiled.

She rose from the carriage and stood an inch from Niko,

placing her hands on his shoulders.

In the present, Niko shuttered against Mariah's wooden corpse.

He could feel her hands on him,

but could only see her if he closed his eyes

and returned to the memory.

Neglecting the real past, the memory became more like a dream.

In here, Mariah whisper, it's not Tobias fault.

It's yours.

Don't be angry.

I always knew you were a jealous man.

I liked it.

Sometimes.

But other times, jealousy controlled you.

I'm not sure if jealousy made you insecure

or the other way around.

It seemed like she was about to say more,

but her phone vibrated in the present,

buzzing on top of her night-scent.

Tobias looked at it instinctively.

An Instagram direct message appeared there,

reading, thanks for the heads up.

I kind of felt like something was off.

It came from it Tobias' face.

Niko opened the message.

The previous night, just after she had left him at the campus,

Mariah had messaged Tobias for the first time.

Her message read, you might not remember me,

but I'm Niko Tso's girlfriend.

I'm really worried about him.

He's developed a serious complex about you

and has brought out his competitive side in a dark way.

I don't think he've done anything wrong,

but he sees you as an enemy.

Please just be careful around him.

Niko dropped Mariah's phone on the floor

and grabbed her face.

A skin felt like refrigerated putty.

He would have given anything to hear one last breath.

In case there was some way she could hear him,

like the way she had seemed able to touch him,

he said, I can't believe you died afraid of me.

I can't believe I let it happen.

The truth is, the thought of you dying

was easier for me to handle

than the idea of losing you to someone else.

The truth kept coming.

It wasn't just Tobias.

It could have been anyone.

It could have been anywhere we went.

I was scared to cashier or a way to make you laugh

and you'd want to dump me in a parking lot.

Every time I heard your phone buzz,

I wanted to grab it to see who was texting you.

I did go through your phone all the time.

Nothing I saw ever justified it.

I always felt, well, nothing like I feel now.

Mariah, I was so jealous because I wanted us.

I wanted us to be together forever.

I put you through hell to keep you.

Nico shot up from the bed.

He'd been struck by inspiration.

A small crowd of mostly students assembled

at the Fremont the next day.

Tobias recognized many in the crowd

from his own presentation a few weeks prior.

A few of them grinned and waved at him.

Marjorie Schultz looked to him

from the other side of the audience

and expressed the question, where is he?

Tobias shrugged in return.

Mass Schultz checked her watch, then addressed a crowd.

I'm so sorry to everyone.

I'm going to call Mr. Saurid to find out.

No need, ma'am.

Nico's voice came from behind a wall.

He emerged carting a large cloaked object.

Apologies for being late.

This thing took a little more effort

to transport than expected.

He carried the massed object

to a tripod in front of the audience

and without lifting its veil, stationed it there.

All right, he said.

I'll get through this first part pretty quick

since we're behind schedule.

Again, Apologies.

He caught his breath and stood tall above everyone.

I have a confession to make, he continued.

I used to think I could portray deep whales

and nothing is because I understood

what nothing has felt like.

I thought my creations evoked feelings

of loss that rival genuine emotion,

giving you that Mal and Koli Hai

without the pain of losing someone.

Well, I was wrong.

My past works.

They fall so short that I looked at one

and laughed this morning.

Not one of them accurately expresses true loss.

That's a whole so dark and so deep.

I couldn't paint it because my mind protected me

from even imagining it.

Mass Schultz snuck up to Tobias

and whispered in his ear.

What is this?

He might want to shut this down

if he doesn't move on soon.

I got a weird message from his girlfriend

last night Tobias whispered back.

He couldn't comprehend how he had gotten on Nico's bedside

but he desperately hoped he wasn't about to embarrass him.

After all, his own credibility was also on the line.

But I have good news, Nico said.

Tobias side silently.

When he breathed back in, he detected a sire odor.

Looking across the audience,

he saw others starting to notice the smell too.

Nico kept talking.

I recently lost the person closest to me.

The only person close to me.

And now my eyes are wide open to that pain.

In Mass Schultz wrinkled her nose.

She thought an audience member

had done something embarrassing.

Tobias tubbed at her shirt and whispered in Mass Schultz.

You need to call this off now.

He's talking about his girlfriend.

Something is really wrong with him.

Nico looked directly at Tobias

and echoed Tobias exact closing words from weeks before.

And now, ladies, gentlemen and all in between

to thank you for attending my presentation today,

I have a special treat.

This is my newest work,

something I just finished last night.

Paul's please, MS Schultz called out,

but Nico's fingers had already pinched the top of the gray sheet.

He said, I call this peace band in jealousy.

The sheet flew away like a ghost,

but what it left behind was a monstrosity.

Nico saw him about next to his blood soaked canvas.

He had applied it so thick,

some sections still glistened with.

It certainly did not look anything like ketchup.

Strounds of hair stuck to the dry blood.

Nico had shoved six broken ribbons

three on each side through the canvas.

It formed a flimsy ribcage around

the siking hot bin to the canvas with another piece of bone.

It dripped, congealed blood onto the floor.

People started to scream, but MS Schultz's voice overcame them all.

Everyone out, not please.

But wait, it isn't finished.

Nico yelled.

The heart drooped until it fell off the canvas

and squelched on the floor.

The blood splattered on a college student in a front row.

Nico calmly collected the heart from the floor

and reattached it.

There's one more part,

something I couldn't do before unveiling the piece.

Nico said,

he sat down, crossed legate,

and a small puddle of blood from the heart.

He reached behind the canvas and retrieved my eyes

22 pistols fixed it with duct tape.

Bound in jealousy, disguised as a law,

Nico said to the crowd.

He pushed the barrel of the 22 under his chin

and tipped his head back.

Then he addressed a biased directly.

She was right about me, he said.

And it all came to this.

A fresh coat of blood sprayed over the canvas,

completing Nico Tsar's most infamous piece.

And that is the end.

Thank you for listening,

and I will see you in the next one.

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